Through Her Eyes (5 page)

She clasped her arms and legs around him, laughing and
panting for air.
"Again?
Already?" she
teased.

He lifted his head, gave one last, soft pump of his
hips, and kissed her lips gently. "Give me five minutes."

Chapter Six

They showered together afterwards, Dom taking care to
soap every inch of her, then drying her off with an intense attention that
Keira found as arousing as anything else he'd done to her. He stood behind her,
his cock hard and ready against her ass as he dried her hair. They went back to
the bedroom with every intention of getting filthy all over again.

Before they could do more than fall on the bed,
however, Dom's phone started ringing. He swore, rubbing his forehead.
"What timing."

"Can't you ignore it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "That's my work phone.
Something's happened."

Fear shot through her. She'd managed to forget the
Slasher in Dom's arms, but now he rushed to the front of her mind again.
"Another murder?"
Her voice trembled.

"I don't know, love." He kissed her and went
to answer. Keira sat on the bed, hugging her knees and feeling oddly
vulnerable. When he returned, his face was black as thunder. She jumped up and
went to him. He folded his arms around her, holding her tightly. "I have
to go."

"It's him, isn't it?"

"We don't know. It might be something, it might
be nothing. But I have to follow it up." He squeezed her and kissed her
hair. "You'll be alright, yeah? I won't be long."

What could she say? She couldn't stop him, didn't have
the right to say, "No, stay with me." She pasted on a smile.
"I'll be fine. Go and do your job."

Dom didn't look happy as he left, but he said nothing.
Keira made sure the front and back doors were locked after he was gone. Then,
unsure of what else to do, she went to bed to wait for Dom to come back.

****

She thought she'd struggle to sleep, that fear of
another OBE, another murder would keep her awake.
But tucked
up in Dom's bed, with the smell of him rich on the pillows, she fell asleep
just as easily as she had on his sofa.
She didn't dream.

She couldn't say what woke her.
A
noise, a smell, some instinct...something.

In the heavy darkness of Dom’s bedroom, Keira listened
to her own breathing echo in her ears – and someone else’s.

A fine, electric thread of terror wove through her.
The same instinct that jerked her awake urged her now to flee, triggered some
deep, primitive part of her. But she didn’t dare move, didn’t dare give herself
away. She lay still, holding her breath, listening to the soft, steady
breathing of the other person in the room. He sounded close – by the window?
By the wardrobe?
She’d have to raise her head to check and
she couldn’t.

Now would be a great time to be able to escape her
body.

“I know you’re awake."

The voice was low, rough, sending hot flashes through
Keira. She’d never heard his voice – he’d never said a word when he was
attacking her six years ago, but with the same intuition that had taken her to his
house this morning, she knew,
knew
,
it was him.
The Shoreditch Slasher.

“I always knew I’d find you again. I knew you were
watching me.”

Before she could react, he was on her, pinning her to
the bed with his weight. She tried to cry out, but his hand gripped her throat,
choking the air from her. He forced her onto her back, knees on either side of
her hips to keep her in place, and loomed over her. It was a grim parody of the
way Dom had held her earlier and the thought made her want to vomit. He wore the
balaclava she remembered so well, hiding his face completely, but she
knew
him, would always know him, until her dying breath.

“Did you like it? Did it get you off, seeing what I
did?” he asked her, voice heavy with lust and menace. “Did you miss me, Keira
Swanson?”

She tried to thrash, to kick out, but her vision was
already fading in and out, red sparks flashing before her eyes as he throttled
her. Panic swamped her. If she could scream...if she could just fight
back...even for a second...but there was nobody to hear.

She knew what he’d
do,
remembered every second of his first attack on her, saw every second of his
attacks on all the others. He’d choke her until she was nearly unconscious,
then
reach for the blade. Desperation filled her and she
clawed at his face, her nails snagging in his mask.

He growled and swiped at her with his free hand, but
the motion unbalanced him enough for Keira to twist her hips, wobble him a
little. He loosened his hold on her throat and she sucked in a deep, beautiful
breath before lashing out again. She scraped her nails across his face,
catching the exposed skin around his eyes. He grunted, drove his fist into her
ribs. Pain cracked through her and she managed to cry out before he slapped her
and grabbed her throat again. She clasped his thick forearm, trying to sink her
nails in or pry him off, but she was already weak, and he was so damn strong. A
sick swirl of nightmare memories clouded her vision.

As her sight faded, so did her panic, an eerie sense
of calm replacing
it.
She felt light, drifty, and
loose. She was leaving her body, she realized, and it was a relief. Her earlier
worries about being caught in limbo were distant now, nothing compared to the
reality of dying. Surely this was better, more peaceful?

