“Who do you think broke in?” she asks, finally slicing through the silence.
I don’t have a clue, but I’m going to find out. The thought that she could have been in danger shreds what’s left of my sanity. If anyone touches her…
“They come back tonight, I’ll be waiting for them.” The menace in my voice would be enough to scare even my brothers, but Amalia stares at me, her expression is soft. It’s not something I normally see from a woman and it makes my dick stand up and pay attention. Most of the women in my life are kutte sluts and bunnies, all trying to get their piece of me, trying to get my patch on their backs. They realise quickly that’s not going to happen, but I’ve had to put a few bitches in their place over the years. Amalia is different. I could tell that from the first moment I met her.
“Thank you, Fury.”
Her words startle me. In my entire life no one has ever thanked me for shit. Blamed me, sure, but thanked me? Fuck no.
My brows draw together as my thoughts battle each other. “For what?”
“Being here. Protecting me. I know it was a little weird how we got here, but I trust you to keep me safe.”
Her words are a wrecking ball to the gut. How can she place so much trust in a man like me? A man with no scruples, little morals, and psychological issues that would scare the average shrink. I’m not someone she should be putting her faith in. I’m not the good guy in this situation.
I’d be better walking away, leaving her before I mar her with my filth, but I can’t. Not now that I’ve made contact with her. If anything, my obsession is growing deeper the more I’m around her. I’ve never known a woman not be scared of me, treat me like a human. She’s one of a kind.
“You shouldn’t trust me,” I tell her, my voice low. “I’m not a good man.”
“You’re better than you think.”
Amalia has no idea what she’s talking about. Once she sees behind the mask, all this will vanish. She won’t want to be near me, and I don’t blame her. I’m a scary motherfucker. Sometimes, I scare even myself.
I don’t reply to her words, instead, I focus back on the television. The last thing I should be doing is encouraging anything between us. Feelings don’t have a place in my world. They never have. I shouldn’t start now.
After the movie, she gets ready for bed and I stay on the sofa. I don’t undress or kick my boots off, in case I need to move fast, but I sit on the edge of the cushions, waiting. There’s nothing to say this fucker will come back tonight, but if he does, I want to be here.
I’m sitting in the dark, waiting. The hours tick by slowly. The silence doesn’t bother me. I prefer it, but the thought of her lying down the hallway, snuggled under her covers makes my cock as hard as a rock. I want her, but I don’t do feelings. I don’t do hearts and flowers. A relationship with me would never look normal because I don’t know how to do normal. I would destroy her from the inside out, fill her with my rotten filth. She would no longer be an angel, and I don’t know how I feel about being the one to destroy her.
A noise catches my attention. I freeze, listening. It sounds again. It takes me a moment to realise it’s movement from the bedroom. When the door opens, my heart sticks before beating freely again.
Amalia appears in the doorway. I can barely make her out through the darkness, but I squint trying to get a look at her anyway, needing to see her. She consumes me, and that scares me. I’ve never had this level of obsession for another person.
“Fury? Are you awake?”
“Yeah.”
She moves and I track her shadowy figure as she comes towards the sofa. I feel it dip as she sinks onto it, keeping a little distance between us. I can feel her presence close to me, her smell wraps around me like fucking sunshine, and it soothes the beast inside me. I want to reach out and close that distance between us, but I keep my hands to myself, not able to step off that ledge yet.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Should try,” I tell her.
I can feel the weight of her eyes on me, searching in the dark for answers to the enigma she sees me as. She’s wrong. I’m a simple man with simple needs. My needs are just dark, depraved, too disgusting to discuss with someone as pure as Amalia, with anyone. Even my brothers who have their own demons would not understand my lust for blood, my need to cause harm. My nature goes against everything society stands for. I know I’m broken. I gave up a long time ago trying to fix myself. There’s no remedy for what’s wrong with me.
“Do you think he’ll come back tonight?”
“Don’t know.”
It depends if the break-in was random or if she was targeted. I suspect she disturbed an opportunist, which means I have no reason to be in her flat. He won’t try the same place twice, if he’s smart, so she’ll probably be fine without me here, but even the hint of danger makes my hands get clammy and my chest ache like I’ve never experienced. The thought of anything happening to her makes me homicidal. I don’t know how this woman became important to me, but she’s everything I need, but everything I don’t deserve.
She pulls something off the back of the sofa and to my fucking surprise covers me with a blanket. The yarn is heavy, but instantly warms me. I’ve never had a woman
