Page 3

Chapter 3

Ranen

“ W hat is this?” I ask again, more to myself than anything. Someone has a sick sense of humor.

But what I find in the box isn’t funny.

It’s a photo album that’s titled, “The Life of Ranen.” What the fuck?

With shaky hands, I reach into the box and pull out the album. The live feed for tonight’s cam session is long forgotten as I flip it open. In the first photo, I’m wearing a pair of blue joggers and a tight black shirt I’d worn last week—the day before my disastrous cam session. The next picture is me at the grocery store the next day, pulling down a can of tomato soup.

I was obviously oblivious to the photos being taken. Someone is stalking me. I had a feeling that was the case, but I didn’t have concrete proof. This is it. This is what I need to take to the cops so they can do… something.

I look back up to my session just in time to catch someone in my room. Someone in my room? What the fuck?

The intruder has a mask on, so I can’t see his face. All I can make out is the brown of his eyes and what I think is tan flesh before he leaps at me.

I try to scurry back, to get away from him, but he’s too fast. When I turn, trying to reach my window so I can climb down the fire escape, the intruder grabs me by the hair and slings me back across the room. I bang into the wall by my bed and land on the floor in a heap. I hold my wrist that took the brunt of my fall, but still try to scramble away.

I manage to clamber over the bed, and I’m almost to the door but the assailant grabs me again, and with a hand around my throat, slams me onto the bed. The man straddles my chest and pulls his balled up fist back as if to strike me.

To protect my face from any hits, I throw up my arms, trying to fend him off, but he swipes my hands away like it’s nothing, landing a good shot directly to my nose. A sharp cry rips from me just before another hit lands, this time to my mouth. My lips throb and blood coats my tongue.

Even though I’m hurting, I try to fight. My fists land a few times against flesh, but I’m not sure if I hit anything vital. My strikes aren’t very powerful and the man resting practically on my chest is strong.

Punches rain down on me—my face, throat, chest. Anywhere this man can reach, he hits. Blood leaks from my mouth and nose, the hot liquid staining my face and pooling under me. I feel my nose crack and I shout in pain. A backhand lands across my face, and my head snaps to the right… and I’m staring at my live feed.

Yes! My subs can see this! They can help me. I’m not completely helpless. I look over at the camera, hoping my subs don’t think this is some kind of elaborate hoax, and say, “Help! I live—”

The man plants one hand over my mouth and the other at my throat, cutting off my airway. I struggle against his hold, looking at him with wide eyes. Even though I’m hitting him and fighting back as hard as I can, nothing is affecting this man who’s attacking me.

Who is he? Why is he doing this? I don’t think I have any enemies, or that I’ve offended anyone. So why me? What could I have done that’s so bad someone wants to hurt me, attack me in my own home?

Could it have something to do with that bear? I’ve been getting shitty notes, but the bear and the photo album are the first packages I’ve received. Why is he toying with me?

Though I’m trying to fight my way out of this, my vision fuzzes out, going black at the edges. My eyes bulge even more and I try to plead with my attacker with my gaze. Please. I don’t want to die. Not here. Not yet. I still have so much to do.

Almost as if he hears my mental pleading, the pressure leaves my throat and my chest. I take greedy pulls of air, though I have to fight to hang on to consciousness. It’s made even worse because of the coughing fit I’m having. I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs.

The man looks back at the door, then hops off the bed and runs to my window. He throws it open and climbs out onto the fire escape.

I should be thrilled that I’m safe—that I’m alive—but I can’t move. My vision is still darkening, as if he succeeded in my demise and I’m a spectator to my death.

My eyelids feel heavy, like there are ten pound weights dragging them down, and something tickles my face, but I can’t raise my arms to swat it away. I can’t move anything but my eyes as I blink slowly, and my chest as it rises and falls with my breathing. Breathing that’s too slow and shallow to be healthy.

My body, which was just in tremendous pain, feels light and airy, as if I could float away. Maybe I can close my eyes for a bit… just for a little while. I won’t be in pain if I sleep.

As if from far away, I hear my bedroom door open again. My heart seizes up, and I know it’s my attacker coming back to finish the job. I should have closed my eyes when I had the chance—played dead so he’d leave me alone—but it’s too late for that.

