Page 98 of Beneath the Light of the Moon

Even then, his numerous visits didn’t give him the same edge. Out of spite, Anika had rearranged her furniture slightly since he’d showered here to throw him off.

Padding into the foyer, she aimed to slink up the stairs so she could retrieve her gun tucked inside the safe near her bed. But something stopped her. The windows outlining her front door glowed.

Anika’s brows rose.

Pressing her back to the wall, she inched closer, careful not to trip on a pair of shoes placed in the entry. Her movements were sure and soundless, eyes catching on the street lamp across the way from her house. Within the shadowed recesses of her home, the defiant source of light made her realizeherpower outage was an isolated event. If the storm was the cause of this, the whole street would be out.

“I swear to—” The sound of a door creaking open across her house halted her frustrated curses. Frozen, Anika flicked her gaze back down the hall in front of her, breath shallow as she listened.

A footstep.

The sound of her backdoorsnickingshut.

Another footstep.

Ithadto be Mikko. No one else would be bold enough to cut herpower and slip inside the privacy of her home. His message on her flowers was clear.

Moving about a foot to the right, Anika pressed herself up against the solid wood of the door lest her silhouette be seen against the windows. The ridges of her spine notched against the molding as she leaned into it, cloaked by its shadowed frame. Her mind calculated how long it would take for her to dash up the steps nearby, grab her gun, and meet the intruder with her weapon.

Anika’s throat tightened, brain trying to stay calm and logical. She’d had plenty of years to practice—to hone her emotions into what she needed to survive—but there was still a small piece of her that remembered what happened when she was thirteen.

That home invasion had been one that had changed the trajectory of her life.Only this time she could fight and claw and scream. She had nothing to lose now.

More footsteps faintly echoed through her house, their origin on the opposite end and ascending the small set of steps leading into her kitchen. Without wasting another second, she dashed upstairs, avoiding all the creaking planks as she went. Her bare feet were nearly silent on the hardwoods, her gun safe greeting her as soon as she entered her room. Typing in the code, Anika’s thoughts only calmed when the cool kiss of the gun was securely in her hand.

Would she now meet him on the stairs?

Only one way to find out.

Against her better judgment, she walked back the way she came, waiting to see his silhouette composed of shadow and molten viridescent eyes. Her breaths shortened, her eyes focusing on the stretch of steps leading down and to the front door she’d been pressed against. Slowly, she descended. There was no escaping Mikko, so she might as well meet him head on.

Step by step she made progress, expecting his head to appearbetween the wooden balusters at any minute. Her gun was pointed down, but both hands gripped it, her body ready to aim and shoot when the time came.

Down, down, down she went until finally her foot touched the wooden floor of the foyer once more.

A scuff of a boot on her floor had her eyes snapping up toward the hall, her gun following in suit. Mikko’s frame filled the doorway before her, the image uncannily similar to the one he’d sent her a week ago. He lurked inside the short hall, about ten feet separating them still.

Come on,she taunted internally.

As if hearing her silent mocking, his boot crossed over and into the dim light. The windows surrounding her door provided enough to see by, her eyes already adjusted courtesy of her cut power.

Recklessness flowed through her veins, the promise of a game whispering in the back of her mind. She could pop off a shot and wound Mikko, which would give her enough time to fling herself through the front door. She didn’t want to take her chances with someone twice her size even if he deserved it.

“Are you sure you’re ready to put our lessons to the test?” Mikko’s voice cut through the tension.

“You’re the one who broke in,” she countered, “seems like you have a death wish.”

“We have unfinished business.”

“I like to let my gun do the—”

In the amount of time it’d taken her to utter the words, Mikko crossed the foyer, his black jean clad legs eating up the distance. The air was sucked out of her lungs, his presence both frightening and overwhelming. Her finger barely pressed on the trigger, but she was too slow and he was too fast.

“Ow–what the fuck!” Before she could get a shot off, the barrelwas securely in his hand, her wrists aching from where he’d squeezed hard enough to force her to release.

“That can be our next lesson,malyshka,”he damn near gloated all while tucking her gun into the waistband of his pants at his back. There was that word again, only this time she knew the meaning: baby.

“I don’t think I want any more lessons from you—”