“Bastian,” I try again, “you need to tell me what’s happening.”
He keeps coming. Three steps away. Two steps. One.
When he reaches me, his hands slam down on either side of my hips. I’m caged in place. Couldn’t run if I wanted to. Problem is…
That’s the thing that terrifies me most. Not the blood on his shirt or the feral look in his eyes or the fact that he just beat a man unconscious in a public park. It’s that some twisted part of me is thrilled by all of it.
It was a lifetime ago when I first made those stupid caveman jokes in my head. Big man say go eat oysters. Me go eat oysters with big man. It was cute then. Funny, even.
This isn’t cute. Not by a long shot.
This is barbaric, bloodthirsty danger.
He leans in close enough that I can smell the wintergreen on his breath mixed wi
