But the club just gave me legitimacy. I had a reason for getting bloody. For the first time in my life my true nature was embraced rather than feared.
Touching Amalia, tainting her with my perversions doesn’t seem right, but I can’t stay away, and no one, not even Amalia, is going to keep me away. She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Chapter Five
Amalia
He’s sitting outside the flat again.
For nearly two months now, he’s been here every night like clockwork. At first, I was so petrified, I could barely sleep, but I’m getting used to his presence. In a weird way, it’s almost reassuring having him out there, which is crazy. Who thinks like this? I have something seriously wrong with me.
I don’t know how, but I know he won’t hurt me if I keep my end of the bargain, and I plan on doing that. I have absolutely no intention of opening my mouth and ever talking about what I saw, even though it’s embedded in my brain and will be for the rest of my days. I don’t know what Max did to piss these guys off, but he had to know the risk he was taking when he went up against them. I’ve heard of the Untamed Sons—everyone in the borough has. They’re dangerous men with reputations that are so dark, they’re terrifying. Why Max risked pissing them off, I don’t know.
But despite murdering a man, my stalker did try to protect me from his friend. He refused to hurt me, even though it could have cost him his freedom. He’s also been camped outside my house for the past seven weeks, trying to put the fear of God into me. He’s certainly an enigma.
I let the curtain fall and step away from the window, the view of him sitting astride his bike moving out of my eyeline. He’s a big guy, well over six foot, with blond hair shaved close to his head and a beard that covers most of his face. It makes him look savage, which I’m sure he is.
With a huff, I head over to the sofa and curl up on the cushions, continuing to watch the action flick I was halfway through when I heard his bike rumbling up the street, but my mind is on the mountain of a man sitting outside my place.
What’s his name?
What’s his story?
After the movie finishes, I move back to the window and peer out. He’s still sitting outside my place, astride his bike like a statue. The days are warm, but the temperature drops in the evening. He has to be chilled to the bone.
I let the curtain drop and head to my bedroom. Careful to ensure all the blinds are shut, I undress and slip under the covers.
I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when a noise drags me back to the waking world. Surrounded by thick, inky blackness, I try to peer through the darkness and figure out what disturbed me, but there’s nothing. The flat is eerily quiet. I listen for a moment longer, then close my eyes.
It’s then I hear the noise again and then the sound of something falling over. Fear licks up my spine as I throw the covers back and climb carefully out of bed. My heart is hammering beneath my ribs and my chest is heaving as my breath rips out of me.
Has he finally come into the flat? Did I underestimate his danger? I move to the door, and with trembling fingers pull it open. My breath sticks in my throat as I stand, staring up the corridor that leads to the living space. There’s a figure at the end of it, highlighted in the shadows.
I scream. It rips out of me before I can stop it, and the figure darts off. Rushing back into the bedroom, I flick the lock on the door and duck down behind the bed, hiding, trying not to lose my shit. I’m petrified. I should call the police, but something tells me that’s not a good idea. The Untamed Sons are waiting on me to snitch and the last thing I want is to end up on is the wrong side of a bullet, like Max.
I sit there until the sun comes up, shivering against the cold, my mind racing, my heart galloping in my chest. As the light floods through the curtains, I push to my feet and move to the bedroom door. No one tried to come in last night, so I feel safe enough to open the door. Just in case someone is out there, I grab the only weapon I have—a stiletto high heel. It won’t do much damage, but it might be enough to get safe.
I slowly open the door and step into the hallway. I can barely draw air as I move up it towards the living room. My hands are shaking and my legs feel like jelly. When I step into the living room, it’s empty. I let out my breath and lower the shoe.
Shit.
It’s then I notice the plant pot on the windowsill is on the floor, soil covering the carpet. The window is open. I swallow bile as I move over to it and quickly close it. Someone was in my house.
The rest of the day, I’m on edge, my heart sitting in my throat the whole time. Once the sun sets, I’m on guard, waiting. As soon as I hear