A slam and a howl of pain pulled her back into her
body hard and fast. Dizziness and sickness gripped her as the Slasher slumped
down on her, smothering her. But he released her throat, and Keira sobbed and
gasped as she fought to push his dead weight off her. Something wet and warm
flowed over her hands as she pushed at him. It dawned on her that it was blood.

“Keira!”
Dom’s voice chased away some of
her dizziness, giving her something to cling to. The Slasher’s crushing weight
lifted as Dom heaved him aside, freeing her. She lay gasping for air on the
bed, vision still sparking,
throat
tight and raw. Part
of her still wanted to drift away, to deny what was happening – had almost
happened. But then Dom was beside her, gun in one hand, easing her upright with
the other. “It’s alright, love, it’s alright. You’re alright. We got him. We
got the bastard.”

She slumped against him, staring at the silhouette of
the Slasher sprawled on the carpet. Was he dead? She felt like her hands were
drenched in blood, but his chest moved, she was sure of it. She buried her face
in Dom’s shirt, curling up as close to him as she could. He held her tight for
a few minutes,
then
released her carefully. “Are you
okay? Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, massaged her throat. “Just need a
drink,” she croaked.
And to be away from the figure on the
floor.
Far, far away.

****

Twenty minutes later, Dom’s house was swarming with police officers.
Keira sat in the kitchen, nursing a cup of warm milk – no
honey,
Dom didn’t have any – giving a statement to an officer who looked far too young
to be there. Dom was directing traffic in the bedroom. She missed his
reassuring presence acutely, but couldn’t allow herself to focus on that too
much. She was just grateful he'd come home in time. A few minutes later...

She couldn't let herself focus on that either.

She gave her statement the same way she'd told Dylan about the first
attack just two days ago. Keep it simple, keep it quick. There wasn't much to
tell in any case; it all happened so fast, ended so suddenly...

"And you say this is the same man who attacked you six years
ago?" the officer asked, scribbling in his pad.
"The
Shoreditch Slasher?"

She shuddered at his casual use of the nickname. "I'm
positive," she said.
"Absolutely no doubt."

He smiled at her, patting her hand. "You must be the luckiest woman
in London."

She smiled back. She supposed she should feel lucky. Right now she just
felt exhausted.

****

The next morning Keira and Dom stood at King's Cross station, waiting
for her train to arrive. She gripped his hand so hard she was sure it had to be
hurting him, but he didn't complain. She wanted to cling to him forever.

"We'll be in touch," Dom said. "If we nail the bastard,
you'll be called to testify."

"I'll be happy to. I want to see him locked away forever." She
sighed. "I want it to just be over. Everything, I mean."

"I know." He took her hand, squeezed hard. "Hopefully the
OBEs will stop now."

She smiled. "I was never scared of the OBEs, just where they took
me. It might be nice to have some control over them, visit some exotic
locations. Paris, Milan..."

"London?" Dom asked.

"I'd prefer to come in person."

"Keira."
He took her in his
arms,
gazing down at her so seriously it made her heart
race. "I don't want to be calling you professionally. I want..." He
hesitated, seeming to stumble over his words. "You know what I want."

She did. She wanted it too. And there seemed no reason not to have it
anymore. She could start again in London, with him. Lose
herself
in his arms and find herself again. The idea filled her with a glow of
happiness. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, long and soft. He eased his hands
down her back, sliding his fingers inside her jeans to stroke her bare skin.
She shivered and leaned against him, wishing they were somewhere more private.

"Stay," he whispered. "Stay with me. Let me protect you.
From everything."

"I'll come back," she said, drawing away reluctantly. His
words were as warming as his touch. He would protect her, she knew that.
Against anything and everything.
With Dom she would always
be safe.

"You will. You'd better." His tone left her in no doubt that
he'd come and find her if she wasn't.

She smiled as her train pulled in. It was bittersweet to say goodbye,
but she boarded the train feeling so much lighter than she had since...since
she was first attacked. She took her seat and peered out the window, hoping to
see Dom on the platform and wave him goodbye. She felt a pang of disappointment
when she saw he'd already gone...

...Until he threw himself into the seat next to her and pulled her into
his arms with a possessive growl. "No, fuck it. I'm not letting you go.
Not for a second." He kissed her hard, stealing her breath. "Consider
yourself in protective custody."

She laughed, stroking his cheeks and loving the feeling of his stubble
under her fingers. He was hers at last. How could she possibly argue with him?

As the train pulled away, she settled into the circle of his arms,
flushed with both excitement and contentment. It didn't matter where she went
from here. With Dom at her side, she would always be heading home.

The End

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