I hesitate again, searching those familiar dark eyes for any insight into his intentions.
I find nothing but cold, steadyintensity.
His grip tightens on my mouth when I don’t respond, his voice is darker now and he speaks slowly, enunciating every syllable, “I need you to promise me, you’re not going to scream. Can you do that?”
Decision made, I dip my chin again with the lie. I make no promises and reserve the right still to scream, dependent on whatever the fuck happens next. Buthedoesn’t need to know that.
True to his word, he releases my mouth and I don’t scream… yet.
“Good.” He nods appraisingly at me and I fight the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.
His fingers curl under the mask at his neck, pulling it off to reveal a face I feel like I know all too well, yet not at all.
He clenches his jaw, sharp enough to cut glass, while stalking like a predator would through my room. Six feet of coiled musclemoving with surprising grace within the tight space to close my door. I suppress the overwhelming urge to scream at the sound of the lock clicking into place. He holds me trapped in his piercing gaze as he crosses the room to also shut the window. The one leading out onto the fire escape.
Shit.
Closing my door and window seems to take all the oxygen out of the room. The tiny space feels ten times smaller with the mass ofhimin it.
I move back as far as I can without pressing my back against the wall, eyes darting around as I work to formulate a plan.
My bedside table holds the gun I’d gotten years ago for protection. Unfortunately for me, Koen stands directly between me and that table.
I watch him track my gaze to that very table, assessing it.
Double shit.
I tear my gaze away, taking the opportunity with his eyes off of me to bolt for the hall door. It’s only locked from the inside.
Koen catches me easily, swinging me around until he has me pinned back up against the wall. A whimper escapes me as a wave of pain rushes through me, and I watch his eyes darken.
He spins me again, and I feel his hands, rough against my skin, sliding up the hem of my shirt. I squeal and try to squirm away, but his hand finds my mouth again, suppressing any sound and holding me still.
“You’re bleeding.”
I rip his hand off my mouth, wanting to get as far away from him as I can. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You didn’t even clean it.”
“I cleaned it.”
“Not well.”
“Here—” He goes to pull my shirt up a little higher and I flinch away violently.
“Don’t touch me!” I spin, backing as far away from him as the wall allows.
Koen stays where he is, holding up his hands in surrender, even backing off a step, studying me—seeing my panic, my fear…seeing too much.
I fold my arms across my chest, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“What do you want?” I snap, my words come out stronger than I feel. “What are you doing here, Koen?”
His jaw tightens at the sound of his name on my lips.
“What do you want?” I ask again when he doesn’t answer. Hating how hoarse and small my voice sounds.
God, Remi really is the spitting image of her father,I notice, getting my first good look at him after all these years.
