15. Ava

AVA

E bony stood in the doorway to the mansion, the all-white silk pant suit and Ferragamo wraparound coat draped over her shoulders making the sky blue of her eyes stand out even more.

Mr. O’Rourke, along with Angus, with one of her guards, were loading her suitcases into the trunk of her town car for yet another one of her business trips.

Please don’t leave me home alone, I wanted to say to her . But for some reason, my mouth wouldn’t work.

She must have caught the fear radiating on my face because she turned to face me and said, “Darling, are you okay?”

“Grand,” I lied.

I knew I was supposed to trust Ebony like a mother. Didn’t daughters tell their mothers everything? But I just couldn’t force out the words.

How was I supposed to admit I’d been tied up and assaulted in my bed ?

That he chased me through the library before fucking me against the shelves?

I hated admitting it, even to myself, but the truth was there, twisting in my chest.

I was afraid—terrified, even—but underneath the fear was something else, something I could barely name.

The way my heart raced, the way every nerve in my body lit up when he was near—it wasn’t just fear driving me. It was desire.

I wanted it to happen again.

I liked it.

I came, hard, around my stalker’s knife handle and even harder around his cock. And I wanted to come again. Again and again.

On his fingers, on his tongue, on his cock.

I tried to focus on the wrongness of it all, but I couldn’t deny how alive I felt when he was close. The tension between us, the unspoken electricity, made everything sharper, more intense.

Even as my mind screamed at me to run, to stay far away, but my body… it betrayed me.

I wasn’t sure if I feared what would happen next, or if I longed for it.

Maybe both.

And I knew that if it happened again, I’d be lost. I’d cross a line so dark, there’d be no finding my way back.

“Go.” I nudged Ebony. “Bring me back something nice.”

Ebony gave me an amused look and tapped her chin. “Several days of board meetings at the Oxford Medical School… I could bring you back a pickled pig’s heart? ”

I made a face. “Er, okay, maybe just bring yourself back, then.”

Her guard closed the trunk of her car. “We’re ready, Miss McKinsey.”

“Thank you, Angus,” Ebony called back to him and readjusted the coat on her shoulders.

“Safe travels,” I said, my fingers flinching out as if to grab her in a hug and not let go.

She hesitated on the step, turning to study me again. “If there was something wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

“Right.” I scratched the back of my neck.

Ebony pressed the back of her hand on my forehead, her eyebrows furrowed with concern. “If you’re not feeling well, tell O’Rourke. He’ll take care of you while I’m away.”

From over her shoulder, the butler in question scowled at me, making it very clear that he would not be looking after me at all while she was away. I’d be lucky to see him in the main house let alone get a glass of water from him.

He wouldn’t come running to help, even if I were being killed.

I shrugged off Ebony’s concerns. “I’m grand. It’s just school. My classes are really kicking my ass this term.”

Ebony tsked . “Homework before newspaper work, young lady.”

Ebony was best as the stern mother figure. It was most natural.

Like I was a little girl who needed instructions when being left alone at home.

But I hadn’t been a little girl for a long time.

He certainly hadn’t touched me like I was a little girl…

“I promise,” I lied .

I waved goodbye as Ebony drove away. But I knew she was already hunched over her phone, consumed as usual by work.

I hurried inside and scanned the empty driveway from the kitchen window, the trees looking like black webs against the purple of dawn.

No one was watching me. I was alone. Everything was fine.

I mean, I hadn’t heard from my stalker in days. Had barely felt his eyes on me. Hadn’t caught the sight of his dark silhouette following me around since that day at the library.

But then again, since he stole my adoption records, I hadn’t had any more leads to follow. Not yet.

It seemed he only showed up when he wanted to stop me from doing something.

A rebellious part of me wanted to do something, anything , to provoke him.

I turned on the coffee machine and rubbed my eyes as I waited for it to warm up, the sound of grinding and rushing water as the machine cleaned itself filling the mansion with noise. When it finished, silence fell over the giant mansion.

Click.

A noise had the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I froze with my hand outstretched for the bag of beans in the cupboard.

