Page 4 of Freaks Of Nature
My muscles freeze. My lips form a silentNo, and I can’t believe my eyes. He’s right fucking there, ready to intercept me again.
I shoot for a narrow passage between two buildings, but I don’t know where I am; nothing looks familiar anymore.
Panic blurs my vision. I catch sounds of metal somewhere behind me, the rattling of a chain link fence, him jumping onto a dumpster…
When I round the corner, he appears in front of me again, his chest heaving.
A sob hitches in my throat. I can’t escape him. He knows all the shortcuts. How else is he able to beat me every time? It’s not like he can be in two places at once.
He cocks his head to the side again in mocking. This time, he doesn’t just stare, though. He draws his knife and flicks the blade out.
Raising his arm, he points the tip at the alley behind me and nods in the direction like he’s telling me to run.
So I do.
I run like my life depends on it.
—
I can hear his boots pounding the ground. It’s all I hear as he chases me. I know he’s right at my heels. He’s faster. Any second he’ll catch me and rip me back.
I get to the end of the alley. I cut the corner in a sharp turn, but I feel his hand closing around my upper arm.
I pinch my eyes shut. I don’t want to see his mask. I’m so scared. I know that’s it. He’s got me in his clutches now.
A second hand grips my other arm, and I spin to crash into a chest. A scream ruptures from my throat as I squirm.
“Woah! Hey!” someone says.
They’re not the words I expect. Nor the tone. The male voice is warm and laced with surprise.
“Where’s the fire?”
I open my eyes and look up to take him in, the first human face since leaving the diner.
He’s gorgeous. Tousled, dirty blond hair crowns his head, several inches on top blending into a buzz cut. A few long strands fall over his eyes as he peers down at me. I’m not sure about their color in the dark. I think they’re green.
His chin is lined with light scruff and doesn’t disguise the dimples in his cheeks when he crooks a grin at me. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” I huff, still catching my breath. “There’s a guy with a knife. He’s right—” My voice cuts off as I look back over my shoulder.
He’s gone.
“Someone was chasing me,” I explain, returning my attention to the guy in front of me. I don’t want him to think I’m crazy.
He straightens and throws a glance past me down the alley, but I know he can’t see anyone there.
“Looks like he took off,” he says with a shrug.
My gaze lingers on him. I bathe in the sense of comfort he prompts in me. I hesitate to move.
And so does he, like he’s as reluctant as me to break the connection.
Warmth chases away the last cold tendril of fear. I become aware of my palms pressing against his hard chest. His T-shirt is soft and thin, and I can feel every twitch of his muscles under my touch.
“Um… sorry.” Embarrassed, I curl my fingers and withdraw my hands from his chiseled pecs. I don’t even know when they ended up there.
His eyes flit to my hands then back to my face, and I don’t miss his grin stretching a little wider when he catches on. “No worries,” he assures me with another easy shrug. I get the impression that’s his usual quirky attitude.
