Page 16 of Stalked By Raiden

“Let’s have a look.”

I force myself to focus on the present moment and slip my cardigan off before carefully pulling the neckline of my blouse aside. He moves closer. Close enough that I catch the familiar scent of cedar and clean soap. Close enough to feel his hot breath ghosting over my exposed skin.

His fingertips brush lightly against my shoulder as he examines the tattoo, sending shivers of current through my entire body. The touch is brief, but it doesn’t stop my nipples from tightening in unabashed desire.

“It looks good.” He reaches for a tube of ointment. “This might feel cold,” he warns.

“It can’t be worse than the tattoo machine,” I say softly, drowning in the sensations that his presence and fingers evoke.

A quiet laugh escapes him. “No.”

The cool ointment soothes the tender skin. His fingers move carefully, spreading it over the small lavender sprig. When he’s finished, he puts everything back in place before turning back to me.

I straighten my shirt just in time to find his eyes on me. His gaze ensnares mine, and my heart trembles hard in my chest. His stare is penetrating, drilling through my numbness to my core. To the part of me that’s scared of Drake. The part of me that wants to be needed.

And underneath it, something I can’t name. Something that watches the way a locked door watches. In all of this, my breathing becomes erratic, and a deep part of me blooms with an ache that seems insatiable.

Raiden continues to look at me. “Something’s bothering you.”

I freeze. Was I that obvious?

“It’s nothing,” I say.

“I don’t believe you.” He leans down and gently holds my chin, staring deeply. “You’re mine, Elodie. Know that I’ll fucking destroy anyone who threatens your existence,” he promises softly.

My heart stutters at his words, and I find myself drowning in his presence. I consider telling him. About the flowers. About the notes. About Drake. I should be scared of Raiden and his blatant claim of me, but it only makes me want him more.

I turn my thoughts back to Drake. I don’t want Raiden on his radar. I don’t know the extent of violence Drake’s capable of. A confrontation would only make everything worse. Besides, I don’t want Raiden involved in my issues.

“It’s just been a long day.”

He studies me for another moment before giving a slow nod. “If you say so,” he says before pressing a lingering kiss to my bare shoulder. “Come upstairs with me, Freckles. Let’s have dinner.”

My insides clench at the name and the texture of his voice. I blink dazedly at him. “What?”

Raiden flashes me a wicked grin as he straightens. “You can keep me company while I cook dinner for us.”

“Okay.”

An hour later, we’re sharing dinner at the small dining table, while music plays quietly from a speaker on the kitchen counter. His apartment feels homey, not like the bachelor pad I expected.

“How did you learn to cook like this? I ask as I lift a forkful of pasta.

“I’ve been alone as long as I can remember. In my late teens, I quickly realized I didn’t want to live on takeout, so I learned.” He holds my gaze. “And I got better with years of practice.”

The conversation keeps flowing naturally. I ask how long he’s been tattooing.

“On and off for about twelve years.”

“You always wanted to do it?”

“No.”

“So, what changed?”

He leans back slightly. “I needed money in college, and it paid well. I discovered I was good at it. Then. I recruited the boys.” He smiles faintly.

“Really? How?” I ask, captivated by his sculpted face.