That sounded like the front door.

Click.

That sounded like a footstep.

For a second I wondered if Ebony had returned, come back for something she’d forgotten. But Ebony would never walk so hesitantly. She’d call out.

Someone was in the house who wasn’t supposed to be here.

He was in the house.

And I was alone.

I didn’t stop to consider the irony that I’d only just been considering how to bait him out into the open again.

Chasing me in the library was one thing. Hunting me down in my own fucking home was another. I would not be a helpless little prey in my own house.

And besides, he owed me answers. He owed me my fucking adoption papers back.

I grabbed the biggest knife from the butcher’s block.

Looking back now, I realize how laughable it was that I thought I was going to scare him into giving me answers.

What was his name? Who was he? Why did I have memories of him chasing me as a child?

But in that moment, my nerves were steeled as I gripped my weapon. It was my turn to turn the knife on him.

I was going to get my fucking answers. Whether it killed me or not.

I stalked down the darkened hallway with my back to the wood paneled wall. I held the knife in front of my chest with both hands.

I heard footsteps in the foyer ahead.

It was clumsy of him. Had he really grown so reckless since the last time he snuck in? Had the fact that he’d brought me to orgasm emboldened him so much? If he no longer thought he needed to be silent when he hunted me, what other precautions would he throw aside ?

The light from the chandelier glinted off the blade of my knife as a long shadow appeared from around the corner.

His arrogance infuriated me, made me grit my teeth so hard that my jaw ached. Did he really think I was going to let him repeat his sins so easily?

A heat flared between my legs. Could he possibly know I’d liked it that much?

I rounded the corner into the foyer, knife raised, ready to drive the blade through my shadowy figure’s heart.

A familiar yelp sent my knife clattering to the marble floors.

It was not my stalker.

Cormac caught himself against the ornate wooden railing. “Ava, what the actual fuck ?”

I clutched at my heart. “I thought you were…”

Never mind who I thought he was.

“What are you doing here?” I stood to full height and fisted my hands onto my hips.

“I wanted to see you, obviously.” Cormac rubbed the space on his chest over his heart. “Didn’t think I’d get greeted by a knife .”

I threw my hands in the air. “If you insist on sneaking up on a girl while she’s home alone, don’t be surprised if you get stabbed in the face.”

He let out a snort as he brushed down his pale-blue Ralph Lauren sweater, as if my startling him caused it to crease. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I glared past him to the closed front door. “How did you even get in?”

Cormac followed my gaze. “It was unlocked.”

I pawed through my recent memories. I thought I had locked the front door. Hadn’t I? Surely I wouldn’t have left it unlocked, especially with me at home alone with a frigging stalker prowling around.

Not that a locked door had ever stopped him before.

I glared at my ex, standing there looking sheepish with his hands in the pockets of his cream chinos.

Were his boyish cheeks red from almost being stabbed by a knife? Or was he lying to me?

I swore I’d locked the front door.

But my mind wasn’t exactly reliable. So I couldn’t be sure.

I eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want, Cormac?”

He shot me his famous charming grin, a grin that for some reason never really worked on me. “I have something for you.”

God, if this was some kind of stupid overpriced present in order to convince me to get back together with him, I would throw up.

I aimed for the coffee machine across the kitchen. “Unless it’s a giant double-shot espresso, I don’t want it.”

Cormac stepped into my path. “No, I’m serious. You’ve got to come with me.”

I sidestepped him and managed to get past him.

It was too early to deal with his shit without caffeine.

I pulled out the bag of whole beans that Ebony had imported directly from Colombia and poured it into the machine, the earthy scent of roasted beans calming me. “Give it a rest, Cormac. I’m not getting back together with you.”

He grabbed my arm so hard that it hurt, whirling me around to face him and crushing me against the edge of the counter.

I let out a cry, dropping the coffee bag, beans spilling all over the edge of the counter and skittering across the marble floor.

I knew Cormac was a dick, but I thought he was a harmless pretty boy dick.

I was wrong.

“You snobby bitch.” Cormac had morphed into a stranger, his usually pretty boy features hardening into cruel lines.

