Page 27 of Scream For Me
“Kat?” A deep voice comes from behind me.
I swing my head around and see Elias standing in the rain holding a large umbrella. I can’t help the laugh that falls out of me. Of course, he would be here, of all places to witness my very public, very literal fall from grace.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with slightly more frustration than I intended.
“I had some business in the area, I was driving home,” he says, his gaze fixed on me. His piercing blue eyes are almost luminous in the dim light.
“In this part of town?” I say, gesturing to the street covered with trash, graffiti, and boarded-up windows.
He gives me a lazy smirk that lets me know that he’s not going to elaborate or answer my question. He holds his large hand out. I ignore it and roll myself onto all fours before standing up. Pain shoots through my hands and knees, making me wince, and he immediately catches it.
“What were you doing?” he asks.
“Oh, nothing,” I say, brushing off debris from my knees. “I like to sit on sidewalks in the rain. It’s a favorite hobby of mine.” The sarcasm rolls off my tongue so quickly, I’m not even sure where it came from.
He lets out an amused scoff. “You might want to consider conducting this pastime in a better area of town.”
His eyes glance down my body before settling on my knees. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” I say, ignoring the growing wetness on my knees that has nothing to do with the rain. I’ll deal with that later, and it definitely won’t be in front of my very hot, very intimidating boss. Thank fuck I can’t actuallyseethe blood. I don’t think I could handle the embarrassment of fainting in front of him as well.
“Kat,” he says again, quieter this time, and the authority in his tone sends something electric sparking low in my belly. “You’re bleeding through your jeans.”
“I’m aware. I have eyes,” I grind out. If Lucifer himself wanted to open up a pit to hell right under my feet right now, I would swan dive into it.
“Debatable,” he says with a wicked smirk. “You did just fall over while jogging in a straight line.”
“Are you always this helpful, or am I just getting the special Elias treatment tonight?”
“Special,” he says the word so quietly I’m sure I misheard. But the electricity shoots lower than my belly this time, regardless.
Traitorous fucking pussy.
Rain patters against the umbrella as he steps closer, close enough that the edge of it covers my head, cutting off the steady downpour that has soaked me to the bone. I hadn’t realized how soaked I was until now.
“I’m fine,” I say, but the words fall flat. I shift my weight and immediately regret it. His eyes travel down my legs before settling on my knees, and I swear I can almost feel the heat of his gaze traveling over my body.
“You’re limping,” he says, his focus shifting back to my face.
“I can stand just fine.” As if to prove a point, I straighten both knees, but one instantly buckles, making me drop a couple of inches before his free hand flies up, catching me by the elbow and holding me steady. My breath catches at both the fall and the new closeness between us. For a second, everything stills. Rain, thunder. Breath, thought. All of it.
“You were saying?” he murmurs above me, that smirk back on his face.
“I’m fine,” I say, any bravado I had earlier is waning now. His grip on my elbow softens, but he doesn’t let go or step back. I swear I feel his thumb rub gently against my leather jacket.
“Let me take you home,” he says, ushering me towards his car.
I almost brace myself for the pit in my stomach to open up at the offer—especially after everything with Kirk—but it doesn’t come. But I’m not ready to trust my gut instinct just yet. “No, thank you. I have somewhere to be,” I gesture my head to the bus stop behind me.
“That bus?” he nods toward the stop, and I turn around to see my bus pulling away from the curb. The taillights fading into obscurity, leaving me fucking stranded.
“Yes, Elias,thatbus,” I say, throwing my arms up in frustration. “I wasn’t exactly sprinting for fun, you know?” I let out a slow breath, tipping my head back as rain patters against the fabric of the umbrella.Perfect. Just fucking perfect. I stare at the spot where the bus pulled up twenty seconds ago as if it might magically reappear if I look hard enough.
“You weren’t sprinting successfully either,” he says with a wicked grin.
“Thank you for that.” He huffs a quiet laugh, but it fades when I don’t match it.
My brain is running too fast right now. I’m seven miles from home, and I can’t walk. I know there’s another bus that goes to a different part of town, but I’d have to walk half a mile and change buses between. I already know I’ll be limping the whole way, which isn’t ideal. A cab would be easier and faster. But then I remember the number that was staring me in the face when I looked at my bank account this morning.
