Predator - A Stand Alone Suspense Romance (9 page)

Cara~

“Go make yourself pretty, we’re going out.” He drops the bomb on me a week later.

“Huh.” I glance over my shoulder to where he’s leaning against the counter. My hands still in the warm water as I wait for him to explain.

“Don’t grunt at me. You heard me. Now go,” he growls, but there’s no bite to his growl. There hasn’t been any bite to his voice since he hugged me in that motel room.

I don’t know what changed between us but I’m wary of it.

I finish washing the fork and let the dirty water drain out. As I dry my hands I can still feel his eyes on me so I hang the cloth quickly and rush out of the kitchen.

I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to see people. I want to stay here where it’s only us, where I’m safe. The last time we left the house it turned out quite disastrous in my books.

Thirty minutes later he knocks on my door. I stare at him, actually I gawk at him. He’s all dressed up. I mean he really looks good. Black jeans, charcoal button up shirt that accentuates the gray of his eyes and I think he knows that. That’s why he wears that color all the time.

He steps closer and I catch a faint scent in the air. Shit! He’s even smelling different, a good kind of different. The spicy scent quickly fills the room and it makes my mouth water.

He frowns when he sees that I haven’t changed yet.

“People, Damian!” It’s all I can say to try to make him understand.

“You’re not gonna lock yourself up in this house. I gave you weeks. It takes two weeks to break a habit and to build one up. You’ve had more than two. You’re making it a habit to stay in this room if you’re not cleaning or cooking. You don’t even go outside. You’re not a damn slave,” he snaps.

Well, at least the bite is back.

“I enjoy doing those things.” I defend myself lamely.

His face darkens and he stalks over to my cupboard. I never get in Damian’s way, just because I know I won’t win once he has that look in his eyes. He moves one hanger after another and then he throws a pair of slacks and an old shirt on the bed. I almost roll my eyes at him. I mean, really.

“Get dressed or I’m dressing you,” he snaps before he stalks out.

I stare at the plain outfit and then walk over to the cupboard. I say a silent prayer of thanks for the new outfits I got a week ago. He must’ve chosen the oldest stuff out of the cupboard.

Willfulness sets in and I search through the cupboard for something else to wear.

“I’ll show you,” I hiss, before I grab an outfit I never would’ve worn unless I was pissed off.

I get dressed fast and pull a brush through my hair. Make-up would’ve been real welcome right about now, but I’ve done the best I can with what I have.

I find him in the kitchen pouring two glasses of water. He places one to the side with two tablets.

“Aspirin,” he growls and I pull a ‘why’ face. “I don’t have a headache,” I snap back at him.

“Fuck, Woman! Just take it,” he growls and then he takes a deep breath. “It will help so that you don’t have a hangover tomorrow, should you decide to drink tonight.” I watch him swallow two tablets. He’s obviously going to booze it up. This I’d actually pay to see.

When I don’t move to take the tablets, he glances at me from over his shoulder. His lips are still wet from the water he just drank and I watch them part as he sucks in a breath. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, and I suddenly feel very conscious of my choice of clothing.

“Change.” The word rushes from my sudden dry lips. “I should change, yeah.” I sound like freaking Yoda. 

“No.” The word is hard and fast. He shakes his head and turns his body so he’s facing me and then leans back against the counter. “I’m taking my gun with,” he says casually, “and you are not leaving my side.”

I look down at the short skirt that stops a few inches above my knees. It didn’t look that short when I got it. To my defense I’m at least wearing black stockings to cover my legs and the boots come up to just under my knees. My body is mostly covered. The long sleeve shirt covers everything. It might sit tight but it covers everything.

“You said to get dressed,” I say dryly. “You said we’re going out,” I keep going and then I wave a hand at him. “You got all dressed up and I had to try and match.” His eyebrow jumps and I flush.

“Drink the tablets,” he says.

He doesn’t move away when I walk closer and my heart leaps to my throat when his eyes follow me across the kitchen. There is a different look in his normally dark eyes, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

His voice drops and his lips curl into a slow smile, “You look good, Cara.”

I choke on the sip of water I just took. His hand settles on my stomach and he whacks me between my shoulder blades. I clear my throat and my watering eyes drop to his hand that’s still on my stomach.

“Take another sip.” His voice is deep and right by my ear. I take a huge gulp. It goes down hard, like I just swallowed sand. “Good girl.” Then his hand slips over to my side and he nudges softly. “Let’s go.”

I’m just plain freaking out as Damian parks the car outside a bar.

He gets out and I just can’t bring myself to open the door. I’m safe in the car.

Shit, I should’ve stayed at home. What the hell am I doing outside a bar? I’m not ready for this. Anxiety grips my chest in a painful hold.

The last time I was at a bar … I met Steven. I fucked up and I paid dearly for it.

My body starts to tremble at the horrible memories.

I can’t do this!

My eyes dart around the parking area and then they jump to Damian. I watch him stalk around the front of the car and I clasp my hands tighter on my lap. He yanks the door open and takes my hand right from my lap.

