Heart of Stone - Book 1: Fighting Fate

As soon as he took a step toward her, her mind flicked into flight mode and she whirled around to run back into the store, but he was faster.

Snatching her fabric softener from her hand, he grabbed her arm and tugged her toward him so she would face him. The sudden jerk made her drop her nearly empty coffee cup on the pavement.

Terrified, she struggled against him. “Let me g—”

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he demanded in a low, husky voice.

Her eyes flew up at him as he towered a foot over her. Her mouth filled with cotton and she sputtered incoherently at him as she tried to tug herself free of his grasp. Maybe it was all the muscles that rippled throughout his body or the stare that seemed to pierce through her very soul, or maybe it was the wild look about him or the aura of power that rolled off of him—either way, she trembled under his grasp.

Hauling her away from the door, she stumbled after him. “H-Hey!”

He didn’t release his grip on her arm until he had pulled her behind a little nook in the wall and pressed in.

Gasping in surprise, her senses were overwhelmed by his cologne—no, his natural musk. There was nothing artificial about it. It was warm and earthy, with hints of sandalwood and pine. It was over-powering and clouded her mind of all logical thought processes. She wanted to close her eyes and breathe in the amazing aroma. If it were not for the fact that she had a boyfriend, and that this guy was El Mucho-Creepo-Stalker, she would have been content to do just that. However, given the circumstances, she’d be just as crazy as he was if she stopped to sniff him.

Clenching her teeth together, she gathered her wits and aimed a kick to his groin, when he spun her around and pressed her face and chest up against the brick wall. She cried out in pain upon the impact, and he lessened his pressure on her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he growled.

“Wh-What do you want from me?”

He inhaled as she squeezed her eyes shut in fear. She held her breath, mentally preparing herself for him to strike her or molest her, or something equally awful. She was in no way strong enough to beat him off.

“Nothing. Just to warn you.”

His voice came out strained and gravelly. Struck off-guard, all the air she’d been holding rushed out of her.

She didn’t understand. “What?”

Her voice trembled, and she was actually glad that she was facing the wall now instead of him. Her heart was racing, pounding so hard she feared it would bruise her ribcage.

“You have to leave,” he said, backing away a few inches from her now. “It’s not safe for you here. Go back to where you came from.”

With the space between them now larger, she felt she could breathe better, if only a little bit. Gasping, she chanced a glance at him over her shoulder.

His rugged facial features were locked in a grim grip that would make anyone who glanced at him shudder and think twice before approaching. The burning intensity in his eyes made her heart jump in her throat.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her eyes widened as her hands flew up and clutched her throat, struggling to open up the airways and allow oxygen to pass through.

His eyes widened. Seizing her arm, he dragged her to a nearby bench, sat her down and pushed her head between her legs.

“Breathe,” he instructed in a rough voice.

His large hand rubbed her upper back in an attempt to calm her and open up her windpipes.

Her vision went from near blackness to saturated light before she could grasp how close she came to passing out. When her vision returned to focus and she could breathe somewhat normally, she realized that his hand was on her back.

Pushing him off, she glared at him and choked out, “Don’t touch me!”

“Lower your voice.”

Her eyes bugged out at the calm, yet commanding tone of his voice. Did he just say that? “Excuse me?”

“Now is not the time to create a scene.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh, this is definitely the time to create a scene!” She shot back with a glare. “Who do you think you are pressing me up against a wall and ordering me to leave town?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You will lower your voice,” he said in a slow baritone, “or I’ll lower it for you.”

She clenched her teeth. “And how do you propose you’ll do that?”

Their eyes locked as they sat next to each other on the bench. His blond hair was tied back in a ponytail this time and a few loose strands hung down in his face. For some bizarre reason, Aubree had the urge to brush them back, but why in the world would she do that? She didn’t want anything to do with this demanding, freaky stranger.

She strained to maintain the upper hand with her eyes and not back down. She had to let him know that he couldn’t push her around. He didn’t know her. He didn’t have the right to tell her what to do.

Despite her anger and annoyance, the more she stared back into those deep blues, the more drawn she felt toward him. It was unlike anything she had felt before. Her heart began to beat a different rhythm and for some reason, she couldn’t tear herself away. Soon, her eyes were watering, and she blinked.

A smug grin tugged his lips as he leaned back casually on the bench now, looking pleased with himself despite the bob of his Adam’s apple. His eyes continued to assess her. “Not bad.”

Blinking back the moisture, she gave him a puzzled looked, which only broadened his smirk.

“You were saying?” he prompted.

Dumbfounded, she had no idea what he was getting at now. She racked her mind, trying to figure out what they had been talking about prior to the weird stare-off.

He had ordered you to leave, a small voice from the back of her mind said.

She scowled. “Who do you think you are telling me what to do? I don’t have to listen to a word you say.”