Animal Attraction (2 page)

HOME FELT MARGINALLY SAFER, BUT NOT ENOUGH TO BE MUCH COMfort. I stopped inside the entry hall for my mail, inserting my key into the box for my unit. Habit made me scan the envelopes while I stood there. Sure enough, one was for 2C, not 2B. I set it on top of the boxes, the common tenant exchange for misdelivered mail.

I went upstairs to my second-floor door with an uneasy tension between my shoulder blades. Having my own door closed and locked behind me made me feel a little better. Almost getting jumped in a parking lot could really put a girl on edge.

I dropped the mail on my kitchen counter and after scarfing down a quick dinner to satisfy my increasingly demanding metabolism, I went to feed my goldfish, Ernie and Bert. I’d bought the pair and the glass bowl they lived in the week before I found my current job.

According to a book I’d read on feng shui, goldfish in the wealth corner of your home could ease financial troubles. I wondered if there was a feng shui remedy for finding out your job was in gang territory.

Ernie and Bert came to the surface, mouths open, ready for dinner. I sprinkled a pinch of fish food over the water and watched them nibble.

“I made some new friends today,” I told them, thinking of Rhonda, Miguel, and Wilson. And Zach. I wasn’t forgetting Zach. Zach who flirted with me while he made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, who fought off three opponents, at least one of them armed, and told me I should’ve been expecting him.

I was expecting him now. He said he’d been watching me and if I didn’t come to him in three days, he’d come for me. He’d hinted that he knew things about me and my birth family. He was the first lead I’d found in a string of dead ends, and I was curious enough about what he might know to stick around.

“I think one of them wanted to date me,” I added, even though Bert hadn’t asked. “In a stalkerish sort of way.” What kind of guy tells you he’s been watching you and kisses the back of your hand?

I looked around the apartment. It was decorated in modern bland. Light gray carpet, beige walls, white blinds over the windows. Matching vertical blinds covered a sliding glass door to a postage-stamp-sized balcony. I kept a stick in the door so it couldn’t be opened from the outside if somebody managed to climb to the second floor. Which was unlikely. But meeting my new friends made me nervous enough to go check to make sure the door was still secure.

With the exception of the goldfish, I hadn’t done much to personalize the neutral décor. I had a futon in the living room that did double duty as sofa and bed, a bookcase that housed my DVD collection, and a small TV set.

For some reason, the look of the apartment bothered me today. I frowned and looked closer, wondering if something was out of place. If something was, I couldn’t tell.

Maybe I was just seeing it the way a stranger would and I didn’t like what it said about me. Bland and utilitarian, not much in the way of personality, more of a waiting station than a home.

Of course, it pretty much 
was
 
a waiting station. I’d graduated college a year early, and now I was circulating my résumé in search of a real job. So far I’d had two offers, both of which would have meant relocating to the West Coast. Nice, but I didn’t want to leave Virginia.

Fairfax County not only offered easy access to mountains and beaches; it also was home to six Fortune 500 companies. The combination of career and recreation opportunities was hard to beat. Most of all, I hoped that if I stayed where I’d been born and raised, someday I’d find out who my birth parents were. Or at least get the answers to some of my questions.

So, if I was so set on staying, why did everything in my life look so temporary?

“I’m young,” I said out loud. “You’re not supposed to be settled at my age. You’re supposed to dress and live like you just got out of college, where you mortgaged your soul to student loans.”

Bert and Ernie swam around agreeably. Fish make such nice roommates. They listen and they don’t argue.

The light on my answering machine was blinking, so I hit Play.

“Hi, it’s Michelle. I have some of your mail. I’m holding it hostage until you call me. I haven’t seen you since your birthday.” There was a short pause on the machine before she continued, “I hope you’re okay. Your nightmares sound like they’re getting worse.”

The sound of my friend’s voice made my stomach tighten. I’d been avoiding everybody. Apparently Michelle had noticed. She also lived in the apartment below mine. If she was hearing more nocturnal noise, then it wasn’t my imagination. The night terrors that had been a recurring problem since adolescence were now nightly.

In pretty much every way, I’d taken a turn for the worse after my twenty-first birthday two weeks earlier. My metabolism was off the charts. Sounds, smells and tastes I’d been sensitive to before were now unbearable. Everything set me off. But what could I say? 
Sorry, Michelle, I can’t get together because your perfume makes me feel like I’m suffocating from one floor away?

My mind drifted back to Zach and his odd question.
Do you dream of us?
 
It’d be nice to have an explanation for my bad nights and the bruises I kept waking up with, but since I’d just met him, Zach couldn’t possibly be the cause.

I did wonder what kind of group “us” included. Not the trio he’d fought off in the parking lot. But some group. It wasn’t just Zach who was expecting me to show up in three days. It seemed like too much to hope that “us” might mean the family I knew nothing about. But the fragile hope rose anyway, tempered by a deep measure of caution.

I didn’t know anything about my heritage. I knew next to nothing about Zach. And given the way we’d met and the things he’d said, I had plenty of reasons to proceed with caution if I did go to meet him.

Although I couldn’t imagine where he thought I’d go even if I wanted to. The place in my dreams? Please. That had to be a line. Except he’d seemed serious when he said it.

Tired of my thoughts spinning like a hamster on a wheel, I told myself to forget Zach. Even if he was going to show up here looking for me, it wouldn’t be tonight. The moon wasn’t full.

When I woke up, I realized three things. I felt a cold draft coming from an open window, I ached in several places, and a strange man was holding me in a sort of bear hug. His hands pinned my wrists crossed in front of my chest and his legs trapped mine.

