Aflame. Krissy Daniels

she be so stupid?

      Really? Soul mates? Yeah right. Shit like that never happened in real life. Perfect men didn’t appear out of the blue and kiss a woman like his very existence depended on it. There sure as hell wasn’t a world full of hearts, roses and chocolate truffles where lovers went to live in bliss. Soul mates? Sounded like a pathetic fucking romance movie. Was the word imbecile tattooed across her forehead?

      She fell for that load of crap once. Been paying for it ever since.

      The memory of Tyr’s seduction all those years ago snapped her back to the reality that was her life. “Is this a fucking joke?” She spit. “Did Tyr send you? Did that mother fucking psychopath send you? How the hell did he find me?” Panic bubbled its ascent from gut to brain, stifling her ability to breathe. “Did he think I’d fall for this load of shit?” She punched him hard in the chest. “Ow, dammit.” May as well have been a steel beam.

      “Grayce.” Grabbing her shoulders, he tried to calm her. Electricity passed between them again, angry and violent this time. “Listen to me. This isn’t a joke. I...I...” He shook his head, disbelief etched in his eyes.

      “Oh God, please don’t take me back to him. I’ll do anything. Please.” Full blown panic mode set in. “I have money. It’s not a lot, but you have to understand. I can’t go back.”

      “Listen, nobody sent me. I found you. We found each other. Let me explain, please.” His pathetic attempt at offering comfort only fueled her fire. He reached around to hold her but she squirmed from under his grip, slid to her knees and crawled across the floor. After she’d cleared the dining area, she pushed to her feet, rounded the corner to the kitchen and grabbed her chef’s knife from the counter.

      “Get the hell out of my house.” Did she sound insane? Without a doubt. Could she stop it? No. Emotion had taken over the driver’s seat and steered her straight toward Crazyville. “Get out. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill myself before I let him get near me.” Clumsily, she pointed the knife at him. “I will not go back to that life.” Head throbbing, she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. Anger held the tears at bay. “No. No! Tell that sick, psychotic piece of shit I’m not running anymore. He can come after me with everything he’s got, but I’m not running anymore.”

      Everything turned red again. A warm glow surrounded her, urged her to continue. “I won’t let him touch me ever again.” Conviction carried that statement through the small apartment. Bravery replaced fear, and damned if it didn’t feel amazing.

      Zander’s demeanor changed in an instant. One second he was pleading and bewildered, the next, he radiated stone cold fury. A burst of heat pulsed through the room. In a flash, they were nose to nose. The blade of the knife bent like putty in his fist and flew across the room. Cupping her cheeks, he growled.

      “Did he hurt you?” He drew jagged breaths. Attempts at freeing herself from his grip were futile. He wouldn’t budge. “Answer my question, Grayce. Did he hurt you?” His hands seared her flesh. Or was it her cheeks burning his hands? Hard to tell.

      “Let go of me. Get the hell out of my house.” She struggled to loosen his grip, to pull heated fingers from her skin, but it was like trying to bend a railway tie. Useless waste of energy.

      He released her, and in a split second was gone. A rush of hot air blew her hair up and across her face. Her cheeks burned. Every inch of her skin was hot. She stammered to the couch, threw herself into the cushions and gave in to a full blown snot and tears meltdown.

      * * * *

      Grayce woke with a jump to a racing heartbeat, spurred by more dreams of the monster. Damn, this had to stop. Peeling her face off the pile of tissues she’d fallen asleep on, she rubbed swollen eyes before she was able to focus on the clock above the television. Thank God, it was only six.

      Letting the shower run extra hot, a luxury she rarely indulged in, Grayce curled in a ball under the soothing water. Brushing a finger lightly across her lips, she closed her eyes and replayed the kiss over and over in her head. No revulsion, no compulsion to punch him, no retreating to her dark place. She stayed present. Wasn’t afraid. Wanted more. How was that possible? If anything, she should be more afraid of him for the mere fact he was impossibly large and fierce.

      Steam billowed around her as she stepped out. She wiped condensation from the mirror and gasped at the sight. Her face glowed where Zander had grasped her cheeks, like she’d spent a day in the sun. She ran her fingers gently across the sensitive skin. They weren’t sore, but they tingled, and when she closed her eyes to picture his hold on her face, she was disappointed by the warming in her lower belly. Oh my fuck.

      Must be getting sick. It was the only logical explanation, because in no known universe would her body react this way to any man. Least of all this beast who could crush Tyr with one strike of his powerful fist. Grind his bones into the pavement.

      Shit. Tyr. Why the nightmares? What’s changed? And what’s with the freak-outs and losing control? Yeah, she was sick, no question about it.

      She cranked the volume on the stereo hoping it would offer distraction from the fear bubbling beneath the surface of her psyche.

      The funny thing about hiding from a monster —at some point, she’d have to strap on boxing gloves and fight for her life or tighten her laces and run like hell. It’d taken her years to realize that running was pointless. Nobody ever really got away, especially from the monsters with money and power. So why run at all? Either way, she’d end up six feet under or wishing she was.

      Grayce had settled in Chastain, Idaho because it was large enough that she could blend in unnoticed, but remote enough that she could disappear into the Bitterroot Mountains in any direction if necessary. It was a quaint town, populated by nature lovers, retired military, celebrities and the few generations of mining families that stuck around after the Gold Greek Mines shut down in the early 1970s. Most of the large homes sat on acres of land, were second or third houses to the rich and famous and sat vacant for months on end. She’d squatted in a few of them until she found a job and decided to stay.

      The town had grown on her and she hated the thought of leaving. So, she had to keep it together, not let Tyr, or memories of him, ruin her life any further. She was staying put, that’s all there was to it.

      Maybe she’d sign up for additional self defense classes. If Tyr did find her, she wanted to fight like hell. She’d probably go down, but fuck it, she’d go down kicking and screaming, hopefully with chunks of his flesh in her hands and teeth.

      Heading for the door, she remembered her car had been left at the gym. “Oh shit!” Her scream to nobody echoed through the small room. Could this day get any worse? She grabbed her phone to call a taxi. A bomb burst inside her ribcage when she noticed a text. From him.

       Your car is outside. Z

      She ran to the window and there it sat, parked outside, just like he said. Holy cow, did he wash it too? It shined. Even the tires were clean. When? How? She ran through the events of the last twenty-four hours in her head. Of course, he must have brought it when he came earlier. Did he steal her keys? How’d he get home afterward? Too much to process. With a huff, she snatched her handbag and headed to work.