Page 16 of Creep (Vulture Hollow MC #2)

Angel

As grateful as I am to Prophet for helping me out, now I want him gone, because Creep is finally in my new home, and we could finish unloading the truck ourselves.

But I don’t want to be impolite to the big boss of Vulture Hollow, so I keep on smiling and take box after box as the two men hand them to me at the door.

The old me, the one from before the abduction and Stockholm Syndrome (haha) would have shaken his head in disbelief.

I should be grateful my kidnapper’s awkward, and remorseful, and might just leave me alone.

He’s handsome enough, yes, despite the messy hair and a propensity for making himself appear smaller than he is by slouching, but I shouldn’t want any more of his attention.

So what if I do want it?

I keep thinking about the intense way he looks at me, how worried he was when I lied to him about the heart condition, how very gently and patiently he’s been handling me. Even in moments of frustration, he hasn’t frightened me. He’s stood up for me twice already, just because I needed it.

He’s my guard dog, and while his sharp teeth are capable of ending my life, I trust him not to turn on me.

Am I naive? That’s still to be decided. I might be guided by my dick not my brain, because when he spat at Johnny on command, it definitely had my blood pumping faster.

He’s got that shape I like in a man too?lean, but with wide shoulders.

He needs to shower after carrying all the boxes, and I could brush his hair because as a hairdresser it’s an itch I need to scratch.

Other than that, why not seal the deal? He clearly wants me, and I can’t pretend knowing he’s listening to me masturbate didn’t do anything for me.

When he spots me staring at him, he responds with one of those intense dark glances, and I want him in my bed even more. What’s the worst that could happen?

A lot, but it would not be the first time I’ve slept with a dangerous man. And a guy who stole my shoelace to feel closer to me can’t be that dangerous, can he?

“That’s the last of it,” Prophet says with a smile, passing me a box, but Creep snatches it.

“I’ll take it,” he says, as eager as a pup.

It’s pretty endearing, even though I’m not yet sure what’s gonna come of it.

“Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver,” I tell Prophet, and while I don’t actually want him to stay, I offer him a glass of water, like the grateful host I am.

His gaze strays past me, and he offers me a small smile. “Maybe not tonight. I think you two might want to talk,” he says, like a good wingman.

Perfect.

“Well then, I’ll probably see you at breakfast.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” Prophet says, but when he waves and winks at me, Creep frowns.

He follows his club president to the pickup with his gaze as if there was something offensive in what Prophet said.

Oh . He’s jealous. I’m reminded of that drama with Rooster. It’s a red flag, but I can’t help finding it adorable.

Creep only turns to face me once Prophet drives off. “Was the… time you spent with him okay?”

“Of course. He was the perfect gentleman,” I tell him, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let him know he’s welcome in my cabin. We’ve finished just in time, because the first drops of rain are starting to tap on the roof.

He rocks on the balls of his feet, as if unsure if he should take the plunge. He… must have done this before in one capacity or another, right?

“Good. I would have talked to him otherwise.”

I bite back a smirk. I’m no damsel in distress, and have handled my own shit from a young age, but it still warms my heart that he wants to be my protector. Men who say they’ll take care of me usually mean something else entirely.

“I think he is a good friend,” I tell him and then my back hugs the wall, Creep finally steps over the threshold, shoulders hunched as if he isn’t sure he’s allowed inside. Which is funny, since he didn’t ask permission that first time.

The cabin is small, with only one bedroom, and while the orange wall in the living room is not to my taste, the place looks half-decent after a bit of cleanup.

If I choose to stay here for longer, I could redecorate.

Put up my tapestry with lunar phases, display the crystals on shelves, maybe even get a rug, but it’s too early to think so far into the future, so instead, I make conversation.

“Whoever lived here before me had terrible taste,” I say, pointing to the portrait of a clown hanging on the orange wall.

“You don’t like creepy?” he asks, and it takes me two seconds to clock that he’s joking about his nickname. He’s even standing in the darkest corner of my new living room-kitchen like it’s second nature.

Is it weird that it sends a pleasant spark down my spine?

“Too many colors. It’s so jarring I’m almost missing the cave.”

He cocks his head, gaze even more attentive than before. I need to get the hair out of his face, because his bone structure is gorgeous, and I want to see more of him. “We can go back.”

