should run . . .
Chapter 4: Wild Animals
I heard a quiet knock at the door. I stared it for a minute before it began to open.
Marcus peeked his head through. “May I come in?” His face looked as calm and as beautiful as it did when I first saw him this morning leaning against his bike. I watched him closely to see if any part of him resembled the Marcus that scared me—the Marcus that left me no more than half an hour ago—this was not that Marcus.
I nodded yes.
He walked in slowly, as if approaching me with caution. His hands extended like he was stopping traffic. My body tensed up as he drew nearer.
“I’m so sorry, Phoebe. I want to explain so many things, but I don’t think you could handle it all at once.” His face looked torn.
I couldn’t speak. I wanted to say I wasn’t afraid of him, but I couldn’t. I had seen something in his eyes. And, although the eyes that were looking at me now were soft and kind, the ones I couldn’t get out of my mind were deadly. There was a dark, unnatural side to Marcus that much was certain, and it scared me.
He was only a few feet into the living room, his hands still extended out to me. “Phoebe, it pains me to see you so afraid of me.”
I could hear the hurt in his voice as he said this. He seemed to truly care for me, to want to protect me, even from himself.
I shifted uneasily on the couch. “I’m all cleaned up,” I said, offering him a small smile.
He lowered his hands and smiled gratefully. Still moving slowly, he walked around to the front of the couch and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes were fixed on me. He looked stunned.
I became instantly aware and horrified all at once. I had been so distracted by Marcus's reaction and bandaging myself up that when he knocked on the door, I had forgotten that I wasn’t dressed yet.
There I was on the couch with nothing on but a tank top and underwear—covered here and there in Band-aids and gauze.
I saw his jolted expression at how exposed I was—it was nothing compared to mine.
“I, uh,” I stammered. “I didn’t have time to get dressed! Don’t look!” I jumped up—rolling completely off the couch, landing on my face.
I lay there motionless, bottoms up, wishing I were dead. “There is no dignified way out of this. None!” I mumbled into the carpet.
Marcus scooped me up and put me back on the couch without so much as a smirk. His eyes wandered the room for a moment before settling on an open door.
“Wait here.” He dashed to my bedroom and returned with a quilted blanket from my bed.
He’d draped it over my legs and was tucking it around my waist when I put my hand on his bicep. He stopped abruptly, not looking at me. I tilted my head to the side. His eyes reluctantly met mine. They were a deep chocolaty brown now. No hint of anger tainting them.
My eyes dropped to his lips. I could feel his cool breath escaping them, kissing mine. My pulse quickened. “Thank you,” I breathed.
I wanted to kiss him . . . I was certain he wanted to kiss me too. I sat there, frozen once again. Only this time it wasn’t from fear. The only movement from my body was my breathing in and out.
He stayed there leaning over me . . . so close but never touching. I watched his lips hovering over mine. “You’re welcome,” they whispered back. He pulled away abruptly and took a seat beside the couch.
I placed my hand subtly over my heart, trying to slow it. What was wrong with me? I’d been close to guys before, but never had I been so drawn to one.
“Am I safe to assume that you won’t be working tomorrow?” He pointed to my legs.
I laughed a little. “I guess not.” I was glad that the conversation had taken a lighter tone. “Although,” I continued, “I’d rather not be home in case that wolf comes back.” I shuddered as I remembered Brian’s offer of protection.
Marcus's expression was unreadable. “What wolf?”
“Oh,” I waved him off. “Brian said a wolf killed some
Learning to Kill: Stories