Page 7 of Irrevocably

I’m still thinking about that when a familiar prickling sensation creeps over the back of my neck. Shit, am I being watched again? I turn sharply to find a man standing about a foot behind me, towering over me. Shock washes like a wave over and I give a soundless gasp, stumbling back.

It’s the guy who ran into me earlier today and who stared at me in the library. Black hair. Blue eyes. Tattoos…

Run away. Run fast. Run far.

For a second I debate doing just that, but as the shock of his sudden appearance begins to dissipate, I come to my senses and shove my insane flight instinct away. Okay, so sure, he’s got kind of a scary aura, but I’m on a beach full of people. It’s not as if I’m alone. Anyway, I’m not a coward and I’m not going to let a guy covered in tattoos intimidate me, no matter how tall or hot he is.

“Not you again.” I lift my chin and meet his cold gaze head-on. “Are you following me?”

“What would you say if I was?” His voice is as cold as the ocean behind me.

“I’d say you’re a fucking creep and leave me alone.”

He takes a step closer to me, then stops, which is good because there’s nothing but sea at my back. He’s in the same black jeans and hoodie he was in earlier today, and his only concession to the shitty weather is a worn black leather jacket over the top.

“Relax,” he says. “I only want to ask you a couple of questions.”

I wrap my jacket more firmly around me as the wind catches my hair, tossing it around my head. I can’t think of what he’d want to ask me, not when I don’t know him from a bar of soap. “Why?” I ask suspiciously. “What questions?”

He ignores me. “What do you know about the Hellhounds?”

The Hellhounds? Why does he want to know about them? And why the hell is he asking me? I blink, caught off-guard. Then I narrow my gaze, scanning him. He’s not an MC member, that’s for sure, because if he was, he’d be wearing his cut, and again, why is he asking me?

“Nothing,” I say shortly. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Lucien. And I don’t think you know nothing.” One black brow rises. “You’re friends with one of them, aren’t you?”

Something cold whispers through me, and it’s not the wind. How does he know that I’m friends with Wolf?

“No,” I lie. “I’ve got nothing to do with them.”

“If that’s the case, then why were you talking to one of their enforcers just before?” He strolls toward me, taking his time, oddly graceful and not a little predatory. “I saw you, you know. He gave you a hug.”

I’m backing away before I can stop myself, my sneakers sinking in the soft, damp sand as I try to put some distance between us. I’m even colder now, and my brain is screaming louder. This guy is a threat, because if he’s been watching me from the darkness, whatever he wants it can’t be good.

Today has been awful and I’m tired. I don’t want to be here, and the last thing I need is some creep startling me then getting up in my grille about my best friend’s club. So, I stop backing away and hold my ground, but now his huge, muscled form is towering over me, that dark aura of his engulfing me. The threat of violence glitters in his cold eyes, and I know on some basic level that if I don’t give him what he wants, he’ll hurt me.

Let him, some part of me thinks. I’m not afraid of pain. Pain has always made things better anyway.

“He’s some guy I went to high school with,” I say, digging my heels into the sand. “I haven’t seen him in ages, and we were just catching up.”

The man’s eyes narrow into thin slits of sapphire as he stares down at me, the sharpness of his gaze stripping away my skin, my flesh, all the way down to my skull and into the grey matter of my brain.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmurs, clear and cold as a glacier. “I know where you live, Astrid Starling.”

Shock freezes my blood. He knows where I live? What? And how does he know my name? Maybe he found that out when he came to return my phone, but surely no one would have given him my address. He’s bluffing to intimidate me, that’s what he’s doing.

“No, you don’t,” I say flatly.

“Oh, really? Your garden is overgrown and the white fence pickets could use a repaint.”

The fear coils deeper in me and he must be able to see it on my face, because one corner of his hard mouth curves slightly, as if he’s scored a point.

It makes me angry. I was always smaller than everyone at school, and because I was quiet and shy, and I loved reading, I used to get bullied. At least until Wolf became my friend, and then everyone left me alone.

But Wolf isn’t here now. He’s gone somewhere with his friends, and even if he was here, with that music going, he wouldn’t hear me scream. No one will.

There’s just me and this man who’s trying to intimidate me into answering his dumb questions. But I’m not seven anymore. I’m the chief of police’s daughter, goddammit.