Page 3 of From the Ashes
“You can’t make me go.” His hand cups my cheek. I jerk back instantly against the sink, a sharp breath catching in my throat as liquid fear rushes through me. Flashbacks flood my vision: his fists, the bruises, the way I used to flinch before I even felt pain. I’m frozen. Paralyzed by the presence of the man I thought I’d finally escaped, and just as I’m about to lunge for the knife?—
A voice cuts through the room like a blade. “I believe she told you to get out.” It’s rough. Low. Unfamiliar. I blink.What? W—Who is that?Whoever he is, I’ve never been more grateful to find a stranger in my home. Ben turns toward the voice with a groan.
“Who the fuck are you? Get out, or I’ll call the police.” I don’t wait and rush past Ben, the space between us finally widening. I can breathe again. He doesn’t even try to shield me, doesn’t stand between me and the unknown man at the door. Instead, he steps aside, like I’m nothing, and that’s when I see him, the man who spoke.
He’s tall and massive, like a Viking wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket with heavy black boots. He’s young, but his serious face gives him the maturity of a man who has lived a hundred lives. His short, disheveled blond hair makes him look effortlessly put together; his jaw is framed by a hint of golden stubble, making his sharp features even more intense. A GreekGod, that’s what he’s looking like. My gaze locks with his. He’s staring at me with icy blue eyes, the intensity of them leaving me mesmerized at the sight.
“You okay, ma’am?” he asks, his voice flat, emotionless. He doesn’t even acknowledge Ben’s threat to call the cops. And for a moment, I don’t know who I should fear more, my ex-husband or this stranger standing calmly in my doorway. My instincts whisper that the man at the door is dangerous, that I should be afraid. But my gut knows better. No one has ever hurt me like Ben did. No one ever will.
I nod. “Um, he was about to leave,” I answer him, my voice weak and breathy, keeping my eyes on him, and for some reason, I know this man won’t leave my home without the certainty of my safety.
“Then you should probably go, ‘cause this lady doesn’t seem to want ya here any longer,” he orders Ben. I don’t know how he gets it from, but there’s a natural authority coming from him, and somehow Ben seems to feel it too.
“You know him, Lana?” Ben points his finger at the Viking in my doorway.
I shake my head. “Please, Ben, just go and follow the schedule next time,” I plead with him to leave before something escalates.
“Who are you?” Ben asks the stranger, carrying his chest high like a rooster.
“Just a concerned citizen,” he answers back bluntly, crossing his arms on his chest, tilting his head slowly to the side as if evaluating Ben in some way. If it were a movie, I’d even say that’s the look of the killer who’s about to end the protagonist at the beginning.
“It’s you who should get away from mywife!” Ben shouts, stepping toward the guy. But the man doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch, towering over Ben like a bear over a mouse.
“Here’s how things are gonna go. You’re going to leave this house and let this woman alone, or,” a strange shiny look flashes in his cobalt gaze, “I’m gonna take you with me ‘cause I can’t stand fuckers like you who don’t understand the word no,” he declares, serious and threatening, his authority filling the room with electricity. Ben doesn’t utter a word, probably because the threat worked, and glances at me, pointing his finger at my face, reminding me of old times.
“I’ll come back.” His voice is too low to be taken lightly. Repercussion, there will be repercussion. Ben isn’t a man who likes to be denied or overpowered. Peeking once again at the stranger, he twists his mouth into an evil grin, then leaves with a chuckle and heads to his convertible car. I watch him drive away from the window before exhaling deeply.
“You okay, ma’am?” the stranger asks, his gaze scanning my face. A shiver climbs my spine, and that’s when it hits me. There’s a stranger in my home. I swallow hard, forcing down the fear as I meet his eyes, clinging to the scraps of self-confidence I have left after facing Ben.
“Yes,” I murmur. “Thank you. I’m okay now.”
I lift a hand, gesturing toward the door in a silent plea.Please leave. Just go. You’re scaring me.But the words never make it past my lips. His eyes drop to my trembling fingers. For a moment, something shifts in his expression, and I feel like I’ve slapped him. Without a word, he takes a step back, gives me a curt nod, and turns abruptly. He walks out, heading straight for the black motorcycle parked outside. I slam the door shut and twist the lock, heart pounding in my chest as I watch him through the glass. He mounts the bike, starts the engine like he’s being chased, and disappears down the street. The keys in my hand dig into my palm. Back in the kitchen, I glance at the knife still lying on the counter.
What would’ve happened if that man hadn’t shown up? What would Ben have done? And who was that stranger?
The dishwasher beeps, yanking me out of my thoughts. I let out a breath. I’ll admit, he was striking, I can’t deny that.Was I rude to dismiss him like that? Didn’t he …save me?The wordsguardian angeldrift through my mind, but they feel miles away from the dark and distant man who stood in my doorway.
Will I ever see him again?
One thing’s for sure, I’m changing the locks.
2
CARTER
I scared her.
Damn it.
It never even occurred to me that this could happen, not like that. Talk about a first impression. I really messed up. And to think I’ve been watching her for months, keeping my distance, always staying away because I knew one wrong move would be enough to frighten her. But this? Finally getting the chance to speak to her, and making her hands shake... That was never what I wanted. It was a mistake. All of it.
I should have seen that the guy was bothering her. I should have stepped inbeforehe crossed that door. Then I could’ve left, and she would’ve never known I was there. She wouldn’t have looked at me like she was trying not to flinch. She wouldn’t be afraid of me. I just wanted, damn it, I just wanted to try. To try somethingreal. Something outside of my world. I wanted her to seeme, not the version folks warn each other about. Not the man they expect to hurt them. And now, it’s too late; it can’t be undone.
Even from three feet away, I could smell her scent mixed with soap and honey. Even without touching her, I could feel thesoftness of her skin. And her brown eyes, damn, those eyes, light and sparkly, filled with intelligence and yet so fucking terrified.
I mean, I guess they were terrified.
If I remember the last movie I saw, she had the same look as the actress before seeing a spider. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, hands flexing, and voice faltering.
