I sniffled a few times, not wanting to argue anymore about the source of the danger.
“I’m yours.” I told him, knowing deep in my bones it was true, and we both needed to hear me say it.
“I protect what’s mine, Claire. I will do anything to take care of you.” The vow in his voice frightened me. I loved him, but I wasn’t ready to share that yet. Did he love me back, or did he need to own me?
“No one has ever taken care of me before,” I confessed into his delicious-smelling chest.
“I know that, beautiful girl.”
“Please take me home.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me back into the club. Emma was doing an excellent impression of a mating dance with a sexy guy. They seemed like they knew each other and I wondered if he was the linebacker she said she had nothing in common with. He was sleek and dangerous looking, with dark hair and a devilish glint to him.
There was no way it was the same guy, but now I was desperate for whatever story there was between them. I caught her eye as I passed, pointing to the door and waving. She nodded and waved, her usual joking light missing from her eyes, as she turned back to the man. I giggled a little, thinking of how pushy I was going to be when I demanded her to tell me all about him.
The night was chilly, and midnight quickly approached. We stayed longer than he said initially. I wanted to tease Mr. Control Freak about the fact it was his doing, but his serious face was not in the mood for jokes. Mason kept his arm tightly around me as we walked back to my apartment. His eyes darted back and forth, constantly surveying our surroundings. I leaned into him for support, trying my best to not let his vigilance wear off on me. Goosebumps prickled on my skin, and I couldn’t tell if they came from the cold or the eerie feeling of unknown eyes tracing over me.
Mason and I climbed the steps up to the building, and I shoved my key into the lock. The tenants kept the door wedged open during the day, but none of us were crazy enough to leave it open at night. Even crappy d-list apartments have things and people worthy of protecting.
I glanced up at Mason, unable to believe a man like him wanted to protectme.A little shiver ran through me at the thought, but the sensation morphed into something else as we climbed the stairs up to the second floor. From the hall, everything looked fine, but it felt decidedly off.
Mrs. Jones popped her head out of her apartment, “Listen, girly, if you want to stay up all night fucking that man of yours, I can’t stop you, but smashing the place up is too damn much. Your other friend scared my cats and I won’t be having that!” she shouted at me with a pointed finger aimed in my direction. Her gray hair hung limply around her angry face.
“What do you mean my other friend? I don’t have any other friends.” One of her cats darted to freedom, and I bent to scoop him up. I handed him back to her without thanks.
“That’s not what he said,” she disagreed.
“Someone was here, and you spoke to him?” A sickening chill raced up and down my spine.
“Get inside and when I knock you better answer,” Mason seethed. Mrs. Jones opened her mouth to argue but withered beneath his hard stare. She nodded her head as she stepped back and shut the door. His hands gripped my cheeks, his green eyes met my brown ones with a silent plea, “Stay behind me,” his rough command didn’t match the begging in his gaze. He dropped his hands and turned, pulling a gun out of his waistband.How the fuck did I miss that?
He threw the door open without resistance.I locked that.The sight of my apartment stopped me dead. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. All of my things were flipped, broken, or smashed, but most concerning of all were the giant red letters painted angrily across the wall:Whore.