“Let go of me.” I yanked my arm, trying to get out of his grip.

His grip tightened around my forearm and I knew it would leave a bruise. “You are coming with me.”

Every muscle tensed as if bracing for impact, a cold shiver running down my spine.

I didn’t know where Cormac was taking me, but I didn’t want to go.

Fuck, where was my knife?

It was still lying forgotten on the marble floor in the hallway.

“No.” I aimed for his crotch with my knee. But he had me pressed right up against the counter and I had no leverage.

He deflected my knee with his thigh and scowled, his voice growing hard and bitter. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Take your fucking hands off her.”

A familiar deep voice boomed through the kitchen.

Relief surged through me as my stalker appeared in the entrance dressed in his usual all-black ensemble, his leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders.

I’d never seen his intense piercing eyes so icy and lethal. If looks could kill, Cormac would be dead already.

I realized then that my stalker had never really been a threat to me.

He’d glared at me with anger, with annoyance and frustration. But never with this murderous intention.

Cormac whirled his head around toward the voice, his grip on me loosening enough at the distraction that I was able to yank my arm out.

I ran right into my stalker’s outstretched arm.

His grip tightened around my shoulders as he pulled me against his muscular body, shifting so that he was standing between me and my ex.

I melted against him, letting his strong hold calm me.

I know how ironic that sounds. From one monster’s grasp to another. Stupid, right?

I had no qualms that my stalker was just a predator protecting his prey from another predator.

But as crazy as it sounded, my stalker felt safe . He protected me before. He was protecting me here.

Even if it was just to protect me so that he could punish me himself.

I’d deal with that later. One dangerous situation at a time.

“Who the fuck is this?” Cormac demanded, eyeing my stalker up and down with a sneer.

“He’s my…” My stalker? My evil lover? My death sentence I kind of want to sign?

“Her boyfriend,” my stalker interrupted .

My what now?

I gulped down a gasp as I stared up at his stern, sculpted profile.

He looked deadly serious. Did he actually think in some twisted way that he was my boyfriend? Or was he just presenting a cover to Cormac?

And why the fuck did I kinda like the sound of it.

My boyfriend… my psycho stalker who’s name I don’t even know.

My ex turned to me. “Your boyfriend ?”

I straightened and placed a hand on my stalker’s chest. Damn. It was firm as fuck.

“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “My boyfriend… Scáth .”

I almost winced at the name I’d given him.

Scáth meant shadow in Irish.

I swear the corner of my stalker’s lip lifted in a tiny smirk. He was amused.

Cormac let out a scoff. “Since when did you start dating the help?”

I guess that’s what Cormac saw when he looked at my stalker.

His black leather jacket and black jeans weren’t designer brands.

His hair was a little too long and a little too messy, unlike the clean-cut preppy styles that gentlemen favored.

His body was a little too muscular, too thick, too brutal-looking to be mistaken for the lean figures that the Darkmoor rowing and polo boys developed.

And there was no mistaking the dangerous-looking ink that curled out over his collar and sleeves.

No ‘good ol’ boy’ would dare to stain their pretty, well- buffed skin with something as primitive as a tattoo, for goodness’ sake.

I’ve seen grown men wither under Cormac’s judgmental sneer.

My stalker—Scáth—merely looked back at my ex as if he were an annoying bug he was going to skewer onto a toothpick and torture before he squashed.

“Touch her again,” Scáth warned, his voice hard and brutal as he brandished the knife I’d dropped in the hallway, “and I will cut off your hands and feed them to you, finger by bloody finger.”

My ex blanched, his eyes widening at the glinting blade, his cheeks going pale like he was about to faint.

He should be scared. The things this man can do with a knife…

A thrill rushed through me. At the violence Scáth was threatening on my asshole ex, at the overprotective way he held me, at the memory of what he did to me the last time he had a knife in his hand.

Wetness trickled into my panties.

God, I was fucked up.

Scáth tucked me even closer to him, his hold possessive. “Only I get to touch her.”

I gasped as his words unlocked a memory that crashed over me.