I didn’t check under my bed.

  What if this guy is still here?

  Fuck.

  My whole body starts to shake, and almost twenty minutes pass before I finally get the courage to throw myself down on the ground and peer under my bed. It’s dark under here, but there’s enough morning sunshine streaming through the window to confirm that it’s all in my head, and I let out a heavy sigh of relief. There’s no psychotic stalker under my bed.

  But what about the closet?

  Taking another ten agonizing minutes to build up the courage once again, I finally scramble across my room with shaking hands and lunge forward. Before I can chicken out like a little bitch, I grab both of the closet doors at the same time and tear them open, immediately assuming the stance of an MMA fighter as though I’m about to face down the heavyweight champion.

  The closet is just as empty as under the bed, but it chills me to the bone seeing how all of my clothes have been pushed to one side, leaving enough space for somebody to hide here if they needed to. But surely I would have noticed if somebody had been hiding in my closet, right? I mean, the only reason someone would have to hide would be if I were in here at the same time.

  Pushing that thought out of my head, I take my phone out into the living room, not feeling comfortable in my bedroom right now, and I finally bring up the security app to look over the cameras. They’re all on and working, and when I go to check the alarm, I realize I hadn’t actually set it last night.

  Fuck. How stupid could I have been?

  What’s the point of going to all of the trouble to get a security system installed if I don’t remember to turn it on?

  Bringing up the footage from last night, I scroll through it, trying to see anything that could tell me who the hell this guy is, but after fast-forwarding through the whole thing and seeing nothing but me tossing and turning in my bed, my brows furrow.

  There was nobody in my apartment, but the fucked-up message on my wall clearly shows that there was. Did I imagine the words staring back at me?

  I shake my head, and just to be sure, I stride back into my bedroom. Sure enough, the message is still scrawled across my wall in big, creepy lipstick letters.

  Fuck. That must mean my new security system is nothing but a piece of shit. Hell, I’m glad Viper didn’t make me pay for that, otherwise, I’d be pissed. Though, he should really reconsider looking for a new security guy because whoever the fuck he’s using now clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing. Though, it could definitely have something to do with the dumbass bikers who installed it for me.

  What am I supposed to do now?

  Still not feeling great about spending so much time in my apartment, I hurry through a shower and find myself looking all around the bathroom, making sure there are no hidden cameras watching me, and despite seeing nothing, I can’t keep the paranoia from circling my mind.

  After getting dressed, I hightail it out of my apartment, putting extra effort into locking up. As I get to work early and sit alone in the shop with my sketchpad, I find myself wondering what this guy looks like. Is he creepy or is there something dark and intriguing about him?

  Is he the type to slit my throat in my sleep, or is he there because something about me excites him? Does he spend his nights watching me sleep, looking over the curve of my body and wishing he could touch me?

  My heart races, and as I lose focus on the drawing in my sketchpad, I find a thrill pulsing through my body at the thought of this mystery stalker, and I immediately scold myself. I shouldn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t excite me, and yet, the thought of some sexy-as-sin man touching me in the night has my blood pumping faster than ever before.

  Shit. This is all Alex’s fault. He’s kept me sexually frustrated for the past two weeks. If I wasn’t so worked up and my favorite monster dildo wasn’t so far out of reach, I would have been able to satisfy that raw, relentless craving, and I would probably be thoroughly repulsed by the idea of the wicked things my stalker would do to me.

  Yep. It’s official. I’m sick in the head, but hell, maybe me and my stalker might have something in common, you know, apart from the fact that we both like hanging out in my apartment.

  Trying to put all the thoughts of this mystery stalker out of my head, I drop my gaze back to my sketchpad and let myself get lost in what I’m doing. My pencil glides over the pages effortlessly, and it feels a lot more natural than it had yesterday. I can’t help but wonder if it’s because this new development with my stalker is keeping my mind off the guilt I feel about Crew, or if pouring all of my emotions into my design yesterday has somehow managed to clear my head. All I know is that today, I haven’t been hung up over Crew’s death. Don’t get me wrong, not having him here still kills me, but today it seems so much easier to breathe.

  A few hours pass when I hear the familiar chime above the door, and I glance back over my shoulder to find Big Jim making his way in. “Hey, kid,” he calls out through the shop, raising his voice over the music I’m playing. “How’re you feeling today?”

  “Alright,” I say with a slight shrug of my shoulders as he strides to his station and dumps his shit on the table.

  “You good? You never beat me in.”

  “Yeah, fine,” I tell him. “Just wanted to get a head start on a few designs. I got a little behind last week.”

  “Sure thing,” he says before holding my stare, his lips pressing into a hard line as if deep in thought. “Hey, listen. I wanted to run something by you.”

  My brows furrow, and I wait in silence for him to continue, not sure I like the tone in his voice. It feels as though I need to prepare myself for whatever is about to come.

  “If it’s too much or too soon, you need to speak up, but with Crew gone, the workload is just too much for the two of us to maintain. You’re doing crazy hours trying to take on Crew’s ongoing clients, and I know you like the cash, but you’re gonna burn yourself out.”

