Chapter 7

Nora’s POV

The killer from that day. Did he actually follow me here? Did he—

“Oh, fuck, you really came for me!” The girl, Athena from earlier squealed, rushing over to loop her arms around his neck.

That’s when I saw it. Dark, heavy tattoos crawled down the sleeves of his black top, snaking all the way from his forearms down past his knuckles. Why on earth did he have so much ink?

I forced my gaze up to his face, finding his brows raised as he looked right at me. I blinked hard, brushing past him toward the hallway. Whatever urge I’d had to use the restroom completely vanished.

I just stood in front of the sink, staring blankly at my own reflection. He came for them, right? He just happens to run in the same social circle as Matilda?

My plan is simple: walk back out, grab my bag and phone, and get the hell away from this house. If these people knew him, this guy must be a student at Jude’s, too. I just needed to make sure our paths never, ever crossed again.

Breathing in and out to steady my nerves, I stepped back out into the noise.

“Hey there, beauty,” a slurred voice muttered as a heavy, reeking hand grabbed my wrist.

I jerked my arm out of his grasp and hurried past, my heart pounding. When I reached the main room again, I saw that same brunette girl sitting directly in the lap of the dangerous stranger, both of them locked in a heavy make-out session.

Good. At least he was occupied so I could make my exit. Though, I had to admit, his lips looked entirely too good for a girl like her. Wait, what am I even thinking?

I blinked rapidly, noticing that Matilda’s entire demeanor had shifted. The usual vibrant, outspoken energy she carried was gone, replaced by something cold and tense.

“I’m leaving,” I whispered, leaning down close to her ear. She blinked, snapping out of her daze, and frowned. “Why?”

I glanced back toward the couch where the guy, was still kissing the brunette.

“It’s him. The guy I told you about.” Matilda’s eyes widened slightly. She turned and scanned the crowded room until her gaze locked onto him.

“Knox?” I frowned. Knox? Is that his name?

“Yeah, him. I’m out of here. Meet you back at the apartment,” I said, reaching down to grab my bag and phone as I stood up.

“Where’s your little non-straight friend heading Running off already?” a sharp voice called out.

I froze and glanced back. The brunette wasn't kissing Knox anymore; she was staring right at me with a nasty smirk.

“Somewhere that’s none of your fucking business,” Matilda snapped, glaring daggers at her.

I noticed the brunette roll her eyes, casually taking a sip from her cup.

“Don’t you think we have some unfinished business to discuss?” The deep, gravelly voice cut through the ambient noise like a knife.

My head snapped up. Knox was staring straight at me. Across the room, Athena’s face dropped into a deep, jealous frown, while Matilda’s eyes darted between us.

“I—I don’t—” I stammered, instantly cursing myself for stuttering as the surrounding group stared at me like I’d just grown a second head.

“What business?” Matilda interrupted, casually sipping her drink, though her eyes were narrowed and hostile. “You mean her seeing you that night?”

He didn't even bother glancing at her. “Are you her designated mouthpiece? If not, shut the fuck up.” He stood up to his full height. He was terrifyingly tall, with broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, and a mess of facial piercings catching the dim party lights.

He started walking straight toward me. My instincts screamed, and I instinctively took a step back.

“You told your bitchy roomie, huh?” he muttered, closing the distance.

His grey eyes swept over me from head to toe in a slow, predatory appraisal that made my skin crawl. Before I could back away another inch, his hand shot out, wrapping in an unbreakable iron grip around my wrist.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re dragging her?” Matilda demanded, jumping up to grab my other arm.

He turned his head slowly, fixing Matilda with a bored, deadpan stare. His eyes drifted down to her hand clamped around my wrist, flicked back to my panicked face, and then to Matilda’s furious expression.

“Let go of her,” he commanded, his voice carrying an absolute, unyielding authority. A frown knitted across my brow. Who does this guy think he is, giving orders?

I tried to yank my arm out of his grasp, but my wrist might as well have been locked in a vice. His eyes snapped back to mine, a dark, dangerous smirk playing at the corner of his pierced lips. “You want to test me here?”

Test him on what?! “Nora, don't you dare go anywhere with this psycho,” Matilda warned, pulling hard on my other arm.

I swallowed hard, looking back up at Knox. The metal glinting against his lips made him look even more dangerous—Shut up, Nora, focus!

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered to Matilda, prying her fingers off my arm. I don’t want this unhinged guy causing a scene.

He dragged me outside to the curb, where a massive, roaring sport bike sat parked under the flickering streetlamp.

He unclipped a spare helmet from the handlebars and tossed it at me. I wasn't fast enough to catch it, and it landed squarely on my toe with a sharp thud.

“Ow!” I hissed, dropping into a crouch to clutch my foot.

“Stand the fuck up and stop wincing like a toddler,” he barked. I glanced up at him from the pavement, pouting. It actually stings.  

Sighing, I picked up the helmet and stood back up. I strapped it on, staring down at my outfit. How was I supposed to sit on a motorcycle wearing a micro-mini dress?

Was I supposed to side-saddle it? Before I could figure out my geometry, he straddled the bike, his eyes sweeping lazily down my body. He muttered a low curse under his breath, reached out, grabbed my waist, and hoisted me directly onto the front of the bike, straddling me right against the fuel tank.

The heavy engine roared to life beneath us. His hands locked onto the handlebars while I sat trapped between his chest and the dash, my legs squeezed awkwardly to the right.

He twisted the throttle, and we shot forward like a bullet. The sudden, brutal G-force slammed into me, and I nearly choked on my own spit.

Terrified I was going to fly off and become pavement art, my arms instinctively whipped around his neck, burying my face against him. Not gonna be entirely honest, though, my small, slight frame fit flush against his broad chest a little too well.

As the wind screamed past us, I couldn't help pressing my face closer to the crook of his neck. A rich, instantly recognizable scent hit my senses. Tom Ford. I’d know that expensive, intoxicating cologne anywhere.

If this guy had just been a normal, ordinary college student, I’d be thinking he was entirely my type.