The hair at the back of my neck stirred and gooseflesh marched over my skin. Zach was my first suspect, but the man behind me didn’t match my memory of his build or scent. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer that it wasn’t Miguel or Wilson.

“Hello,” I said cautiously. My voice sounded hoarse, as if I’d been yelling. “If you’re here to rob me, I’m broke and I don’t have any drugs.”

“I’m not here to rob you. I’m here to babysit you,” the man behind me said. He sounded pissed off about it.

The various aches I felt reminded me of the aftermath of a hard sparring session. I tried to stretch, but Mystery Man held me firmly in place.

“Would you let go, please?” Now that I was awake, I really wanted my personal space. And then I wanted to know who he was and how he’d gotten inside.

“So you can try to break my jaw again? No.”

He 
was
 
pissed. But if I’d succeeded he wouldn’t be talking, so I didn’t think he was hurt. “Were we fighting?” I asked.

“You were fighting. I was defending myself.” His grip tightened as if in silent warning that he wasn’t about to let up.

I guessed he’d come in during one of my bouts of night terrors and I’d fought with him without waking up. “This is my apartment and I didn’t invite you in,” I pointed out.

“Good thing I’m not a vampire,” my uninvited guest said. “I figured you were screaming because you had a problem, so I didn’t wait for permission.”

I wanted to ask if Zach had sent him to keep an eye on me. Not that I’d count him as one of the good guys if he said yes, but it would mean he wasn’t one of the panthers. Whoever they were. I didn’t ask because if he was on the other side, mentioning Zach might make him more pissed off. And tempted to take it out on me.

So I stayed quiet, feeling the tension build until my skin was practically crawling with it. My heart seemed to beat faster every second and I fought to control my breathing, trying to slow it down and pretend a measure of calm.

After what felt like eternity but must’ve been less than a minute, he let out a growling sound of frustration that would have frozen me if I wasn’t paralyzed already. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Right.” My tight voice said plainly what I really thought.

“I’m not going to let go of you, either. You fight dirty.”

That sounded like a grudging compliment.

“Kenp
,” I said. “The fight is over when your opponent is unable to continue.”

“Smart.” His approving tone made my brows raise.

I wondered how long we were going to stay like this. It was almost a parody of lovers spooning. I didn’t think I could break his hold and get free long enough to call 911, and even if I did, he’d have me at his mercy again before I completed the call, let alone before help arrived.

I hoped he really was there to babysit me. It didn’t seem reasonable that he’d just restrain me otherwise. He could have tied me up, stolen my goldfish, murdered me.

Maybe he could be reasoned with. “You can let go of me now. I promise not to hit you.” 
Unless you deserve it
.

He didn’t answer. I tried to wiggle out of his hold, and his grip tightened.

“This has been a very strange day,” I said. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want from me?”

“What I want?” His low, rough voice had an odd tone to it. His hold didn’t change and he didn’t move, but something shifted. The word 
want
 
seemed to echo in my head, taking on intent with each repetition.

My heartbeat thumped louder. I wished I’d kept my damn mouth shut.

“Now you’re afraid.” He seemed to find that funny.

Great. Alone with a sadistic stranger. Who was holding me. On what served as my bed.

“What I want is a kiss.” His voice sounded as dark as the night.

I gulped and the sound was far too audible.

“You kissed Zach. Fair’s fair.” His voice traveled down my spine, leaving a wake of hyperalert tension behind.

“He kissed me,” I corrected through frozen lips. And how the hell did he know about that?

Something familiar registered, the distinctive smell of leather. He was wearing a leather jacket. Had he bought it from me? Could I identify him if I saw him?

The leather creaked as he shifted. His lips touched my temple and I stopped breathing. His hands holding mine prisoner suddenly seemed unbearably intimate. If he moved his hands just a little he’d be touching my breasts. The sweats I wore didn’t seem like much of a barrier. They were loose and easily pushed aside.

“Turn your face,” he said.

If I turned my head toward his, our lips could touch. If I kissed him, would he let me go? Would it distract him and give me an opportunity to get the upper hand, or at least get away?

Thoughts racing faster than my heart, I angled my jaw to bring our mouths within meeting range. Then heat seared my mouth as he claimed it with his.

It wasn’t the brief taste of a kiss Zach had given me. It was hard, hot, and hungry. Terror gave it an adrenaline-packed intensity, sending blood thundering through my veins until I thought my heart would explode in my chest. When he tried to deepen the kiss I kept my mouth stubbornly closed while he licked at the seam of my sealed lips. He growled in frustration. “Open.”

“No.” The denial was automatic, and as stupid as it was useless. His tongue took the opening I gave him as he turned me toward him, pushing my arms behind my back, where he kept them pinned.

The kiss was dominating, devastating, and I had no way to defend against it. I fell into it as something inside me woke up and welcomed the brutal eroticism that was both combative and seductive. His legs kept mine in a tight scissor grip. He wasn’t lowering his guard. The respect that implied pleased me. He seriously thought I could give him some difficulty if he gave me an opening?

His body pressed into mine. His scent mingled with leather filled my senses. The gooseflesh marched impossibly under my skin, ran along my nerves, fired an urgent message through muscle and blood until I trembled with the need to respond in some deeper, instinctual way that went beyond my experience. I felt light, as if all the oxygen were leaving my body, and went limp. He raised his head, breaking the kiss. I drew in shuddering, gulping breaths, not caring if I sounded like a marathoner on the twentieth mile while he seemed completely unmoved. I needed air.