Blue-green eyes enter my field of vision. Not the brown eyes of the man who tried to choke me to death. I can tell it’s not the same man. What does this one want? Is he here to finish me off? Are they a duo who tag team to commit murder?

He tilts his head to the side, pushing the hair back from my face.

“Please,” I whisper, my eyes drooping even lower. “Don’t… hurt me… anymore.”

A deep rumbling voice says, “I won’t hurt you, Ranen.”

I wish I could believe that. I wish I could trust the word of a stranger, but a stranger just tried to kill me.

At his words, my vision flickers in and out, my memory kind of hazy. I feel myself being lifted from the bed. Then the motion of a car speeding down the road. When I come to next, I’m inside a brightly lit room, strong hands cradling me to their chest. I hear shouting, a tug of war going on with my savior and someone else pulling at me roughly.

Then nothing. I fall into the realm of tiredness, everything blissfully quiet and where no more pain can reach me.

My head is pounding. The throbbing is all-consuming, pulsing to the beat of my heart. I try to raise a hand to touch it, but my arm feels like it weighs fifty pounds.

With great effort, I drag my eyes open, then shut them immediately. The bright white room almost singes my retinas. I count to ten, then try again.

This time, it’s easier to look at my surroundings.

I’m in a hospital. Looking down, I see an IV in my arm and a pulse oximeter on my left index finger. A blood-pressure cuff puffs up on my arm and I groan, the tightening of the cuff making my head throb anew.

What the fuck? Why am I here? What happened?

“How do you feel?” a soft but deep voice says.

I can’t help it—I scream. I scream and throw my weighted hands up, trying to cover my face and protect myself from blows.

“Hey, hey!” the man shouts. I tremble, tears rolling down my cheeks as I slide away from him. My body feels like a big bruise, but I need to get away. For some reason, I’m afraid.

Rough but gentle hands pull my arms from my face, and I’m met with blue-green eyes. Blue-green, not brown. Why do brown eyes—

As if waiting for me to search for them, the memories come rushing back to me. The package I thought was a toy from my wish list, the creepy photo album, the masked man that entered my room and attacked me, and the beating… God, the beating. It was bad. Really bad. Probably why I feel like a bullet train has run me over.

Brown eyes were the only identifying marker of the man that attacked me. Not blue-green. No, blue-green means help. It means safety.

Who is this man?

I look him over, and even though I feel like I’m on death’s door, I can appreciate how handsome he is. His dark hair is longer at the top and cut close on the sides. Some of it hangs in his face, and my fingers do this funny twitching thing, as if they want to reach out and push it back.

Tattoos peek out from under his shirt and on the parts of his skin I can see. He’s a lot bigger than the man who landed me here. It’s not him. Not the man with brown eyes who almost killed me.

Slowly, I lower my hands. The man looks at me with the same tilt of his head that he did before I passed out in my apartment. His eyes bore into me, like he’s trying to memorize me or something. It’s as uncomfortable as it is flattering.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

He’s quiet for a few beats, just studying me. Christ, he’s handsome. Almost as if he isn’t real. I want to reach out and touch him, to verify he is in fact an actual person and I’m not just conjuring up my dream man while in the throes of death.

“I’m North,” he says matter-of-factly, as if I should have known that.

After settling my hands back down, he reaches up almost hesitantly, dragging a finger over my face. The small amount of pressure, light as it is, still stings. But I don’t dare move. His touch feels… good. Really fucking good. No one has touched me like this in ages.

I don’t count creepy Mr. Barlowe touching my face.

North’s fingers trailing over my throbbing lips, my sore cheeks, and under my swollen eye has my heart fluttering. I open my mouth, trying to draw in a full breath. Why does his touch feel like heaven?

I fight to keep my eyes from fluttering closed as he touches me, and I have to tamp down the groan of disapproval when he drops his hand.

With a grin, he says, “You’re pretty banged up, Ranen.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Your ID.” He points to the messenger bag I keep my wallet, keys, and iPad in.