  “What are you getting at?” I ask, hearing the familiar rumble of a bike rolling to a stop outside the shop. As I glance toward the front window, I’m not surprised to find Viper peering inside, his dark, unreadable gaze already locked on mine.

  Big Jim lets out a heavy sigh. “I know it’s only been a week since Crew died, but I need to hire someone new.”

  My back stiffens, and I whip my gaze back toward Big Jim. “You want to replace him?” I ask, hating how reasonable it sounds, and yet at the same time, the idea of seeing someone else at Crew’s station makes something ache in my chest.

  Big Jim nods. “Have a think about it,” he tells me. “If it’s too much to handle, then we’ll figure something out. We might have to turn away a few clients, but I have a business to run, and making sure neither of us burns out is my top priority. If either one of us goes down, I’m not sure the business could survive it.”

  “Shit.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  I press my lips into a hard line, and just as my gaze shifts back toward the front window, I watch as Viper takes off again, the roar of his engine practically shaking the whole fucking building.

  What the fuck was that about? Is he checking up on me?

  I don’t get to linger on it as my phone vibrates against the table and as Alex’s name appears across the screen, a smile pulls at my lips. Grabbing my phone, I unlock the screen as I glance down at his text, and my smile turns into a beaming grin.

  Alex - I’m taking you out on Saturday night, and if you even think of telling me no, I won’t hesitate to kick down your fucking door and drag you out by the teeth.

  Kyah - Wow. Drag me out by the teeth, huh? Sounds brutal. But to be honest, I pictured you more as a collar and leash kinda guy.

  Alex - Don’t fucking tempt me.

  Kyah - Down boy!

  Alex - Yes or no, Mace? I need to know if I have to stop by the pet store to grab a leash.

  Kyah - Are you suggesting that you already own the collar?

  Alex - Wouldn’t you like to know.

  Kyah - I think you have a whole bunch of dirty little secrets that I’d like to know. But to answer your question, yes. You can take me out, but you better blow my mind. Otherwise, I’m not giving you another chance.

  Alex - Liar.

  Alex - Your new collar will be waiting for you when you get home.

  I laugh to myself, placing my phone back onto the table as my next client strides through the door. Then just as I get him settled into my chair with the design I spent nearly three hours on last week stenciled onto his skin, my phone buzzes with another notification, only this is a sound I’ve never heard before.

  My brows furrow, and as I scoop up my phone, I realize it’s my new security system alerting me that my alarm is going off, and I suck in a gasp, quickly unlocking my phone and checking the security footage to watch in real time as Alex breaks into my apartment and looks directly up toward the camera, a wicked grin on his face.

  “What the hell?” I mutter to myself just as he reaches up high, having to push up onto his tippy toes, and loops something over the mistletoe monster cock—a fucking collar.

  Looking more than proud of himself, Alex faces the camera again, and damn it, the way he’s staring directly at the camera tells me he’s looking right at me. He fists the hem of his shirt, and as a wicked smirk stretches across his face, he pulls his shirt up, giving me the perfect show. Only when I think he’s about to drop his shirt back into place, those dark, delicious eyes sparkle with silent laughter and he presses his pointer finger right to his useless man-nipple and rubs tight little circles.

  A laugh tears from the back of my throat, and I have to smother my hand over my face to keep from howling like a fucking animal as I watch this ridiculously gorgeous man caress his own nipple, and as stupid as it is, I find myself insanely jealous.

  Alex can’t keep a straight face, and he laughs as his shirt falls back into place, hiding his sculpted abs. With that, he makes his way back out of my apartment, pulling the door closed behind him.

  Unable to help myself, I close out my security app and open a new text.

  Kyah - Since when did you have a key to my apartment?

  Alex - You really think I was going to let my friend replace your door without keeping a key for myself? Come on, Mace. I thought you knew me better than that.

  Kyah - I think we need to discuss boundaries.

  Kyah - Also, the camera feed went a little fuzzy. I’m gonna need a replay of your titty-rubbing technique up close and personal. You know, for educational purposes.

  Alex - Only if I get to see your monster cock thrusting techniques up close and personal. You know, for educational purposes.

  Kyah - You couldn’t handle my monster cock thrusting techniques.

  Alex - Wanna bet? Bring that bastard over to my place.

  Kyah - I would, but some asshole mistook it for a ceiling fan.

  Alex - Shit. He sounds like a real prick.

  Kyah - The biggest!

  21

  KYAH

  Alex’s hand rests in mine, his arm looped over my shoulder as we make our way along the East River, gazing out toward the Brooklyn Bridge, and despite having lived here my whole life, I’m blown away. I love my home. It’s so damn beautiful, especially at night. There’s just something magical about the lower Manhattan skyline and seeing the way the city lights sparkle against the darkened sky.

  It’s everything. I don’t know if it’s an age thing or maybe I’ve just been too busy trying to build a life for myself, but I don’t think I’ve ever taken a moment to stop and appreciate its beauty. The fact that I get to do it with Alex right beside me only makes it that much better.

  I’ve never been so giddy, and it has everything to do with the way he looks at me. It’s as though I’m the most tempting snack he’s ever been offered, but at the same time, I can tell he wants to know everything about my life and how I ended up here. Alex actually listens as though he’s hanging on every word, not just trying to make small talk like most guys on a first date, and it does something to me.

