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9

DELILAH

M y eyelids stick to my eyeballs as I try to blink, and soft fingers stroke my cheek. I’m lifted against a solid chest and a groan parts my lips. It’s immediately followed by a gentle voice attempting to soothe me.

“It’s okay. You just had a bad night.”

Alertness floods my system and I push back at the same time as I force my eyes to open. My mind is foggy, and fingers wrap around my arms as I fall. My heart attempts to beat out of my chest and thickens the fog.

The fingers dig deeper into my biceps to prevent me hitting the floor. It takes longer than normal for my clouded brain to recognize the voice as I blink, trying to remove the image of the masked figure.

“Delilah, it’s me.”

Asher.

The room is darker with the drapes covering the windows, but it’s Asher in front of me. His features are filled with worry and his eyes move over my body. They pause as a sob weakens my knees and I grab his t-shirt in my fists.

He’s real. His heart is beating under my hands and he quickly wraps his arm around me as I sink both mentally and physically. My scraped knees sting as they connect with the floor. Hot tears burn a path down my cheeks and my stomach convulses, knowing it’s now safe.

Lifting me off the floor, he sits on the edge of the piano bench and sets me across his thighs. Both of his arms wrap around me as he pulls me closer and slowly begins to sway side to side. I cry harder. It’s stupid when the last thing I remember is trying to call for help, and I’m alive.

But it’s the only thing I can do because the light slowly filters through the gaps in the drapes, showing how much time has passed. Time I have no recollection of. Time that the masked freak was there with me unconscious.

Asher strokes my hair and kisses my temple as he whispers, “Shh, it’s okay.”

Shaking my head, I try to speak but each inhale stutters in my chest. It breaks up my words, making them incoherent, as he watches me. He continues stroking my hair as he patiently waits for me to say something, anything. It requires effort to battle my erratic breathing and I manage to croak out, “He was…here.”

His brows slam together, and his hand pauses on my nape as he pulls his head back. The arm around me tightens and he slowly turns his head looking around the space. I follow it but there’s no sign of anyone. Not even a stone. I freeze at the sight of the socks on my feet.

I was wearing a different pair. They were comfortable, white socks. The lace-trimmed crew socks don’t even belong to me. I’ve never seen them before, let alone changed into them. I have no idea why that’s disturbing me more than the fact that the freak was chasing me or in my house. But there’s something more sinister in the fact he changed my socks.

Asher continues trying to soothe me as I roughly pull at the lace and kick the socks off. Balling them up, I throw them out of sight and hide in his chest. His arms wrap tighter around me as he rests his lips on my crown.

I wince as my scraped knees graze his arm and he slowly lifts his elbow. Looking from the raw skin to my face, he asks, “Did you fall?”

The truth is worse than his assumption. If I just fell, it would be okay. It would be my own fault for being clumsy. How do I explain that some deranged fucking weirdo dressed as a shadow broke in? Or that they grabbed me, but I don’t have any other marks on me. There’s no soreness between my legs despite my muscles aching from use.

Grabbing his face with both hands, I beg him to believe me as my voice cracks. “Asher, he was here.” He just stares at me without any inclination of his thoughts on his features. The longer I stare at him without a reaction the more hysterical my voice turns. “He grabbed me. And he chased me. He was at the window. I ran. But he got inside.”

My eyes flick between his, searching for proof that he believes me. The pale green dims and he takes a deep breath before he says, “Did you take?—”

“He was here! He was here, and I cut my knees when he tackled me on the driveway. I got away from him but then he was inside again.” Tears drip from my jawline. “Then he grabbed me before I could call the police.”

I deflate without removing my hands from his face. Sweat beads down my spine and my hands are hot against his cold skin as I lean into him, staring through his chest.

“You believe me,” I say to convince myself, then look up. “Don’t you?”

He remains silent for a beat and cups my cheek before he answers so quietly it barely disturbs the air. “Yeah, Lilo, I believe you.”