A soft laugh rips from my chest. “I did say almost . I like the fresh air and sunlight, but maybe I’ll need to redecorate.

What do you think?” I ask, approaching him in slow, even steps that shouldn’t scare him off.

I don’t know why I even think this murderer, gang member, and all-around badass would be skittish, but it’s a vibe.

He looks around the room. Anywhere but at me. “I could help.”

Of course he would.

He would do anything to make me like him, and while I don’t intend to manipulate him in any malicious way, it is a good sign. He wants to please, and I like being pleased. Win-win.

“How about I help you tonight, as a thank you for taking my side against Johnny?”

“Help me… how?” Creep squints at me with suspicion that’s making me want to laugh.

“We all got sweaty moving my stuff. I say a shower is in order,” I tell him, taking a step closer.

I’m eager to see his eyes darken in response, but his frown deepens instead, so I go on, in case he doesn’t understand I mean for us to shower together .

“And I can wash your hair with my new shampoo. It’s got all the good stuff in it.

Tomorrow, I can even trim it for you once I unpack my stuff. ”

Creep raises his arm and smells his armpit. I bite the inside of my cheek not to burst out laughing.

“I can go wash and come back later. I’ll do that.”

“Wait, what?” I mutter, shaking my head. He is worse with understanding cues than I thought. “No, I meant… we could shower together.”

“That’s okay. I don’t want to,” he says to my bewilderment, and when I try to reach for his hand, he backs toward the door.

What is even going on? Prophet did say Creep’s had a weird upbringing or something, but I don’t get it.

“Why not? Am I misunderstanding something?” I ask, flopping my hand back and forth to indicate both of us. “I thought you’re attracted to me.”

Creep makes a raspy huff. “I am. I’m so fucking attracted to you. I just… don’t want to shower. But I wash!” he adds quickly and his cheeks flush. “I’m not dirty.”

This makes zero sense. I step forward, reaching for him.

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. All that warm water drizzling down our bodies—” I mutter, trying to tempt him.

I’ve never had this much trouble enticing a man to fuck me.

On one hand, it’s borderline offensive that he doesn’t want to see me naked as fast as possible, but on the other…

he intrigues me. Creep is a mystery, and I love those.

UFOs, secrets of the universe, unsolved murders, and sightings of Big Foot, all those intrigue me.

I’ve always been interested in the strange and unusual, and Creep is that, in the form of a man.

The more he backs off, the more I need to have him.

“I said I don’t want to shower!” He steps away and, after a moment of hesitation, turns, going straight for the door.

“What? Where are you going?” I ask, following him, but he’s already out, off the porch, and gone behind the grey veil of rain.

What. The. Fuck?

“Oh, come on!” I whine in frustration, resting my hands on the wooden balustrade encircling the porch as disappointment sinks in. What the hell happened? “Creep!” I call out into the dying light of day. “Creep, come back! Let’s talk!”

I step from under the porch roof, not even caring that I’m getting soaked, because where on earth could he have disappeared to? Behind a tree? Into a bush? I search for him all around my cabin, praying that I don’t catch a tick when lush ferns stroke my legs.

All I get is the steady tapping of rain on the grass, the trees, the roof of my cabin—

The roof.

My gaze shoots up, and while I don’t see him, I swear I spot a shadow up there.

“I can see you!” I bluff, because I have nothing to lose.

Creep’s tattooed hands grab the ridge of the roof, then he climbs over and sits there like a cat in a tree. It’s late, and while the sky remains pale, the sun’s gone. He’s barely a shadow, sitting on the damn roof while the cold water drizzles over us both.

I stare back, blinking when rain gets into my eyes. I’m offering him sex, and this is his response? Unbelievable.

“Of course, because nothing says I want you so much like running away onto the cold roof,” I shout, hoping the rain drowns out my voice, and we won’t make a spectacle of ourselves. The cabins might be decently spaced out, but I do have neighbors.

Creep covers his head with his hands. I’m not sure if he’s trying to hide from the rain, or if it’s a gesture of frustration. He’s the frustrated one? I’m the one having to peel the onion that he is and not cry in the process.

“I just wanted to sleep under your bed!” he yells back.

Wow. Just… wow.