But she’s not paying attention to the sidewalk. It’s broken up in places, and as she’s watching a bird fly overhead, her foot catches. Her stumble turns into a fall, her ankle wrenching violently.
“Mina.” My warning is lost behind my helmet, too far away for her to hear, and then she’s on the ground.
I gun the engine before I’ve made a conscious decision, weaving through traffic, my heart slamming against my ribs. Three blocks vanish in seconds. I pull up beside her and kill the engine, my boots hitting the pavement before the bike has fully stopped.
She’s sitting in the gutter, face twisted in pain, both hands wrapped around one ankle. A sob escapes her, and she bites her lip to hold back the rest.
She looks up when she realizes I’m there, and I see tears clinging to her lashes. Making her dark eyes shine. Such pretty hurt on her face.
Even from here, I can see the swelling. The angry red flush spreading across her skin. It’s bad. Soon the skin will be stretched tight and shiny. She won’t be walking on this for days. Maybe longer. My poor Mina.
She looks so small crumpled on the ground like this. So fragile. Her schoolbag has fallen off her shoulder, the contents spilling across the pavement. I want to gather her up in my arms and carry her somewhere safe so I can tend to every scratch and bruise. Nothing will ever hurt her again. Not while I’m breathing.
And then, another thought. Darker. Sweeter.
Like this, she’s completely helpless.
Like this, she can’t run away from me.
Heat floods through my veins, pooling low in my stomach. I don’t fight it. I let it wash over me, let myself feel the full weight of what I’m looking at. Mina. So pretty and stranded on the ground. Tears in her eyes. So desperately powerless.
My pulse is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. In places I shouldn’t be thinking about while she’s sitting in a gutter with tears on her face.
The fantasy unfurls in my mind, vivid and intoxicating. Scooping her up. Her arms around my neck because she has no other choice. Taking her somewhere she can’t leave. Keeping her there until she understands that she’s mine, that she’s always been mine, that fighting it is pointless.
I stare at her through my visor, her flushed cheeks, her trembling lip, the way she’s cradling the injured ankle like a wounded bird.
My whole body is hot and tight with wanting.
8
Mina
The pain is blinding.
I’m clutching my ankle with both hands, tears streaming down my face, trying to breathe through the waves of agony radiating up my leg. The broken sidewalk is hard and sharp beneath me. My bag is somewhere, contents scattered, but I can’t even think about that right now because my ankle is on fire, and I can’t stand up. I don’t know what to do.
I try to push myself up and gasp as fresh pain lances through me. No, that’s not happening. I collapse back down, my vision swimming, and the tears come faster.
This is humiliating. I’m sitting in a gutter like a child, crying in public, completely helpless. People are walking past on the other side of the street, but no one stops. No one even looks.
I hear the growl of an engine getting closer. I look up through my tears and see a black motorcycle. Sleek. Expensive. Familiar.
Cristiano’s Ducati.
Even before my vision clears, I know it’s him on the bike. I know the shape of him, the way he holds himself, the breadth of his shoulders in that black leather jacket.
He pulls to a stop beside me and kills the engine. The sudden silence is deafening.
He doesn’t get off the bike.
He just sits there, boots braced on the ground, hands gripping the handlebars. Staring at me through that dark visor.
I can’t see his face or make out his eyes. I can only see my own reflection in the black glass, small, crumpled, and pathetic. Dirt on my knees. A girl who can’t even walk home from school without falling apart.
Why isn’t he saying anything?
The seconds stretch. My ankle throbs in time with my heartbeat. He’s so still. So silent. The tension in his body makes my skin prickle with unease. He’s just looking at me. Staring and not moving, and I feel a shiver of fear.