Duh. My brain isn’t working as it should. Of course he grabbed my bag, so he could have my information.

“Okay, North. How did you find me?”

“Your door was open,” he says.

My eyebrows scrunch and I wince. I raise a hand to my head and feel a row of stitches just at my hairline. Frowning must have pulled at them. “Fuck. What happened?”

North slides his chair closer to the bed. He looks as if he’s going to take my hand, but he rests it on the sheet instead. “Someone attacked you. I’m not sure who. I was checking out the building for a job, and I heard your screams and rushed over. Your door was open, so I let myself in. I must have scared the guy off because he wasn’t there when I got to your room, but your window was wide open.” I nod, but that rattles my brain and I wince again. “Careful now,” North admonishes.

I raise a hand to my forehead and rub it gently. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

“I told you, I heard your screams.” North meets my eyes evenly. I believe him, but there’s something he’s not telling me. I’m not sure how I know—the man is a total stranger to me—but I can feel it. But I’m in too much pain to get into that now.

Trying to smile—though I’m sure it’s more a baring of teeth with swollen lips—I murmur, “Thank you. For helping me. I felt like I was dying.”

His lips twitch as he says, “Not quite.”

We’re quiet for a few beats, just staring at each other. Then, as if my mouth has a mind of its own, I whisper, “I’m scared to go back home, North. What if he comes back? I thought I knew how to protect myself, but…”

North leans forward, his hand just millimeters from mine. “I can check your place when you get out of here. Make sure your locks are secure and all that. And I can teach you some self defense moves. Some real shit, not that crap they teach in those classes.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask how he knows I went to self-defense classes, but I figure they’re something most people in Red Hill have started taking. My class alone had forty people in it. People are afraid of whoever is snatching people in our community.

Instead, I ask, “Why would you want to do that? You don’t know me.”

He shrugs. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but a sharp gasp turns my attention to the door. Olly is standing there, tears in his eyes as he looks me over. “Oh, God, Ranen.” He rushes to me, sitting on the bed and pulling me into his arms. “Jesus, who did this?”

I shrug, wrapping my arms around him. It hurts. Hell, everything hurts, but it’s nice to have my best friend here. North is a handsome distraction, but it feels good to have someone here who I know, who I trust.

“I don’t know. They broke in and…” My bottom lip trembles as I think about my ordeal. Whoever attacked me hurt me badly.

Sighing sadly, Olly kisses the top of my head. “It’s okay, love. I’m so sorry this happened. I got tons of messages from our mutual subs while I was doing my scene. I rushed to your place and didn’t find you, so I tried here.”

Olly and I have done joint jerk-off scenes before, though we don’t touch each other, and our combined scenes gave us crossover subs, so it makes sense that one of them gave Olly the heads-up on what happened.

“You’ll come home with me,” he says fiercely. “I’ll look after you. I have a gun. No one will hurt you, I promise.”

“I can take care of him.” I almost forgot North was even in the room, so stuck in the warmth and safety of Olly.

A shiver rolls through my body at the sound of his voice. I’m not sure why, but North is doing things to me. Things I shouldn’t be thinking after I was almost killed.

Maybe that’s why I have feelings for him. I almost died. I could have been wiped off the face of the earth. So why not allow whatever is happening to happen?

I look up at Olly in time to see his eyes narrow as he looks at North. That’s different. North is just Olly’s and my type—muscled, tatted, and handsome.

But from the way he’s looking at him now, you’d think he was his worst enemy. “Who are you?” Olly’s voice drips with disdain, a tone I’ve never heard from him. He’s usually so friendly and happy. I know it’s just his worry about me coming through, though, so I don’t admonish him. If the shoe were on the other foot, I’d give some random man who was in his hospital room the side-eye and a whole lot of attitude.

North raises an eyebrow—making him look sexier if that’s possible—but he answers Olly smoothly. “I found Ranen. Got him to the hospital after he passed out.”

It doesn’t escape my notice that North didn’t give his name.

Olly’s expression smoothes out, but only a little. “I owe you a thanks for saving my best friend then. But he’s coming home with me. He’s not safe there.”

“He will be,” North answers smoothly. “I’ll make sure of it.”