My eyes close, pushing more tears over my lashes that Asher thumbs away as I smile in relief. He believes me, which means I’m not crazy. But he continues staring at me with that pitying smile, showing he’s a liar. So I push away from him and stand, pointing at my knees, at the proof.

“Look, my knees are scraped from the gravel. And he changed my socks.”

He looks over his shoulder in the direction I threw them. His brows slowly come together and then his eyes close at the same time his chin drops to his chest. “You started making the roses again?”

I rear back at his question and search the room for any flowers. I hate them and I’ve never thought gardening was therapeutic. It’s a pain in the ass and the one thing my mother always had was fresh flowers in every room of the house. The blooms would have to be iced so they wouldn’t wilt in front of any guests that may see them. If there was ever a symbol for that woman, it was stupid roses that die, but she did everything in her power to slow it down while neglecting the lives she gave birth to.

A small paper rose sits beside the discarded socks and I slowly step forward. There are patterns on each petal but I’m gently pulled back. Asher tenses at whatever he sees on my face. He finally believes me and he walks over to the other side of the piano. Without picking the socks or rose up, he examines them. His body blocks my view of them, and each second that passes fills his muscles with tension until he turns with deathly anger in his eyes.

Fear dries my throat, and it takes everything in me not to run as he storms towards me. His fingers are harsh as he grabs my hand and pulls me behind him. There’s no explanation as I’m dragged out of the room and his head moves on a swivel, checking every corner of the hallway until we’re in our bedroom. Guiding me into the bathroom, he leans down and kisses my forehead.

“Lock the door and stay here,” he says with no room for argument.

I still do it and grab his t-shirt before he turns fully. “Don’t leave me alone.”

The freak could still be here, and I don’t know what he’s capable of. I’ve got one thing, one person, who is on my side, and I refuse to lose Asher. It would only lead to me losing myself and that twisted little cunt isn’t going to get the satisfaction of taking anything away from me.

He must see the fear in my eyes as he gently cups my hand clinging to his t-shirt. The skin over my knuckles is paler as he presses his fingers into the non-existent gap to pry me off him, all while infusing false calm into his voice.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m just going to check the house while we wait for the police.”

“No. He could be here. I don’t know where he went, or what he did after I passed out.”

A vein pulses in the side of his jaw. His nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening as he asks, “He touched you?”

There’s no opportunity for me to answer. He grabs me and pulls me into his chest, firmly pressing his lips firmly to my crown as he takes deep breaths that blow across the top of my hair. The rage intensifies with his hold despite the controlled breathing.

My cheek is pressed flush to his chest. I can’t differentiate the thud of his heart beating over the rush of my own blood moving around my body from how tightly he’s hugging me. It distorts the sound as I try to reassure us both.

“I don’t think so.” Asher loosens his hold enough for me to look up as I say, “There was something over my face, but I don’t feel different.”

The waistband of my panties is still sitting against my hips. There’s no soreness or discomfort between my thighs. That has to mean that the violation didn’t extend to my body. The freak just chased me and broke in. Because that’s fucking normal .

Asher doesn’t attempt to lock me in again as he takes out his phone and calls someone. One arm is still around me and I can hear the entire conversation.

“Police,” he says before the operator has even spoken.

“What’s the issue, sir?”

“Someone broke into my house and attacked my wife.”

He tenses as he relays the information I gave him. His fingers dig into my hip, and he pulls me even closer. The inside of my cheek molds around my teeth, but he doesn’t loosen as he pulls me with him to go downstairs.

We walk slowly, and awkwardly, still attached to each other. He pauses at the top of the stairs and holds his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he bands his arm around my thighs and picks me up. I automatically wrap around him.

The childhood memories of the first time he picked me up comfort me as we descend the stairs. I wrap my arms around his neck and play with the short hairs above his nape to call more nostalgia forward.