Page 16 of The Watcher's Bride

Time seems to slow down, and I do my best to tuck my head so it won’t be the thing that comes into contact with the floor.

I land with a soft thud, and it takes me a moment to register that I’m not dead. I’m not even injured.

My stalker has caught me.

I dazedly look up to see the owner of the strong arms that hold me close to his warm, hard chest. All I can see are his blue eyes; his face is still obscured by that ski mask, his hands by gloves. I could have died. If he wasn’t here, if he didn’t catch me…

He’s still holding me close to his chest, and I’m surprised to find that the closeness doesn’t disgust me. I tell myself it’s because of the adrenaline surging through my veins.

“Thank you for catching me,” I say, uncertain of what to say. What’s the appropriate response to give the masked man who’s been terrorizing you when he saves your life? “Umm… youcan put me down now,” I add before realizing that the last time he spoke to me it was in Russian.

Reluctantly, he sets me on my feet. As always, he stands silently surveying me. I reach up to touch the base of his mask, wanting to pull it off and reveal who he is. His hand reaches out, quick as a flash, to circle my wrist, stopping me. There’s a guttural growl that rumbles in his throat as he looks at me. He’s now touched me twice. It might be with gloved hands, but I still feel on fire from the contact. More confusingly, I don’t hate it.

The touch of any other man, even one simply trying to hold my hand, has made my skin crawl with repulsion.

I don’t move. I have no idea how to react, or what his next move will be. I sense that he doesn’t want to hurt me—why would he have caught me if he wished me harm?—but like a wild animal, I fear sudden movements might cause him to lash out. My heart is racing, and my mouth is dry.

The chiming of the clock announcing it is closing time pulls his attention and he lets go of me. With one final glance, he walks away, his silent movements graceful and predatory like a lion stalking its prey.

I stand still in shock for a moment before letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Then I’m rushing after him.

“Wait, who are you? What do you want?” I say, but he’s already disappeared into the night.

I stand there breathing heavily, looking at the door as I wonder what the hell happened.

Max comes racing through the door only a few moments later, his eyes wide and panicked. “Nora!” he shouts. He sees meand instantly his body relaxes, “Nora, thank god you’re okay. I saw a man running out of the building, he was wearing a mask and… god, I was worried something had happened to you,” he says as he rushes over, surveying me for injury.

“You saw him?” I say, relieved that it isn’t all in my head after all.

“Yes. What did he want? Did he hurt you? I should have run after him, but I was worried you might be hurt and need my help,” he says, his eyes darting back to the door as if contemplating running after him.

“No, no, I’m fine. Really,” I say when he looks skeptical.

“What the hell was some guy in a ski mask doing running here?” he asks, his blue eyes studying me.

“Nothing. I mean, there was a customer here who left a moment ago, but he wasn’t wearing a mask. Perhaps he was running because he was late for something?” I lie, aware that it sounds like a feeble explanation and unsure why I’m hiding the truth from Max.

“And the ski mask?” Max says, the disbelief clear on his face.

“It’s cold out. He must have put it on as he left.” When Max still looks unsure, I insist, “I’m fine. Honestly.”

Still unconvinced, Max says, “Sure it wasn’t your overprotective colleague, too chicken shit to run into me without you to protect him?”

His jealous tone should piss me off, yet, somehow, it only adds to the intrigue. Plus, it’s nice to know someone is lookingout for me. I might be having all sorts of fucked up reactions to my stalker, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t scare the shit out of me. Max could have anyone he wants, yet he seems determined he wants me. Not that I’m going to let him know that I like it.

“Jealous much?” I say sarcastically.

“That little weasel thinks he’s got some sort of claim over you when you’re my girl,” he growls. I don’t want it to be sexy, but, damn, it is.

“What gave you that impression? I told you I don’t date,” I reply, trying to look annoyed at his caveman response when inside I’m squealing like a schoolgirl who found out her crush likes her back.

“I know, but you’ll change your mind,” he replies confidently. “You were mine the moment I laid eyes on you, you just haven’t realized it yet.”

I have no witty or sarcastic comeback; he’s floored me with his conviction. I get the impression that Max isn’t the kind of guy that has to deal with rejection, he probably always gets what he wants.

There’s something undeniably attractive about his confidence, and he’s right, I want him, despite what I’ve said. My body reacts without me thinking and I step closer to him. We’re so close, all it would take is for me to move a fraction closer for our lips to touch and all would be lost. But then I catch myself. What is wrong with me? I’ve gone from hating the thought of physical contact, to wanting two men in the space of a few weeks.

One who lives in the shadows, and the other standing right in front of me. And the weirdest thing, is I feel like being attracted to Max is somehow betraying my stalker…

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