Page 19 of Beast

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Annika

My pulse raced as Timofey closed the door behind me, closing me off from the strange, messy-haired man who’d abruptly turned away from me. Did he not like me for some reason? Had I offended him somehow? I had been about to say hello and ask his name, but his quick dismissal had stopped me in my tracks. I’d never been brushed aside so rudely before, and I’ll admit it stung.

I had seen the man around the property before, but only from a distance. My curiosity about him had grown over the years, but no matter how hard I tried, I’d never gotten a look at his face. Every time I tried to approach him, he went the other direction. Most of the soldiers were supposed to keep their distance from the females in our family, so I understood his reluctance to let me near him. He was probably afraid he’d be fired. Under the circumstances, it wasn’t unusual that I’d never beencloseto him before, though I’d certainly longed to. I’d never smelled his clean, masculine scent or witnessed the strength in those rock-hard arms, his biceps bulging with muscle as he’d helped Timofey pick up my chair and set me in front of the door. Tall and muscular, though much leaner than the bulky Timofey, the man oozed with strength, competence, and undeniable intrigue. My gaze had caught on his wide, powerful chest encased in a plain black T-shirt that hugged his torso, showcasing muscular pecs and tight abs. My mouth had gone bone-dry.

Though I’d wondered about him often, even fantasized about him a time or two, this was the first time I’dwitnessedup close how truly sexy and purely masculine he was.

Tonight, his presence had slapped me in the face. And left me reeling.

Feeling a little dizzy, I let out a shaky breath. I didn’t even know the man’s name, yet he left me breathless and achy and feeling all sorts of strange and unwanted things.

Racing pulse.

Heated skin.

Strangled breaths.

Okay, truthfully, he’d always made me feel those things—albeit from a distance. Call me obsessed, call me a crazy stalker, but I’d never been so aware of a man before.Ever.And now that I’d been up close and personal with him, my fascination only grew.

I hadn’t even seen his face, just a glimpse of a strong jaw covered with a touch of scruff before he’d jerked away. In all my life, why did just this one man leave me so hot all over? Soawareof him? Was it the mystery of not knowing what he looked like? Or something else? I couldn’t deny my strong pull toward him, though I wasn’t sure what it stemmed from.

Now that I thought about it, I think the man deliberately kept his face averted. For some reason, he didn’twantme to see him.

I inhaled a sharp breath, slowly puffing it back out.

Why? What was he hiding?

An unexpected shiver crept down my spine.

Where before I’d simply watched him from afar, fantasizing about him in all his sexy mysteriousness, now, all of a sudden, I considered him in a different light.

And suddenly, I was thrust back in time to my concert in Chicago five months ago…

With my eyes closed and my body humming with energy, my fingers flew across the piano keyboard, my strokes confident and sure as my music filled the crowded concert hall.

The only time I ever truly let go was at my piano.

I was completely in the zone. Nothing could stop me when I was like this. I lived and breathed my music. It freed me from the nightmares. It filled my soul with pure joy.

The only warning I had of the impending attack was a gasp from the crowd before a hard body slammed into me, knocking me off the piano bench and onto the hard floor of the stage.

Before I could move or catch my breath, a creepy voice whispered in my ear, “Little pig, little pig, I wanna hear you cry.”

A sharp pain pierced my abdomen, sinking deep, then another and another.

Stab. Stab. Stab.

I gasped, my body contorting in pain.

Blinking rapidly, I tried to see my attacker, but was only able to catch a vague impression of a large, muscular body dressed all in black.

I dug my fingernails at the floor, scratching, trying to crawl away.

He stabbed me twice more, in the back this time. Deep, vicious thrusts.

Stab. Stab.

I moaned.


Tags: Leslie Georgeson Romance