“And you’re a desperate, bored little suburban girl dying on the inside. Is this how you get your kicks?” I jump as movement catches my peripheral vision. His fingers snag a tendril of my hair and tug, forcing me to face him. “I’m giving you every chance to leave now, rabbit.”
Running is what I should do because it’s what I’ve always done. When it comes to Branden. The world. Everyone.
I don’t know what makes him so different. What it is about his gaze that consumes my interest, making it impossible to shy from? Or his taunts unbearable to endure…his hatred so electrifying that I’m buzzing with it.
“You’re disgusting,” I rasp.
“So prove it.” He takes another step, palming my hips without an ounce of hesitation. I jump, cringing at the feel of his heat leeching through my sweater, but he doesn’t back away. “Be a good little martyr, then,” he taunts against my ear. “Run away. Scream. I’ll wait.”
He does so patiently, his hands unmoving.
And it’s the worst thing he could do.
There is no brutal groping. No harsh contact meant to intimidate. He merely lets his fingers settle against me as if daring me to pull away. React.
But I’ve spent so long training myself to endure that I’ve forgotten how to feel. And he feels…
Wrong. Too warm. Hot. Burning. Sizzling. Hateful.
His eyes narrow as if he’s reading my mind, and he angles his jaw, his lips parting. A gust of his breath rustles my hair, enhancing my perception of every ounce of flesh laid bare before him.
Before I can regain my senses, his fingers flex, yanking me closer, his eyes cutting down to my chest. I feel my hands twitch to shield myself, but they never move. And he just stares, raking me over with that impassive gaze. He lets his hand graze lower until he finds the sliver of space where the sweater’s hem meets my skin.
And he teases that strip with the tip of his nail, watching avidly as I flinch. Twitch. But it isn’t until his brows draw together that I realize what has him so confused.
I’m not pulling away.
So he shoves his hand beneath the sweater entirely, shocking my flesh with a scalding assault of heat. I jump in my rush to cringe from his reach.
But he just chuckles.
“You’d let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to do, wouldn’t you?” His tone is mocking enough, but a frown tugs on his mouth, betraying his true emotion—irritation.
His rabbit won’t resist the feral teeth bared for her throat.
“Fuck yeah, you would.” Bored, he turns away, shrugging his shoulder dismissively. “Hop away, rabbit. We’re done.”
“W-What?” Looking up, I catch him lumbering across the room. Once again, I cease to exist to him. My actions no longer matter—not even when my fingers snatch something from his table as if of their own accord.
“I said leave,” he snaps as my hand slips into my bag, depositing a scrap of paper inside. “Zhang can consider himself cleared…for now. I’ll collect my payment later.”
“What do you mean?”
He scoffs. “I mean you should scurry away before I change my mind, rabbit.”
I don’t challenge him this time. I just run, powering forward until I’m outside, hurrying down the street. Only when he’s safely in the distance, do I find myself withdrawing the slip of paper. My hands shake as I unfurl it, but I’m forced to smooth it out against the side of a nearby building to appreciate the image in full.
A laboriously sketched dragon rages, seemingly alive though formed out of ink and bold lines. Its eyes meet mine unflinchingly, proposing a question I’m not brave enough to answer.
You’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to you, wouldn’t you?
I crumble it into a ball and start toward a nearby trash can. In the end, I return it to my bag instead. As I head home, I grit my teeth, desperate to ignore that niggling question.
Would I have?
My racing heartbeat provides the answer my pride refuses to acknowledge.
Given his personality, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
Chapter Five
It’s amazing what a shower can do. Soothe aching muscles, and wash away the dirt and grime left by a stranger’s groping fingertips. Lies, too. The spray of water even disguises the tears spilling from my eyes, and for one brief second, all my worries disappear into a wad of terry cloth and soap. Once the water shuts off, however, they find me again.
The second I step into a towel, the ping of my cell phone becomes a chilling reminder of the hell my life has become. My hand shakes as I snatch the device from the counter where I left it. The screen flashes with a predictable message from Branden. Good morning. Text when you’re awake. I miss your smile.
But there’s another lurking beneath his from a number I don’t recognize. Please, Hannah. Lexi deserves justice. Please call me.
I block that number without a second thought and change into a sweater and jeans. When I enter my living room, my phone lights up again, a text message from Mara this time. Missed you last night! Wanna go out tonight?
I don’t answer. Instead, I leave my building and head to the Paper Crane. It’s still boarded up, the broken glass replaced with plywood. A crude, handwritten sign on the door proclaims Closed indefinitely, with a list of nearby bookstores to visit instead.
Because even in his own dire straits, Mr. Zhang still can’t ignore the quest for a good book.
Rather than obey the sign, I cut around to the side alley and approach a door I’ve only ever entered through on my very first day when I came to interview for the job. I knock once to silence. Then again.
It’s chilly out despite the sun blazing down. I’m forced to wrap my arms around myself as I pace the narrow space before the door. Finally, its hinges squeal as it’s cautiously opened from the inside. “What do you want?” A pair of wary eyes peeks out from the thinnest crack.
“Here.” I reach into my bag and withdraw a battered envelope. “It’s probably not much, all things considered, but it should be enough to at least help replace some of the stock. Here. Take it.”
He doesn’t. “You should leave.” The thin crack vanishes as the door slams shut.
I watch the envelope of money tremble over the filthy concrete below as my hand wavers. “I want to work. I can pick up trash. Whatever you need,” I say to the silence. “I… I need to work.”
The tremble of desperation in my voice can’t be faked. Hours in the bookstore have become a welcome escape for me. Otherwise, nothing prevents me from sitting in my apartment and staring into space as Branden stares back.
“Please…”
I don’t know how much time passes before those rusty hinges squeal again, and someone gingerly pries the money from my grasp.
“You’re a good girl.” Mr. Zhang sighs as he opens the envelope and starts to count the assorted bills inside. “Too good. You want to work?” He jerks his chin toward the front of the shop. “Go in, and you start fixing up. You’re right, this isn’t much…” He pockets the money, but then his lips part in a quick, warm grin before I can truly feel any guilt. “But it’s enough for the window, at least. Here. Go.”