“Out,” he barks. The sound is sharp on my frail nerves. 

I do an awkward stumble out of the car and he moves in close to me. Our bodies brush as he leans in to close the door. He doesn’t pull back but instead turns his face to mine. His warm breath chases the cold air from my neck. It makes me feel anxious. I’ve never felt so conflicted about another human being before. I know I’m safe with him, but being so close to him makes me shiver with both fear and comfort. It’s bewildering.

“You’ll be fine in there. I’m here. I have your back, Cara.” Then he pulls away and lifts my chin. I keep it up when he lets go.

Maybe I can fake the strength he wants to see on my face, because I sure as hell don’t feel strong.

I stay close to him and resist the urge to grab for his hand. I try to get control over the rampant emotions that’s wreaking havoc inside me.

The air is stale with cigarette smoke before we even enter the bar. The smell makes me hunch my shoulders and I wrap my arms around me, grabbing my sides tightly.

As he opens the door, laughter and music hits me full on. Dimmed lights, bodies moving, constant laughter and loud voices, and then there’s a sharp pitched scream as a huge man slaps a waitress on the ass. I stumble back from it all. The smoke is overwhelmingly thick and it presses against my face. I feel sick. Shit, I’m going to vomit. I can’t do this.

Panic flairs hot through me and my breathing speeds up.

Damian’s arm goes around my waist. He pulls me to stand right in front of him. His chest presses to my back and his hand slides to my hip. He nudges me slightly. I take an uneasy step, my eyes darting everywhere. I know he has my back, but it doesn’t ease the overwhelming feeling of being out in public.

I walk where he steers me. A huge man staggers in front of me and he grabs for me. I shriek and jump back, slamming into Damian. I spin around and grab hold of his shirt. “Please, I can’t,” I whimper, near hysterics.

I feel his breath on my cheek and then his arms go around me, locking me against his chest. I was wrong earlier – I fear everything around me, but not Damian. I don’t know why but I trust him with the sliver of life I have left. I trust him more than I trust myself, because I almost got myself killed. It’s my fault they raped me, because I put myself in that horrid situation. But Damian … he saved me. He protects me, and that is much more than I have done for myself.

“I have you. You’re safe.” I can barely hear him, but the words sink deep.

I look down at my fingers digging into his shirt. I didn’t even know I was holding on so tightly. I pry my fingers loose and suck in a deep breath. The thick smell of smoke is not so overwhelming anymore. Mixed scents fill the air, making it easier to breathe.

Slowly, he lets go of me and then he reaches for my hand. I stay glued to his side as we make our way to the bar. I keep my eyes on his hand holding mine.

I listen as he places an order and I take the glass when he hands it to me. I bring it to my lips and throw my head back, letting the liquid burn down my throat. Then I focus my eyes on the black ink curling from his wrist to where it disappears under the rolled up sleeve. My eyes follow his arm as he reaches for me and I move at the same time, knowing safety is with him. No one can touch me if I’m with him.

His arm slips around my waist. He leans in close so I can hear him. “Listen to me,” he says. I nod and my body warms from the liquid. “I’m here and nothing will happen. They are only people. You’ll most probably never see them again after tonight. Focus
only
on me. Breathe in and out.” I do what he says and I breathe his spicy cologne in.

I pull back only enough to look up at him and a smile starts to pull at his lips. I stand on my toes so I can reach his ear. “Just don’t leave me alone.” I don’t care that I sound needy. I’ll die if he leaves me here.

“Not a fucking chance in hell of that happening tonight.” His voice is deep and reassuring. “Another drink then we dance.” He sounds normal again.

The word
dance
registers somewhere in my frazzled mind. I pull back and everything comes into focus. We’re standing at a horseshoe shaped bar. The wood has been worn through over the years. Bowls of peanuts are spaced over the counter. I once read that it’s one of the dirtiest things on the planet next to a public toilet.

The bar is not as full as it felt when we first came in. Only half the seats are taken. My eyes keep taking in everything and then I see the dance floor and I realize why the bar looks empty. Most of the people are there, swaying to the song I haven’t even been listening to.

I don’t know it, but then I don’t know ninety percent of the songs out there. The band is playing a real slow song and I listen as Damian places another order.

His eyes are serious when they come back to me. I used to be scared of making eye contact with him, but right now that dark look in his eyes grounds me. It means protection for me and death for anyone who tries to hurt me. Damian is my shield against the world.

I don’t down the next drink. I make it last four huge gulps. “I charge a fee to carry you home, but dancing is for free. Come on.” He takes my hand as the first piano notes of a song start up. It sounds sad.

“I can’t dance,” I say anxiously. He doesn’t listen and pulls me across the floor. “Damian, I’ve never danced,” I try again.

When we reach the dance floor, he turns to me and then pulls me to his chest.

He doesn’t hold me like some of the other couples are holding each other. He takes my hand and holds it to his chest. His other hand presses lightly against my lower back, securing me to his body. I stare up at him with huge eyes. This is so unlike Damian. I’m not sure what to make of it. I never took him for someone who likes to dance.