  Every time his fingers brush over my skin, I’m left with a trail of goosebumps where he touches me. When he leans in closer and murmurs something a little risqué in my ear, I can’t help but bite my bottom lip and discreetly try to clench my thighs together.

  I’ve never experienced anything like this, and it scares the crap out of me. If I’m not careful, I’m going to fall hard and fast. But Alex isn’t the kind of man to stand back and let me fall. No, he’s the kind who’s going to strap a helmet to my head and push me right off the edge. But he’ll jump right along with me, holding my hand the whole way down.

  “Are you sure you really want to know all of this?” I ask him as we slowly trail along the river’s edge, making our way back toward our apartment complex after leaving one of the most delicious Italian restaurants I’ve ever been to. “It’s really not that interesting.”

  “I meant what I said, Kyah,” he grumbles, his hand tightening in mine. “I want to know everything there is to know about you. So quit stalling and give me what I want.”

  I laugh. “You mean the way you’ve been giving me what I want for the past two weeks?” I tease. “Oh wait . . . you haven’t.”

  “Don’t make me throw you in the fucking river, Mace,” he warns. “Because I’m going to be really fucking pissed when I have to jump in to get you.”

  My eyes widen at the thought of being tossed into that river. I’m a great swimmer, but the East River isn’t exactly a kiddy pool. It’s more like the kind of river the local mafia would use as a dumping ground.

  When I don’t respond fast enough, Alex dives for my waist, pretending to follow through with his threat. I squeal, darting away from him, but he quickly pulls me right back in, his arm falling back over my shoulder. “Okay, okay,” I laugh, trying to figure out where to start. “I’ve always been a Brooklyn girl. Born and raised—”

  “Siblings?” he questions.

  I scoff. “Who knows,” I tell him. “I never met my father, and judging by the way my mom would talk about him, he was a man-whore who took off the second the pregnancy test came back positive.”

  “Shit. What about your mom?”

  “She, umm . . . I don’t really know how to sum up my mother,” I admit. “I have mixed feelings about her. There were a lot of good times before the bad ones came along. She was a good mom for the most part, you know, when it mattered the most. We didn’t have much. Most of the time she struggled to put food on the table, but in those early years when I was just a kid, she did what she could to give me a good life.”

  “But?” he prompts.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I suppose she got exhausted from always trying to pretend that everything was going to be okay. I got older and could see through her act. After that, I think she just kinda gave up. She stopped smiling,” I tell him, letting out a heavy breath. “Then she stopped asking me how school was and stopped caring who I was hanging out with until eventually, she just stopped coming home altogether.”

  “Fuck. How old were you then?”

  “Seventeen,” I tell him, trying to keep the hurt out of my tone. “But it’s fine. I remember when Mom stopped paying the rent. I came home to find the eviction notice stuck to the door. It’s the first time it really hit me that my mother didn’t give a shit about me anymore, but Nat’s family had pretty much taken me in at that point.”

  Alex leads me away from the East River and across the road as we get closer to our building. “So, how’d you end up at High Voltage Ink?”

  A fond smile stretches across my face as I recall the day so perfectly. “Nat and I had been getting into a little bit of trouble, and her parents were at their breaking point. They told me it was time to go. I was walking the streets, terrified that I was about to spend my first night on the street when I walked past High Voltage Ink. It was a stormy night and it was the only storefront that offered a little bit of shelter from the rain, and before my ass could even hit the front stoop, Big Jim was hauling me inside,” I tell him, pausing a moment as the memories come flooding back.

  “Viper had only recently been promoted to Vice President of the Grim Reapers and was just starting to really experiment with ink. Big Jim had been working on him when he dragged me in there looking like a drowned rat,” I say, a stupid smile resting on my lips. “Crew had been there that day too, though despite what he always said, it took him a little while to warm up to me, and as Big Jim worked on Viper, he gave me something to eat and demanded to know why the hell someone as young as me was wandering the streets so late at night. The rest is history. He gave me a job, and I’ve just recently learned that Viper is the reason I have my apartment. They looked after me. Big Jim, Viper, and Crew, they’re my family. At least . . . Crew was.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pulling me in closer as we near our building. “Losing family is never easy.”

  I glance up, meeting his gaze. “Are you referring to your mom?”

  Alex scoffs. “Fuck no,” he says. “My foster brother, Landon. We were together for a few years when I was around ten or so and got really close. He was being abused by our foster father, and I didn’t find out until I was reading his suicide letter.”

  I suck in a gasp, horror spreading through my veins, unable to imagine just how terrible that would have been. The guilt for not having known or being able to do anything to help him while so young . . . shit. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my heart breaking for Landon.

  Alex nods as we reach our building and he reaches out to hash in the access code. “It was a long time ago,” he tells me as if trying to shrug it off, not wanting to linger on something so painful.

  Not wanting to push him on it, I let the topic fall away, hoping that one day when he’s ready or if he feels he needs to talk about it, he’s comfortable enough to open up to me. Instead, I give him a beaming smile as he holds the door open for me.