Page 3 of Depraved

The arms that are covered in tattoos depicting my face from every angle. My real name is inked over his heart.

My stomach lurches.

I jerk away, and he allows me to break from his hold. His hands clench at his sides, his entire body practically vibrating with the suppressed desire to reach for me.

“Where are my clothes?” I demand.

He tips his head in the direction of the stairs. “In the dryer. It’s just off the kitchen. I can show you⁠—”

I hold up my hand again. “No. I don’t want you anywhere near me. I can take care of myself.”

His face draws into forbidding lines. “It’s not safe for you out there. You need me.”

“I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything from you.” I gesture sharply in direction of the dead body, but I keep my eyes carefully averted. “My stalker is dead. I’m not in any danger from him anymore.”

“Don’t go, Karolina. Please. Stay here while I take care of this.”

“Take care of what?”

A shadow flits at his jaw. “I have to get rid of the body. Unless you’re planning to go to the police?”

I purse my lips.

No. I can’t go to the police.

I won’t risk my real identity being discovered. I can’t have my visa revoked.

I won’t allow my new life as Lena Williams to be snatched away from me. I’ve worked too hard to survive. I won’t lose everything now.

I tear my gaze from Rand’s anguished face.

“I’m leaving now. Don’t follow me.”

A low growl slips from him, and I shiver at the primal sound of raw frustration.

“Stay.”

“You don’t get to order me around,” I snap back.

“We will discuss this later,” he says, voice barely human.

He sounds like Bones.

He is Bones.

“We’ll talk when—if—I decide I’m ready to talk.” I still can’t meet his eye.

My mind spins with dozens of questions, but I can’t linger. I can’t allow myself to stay close to Rand’s allure.

And I need to get away from the dead body before memories of the night I committed my own murders drags me back under. I’m so close to a panic attack that I feel my chest drawing tight.

I forcibly draw a deep breath and turn on my heel. I dart down the stairs, making my way to the kitchen to retrieve my clothes. It takes a few minutes stumbling around the huge, unfamiliar house, but eventually I find the dryer.

I get dressed with trembling hands, but even when I’m covered, I feel naked.

I trusted Rand, and he stripped me bare to my soul.

My stalker is dead, but I’ve never felt more vulnerable in my life.