Deadly Oath

15. Sabrina

15

SAbrINA

W hen I wake up, Kian isn’t here.

I know I shouldn’t have expected him to be, but my heart drops all the same, disappointment filling me. I sit up, scrubbing my hands over my face, and I look at the smooth space on the bed where he was last night before I passed out.

He must have done what he said he was going to do—gone outside to scout around—and not come back after. I try to think past my disappointment that he didn’t spend the night, and think more clearly about what that might mean. When I do, a spike of fear jabs in my gut.

I reach for my phone, and quickly type out a text.

Sabrina: I get why you didn’t stay. But can you at least let me know you’re safe???

A few minutes pass, as I sit there staring down at my phone, mentally cataloging all the ways I’m sore this morning. I can feel a softly bruised sensation between my thighs, and it oddly turns me on. It’s a reminder of how viciously passionate Kian was with me last night, how badly he wanted me. How alive and real that made me feel.

Kian: Good morning to you, too, princess. I’m fine.

Sabrina: Did you find anyone? Anything?

Kian: There’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s fine. I’ve got it under control.

Sabrina: So there wasn’t anyone there?

Kian: You don’t need to worry. Just go about your day. I’ll see you around.

I stare down at my phone, uncertainty washing over me. He didn’t say exactly that there wasn’t anyone outside, and my stomach twists with anxious dread.

Sabrina: So there was someone? Kian, you can’t leave me hanging like this.

I wait and wait, but he doesn’t text back. I briefly consider calling him, but that won’t make him answer, and the idea of it makes me feel slightly like a crazy person. Especially considering how things changed between us last night.

I know, deep down, that this is how things go for people who didn’t grow up the way I did. Sometimes, a first time isn’t an earth-shattering moment. Sometimes, a guy doesn’t stay the night. Sometimes, it’s all very casual and at-arm’s-length, and I’ll see you around is a normal response to get after a hookup.

This is all strange to me, but it’s not Kian’s problem that I don’t know how to navigate it, and I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s thinking right now. It was a hot, passionate, mind-melting encounter, but it was just sex, and it will stay that way until we both want to see each other again.

Dragging myself out of bed, I head to the kitchen for my usual bland breakfast and coffee. I don’t have plans today other than my book club meeting tonight, and I use the time to get some of my editing work done that I’ve fallen behind on. Kian has been a distraction, and while he’s a welcome one, I’ve let it get in the way of the schedule I had started to build for myself.

By five, Kian still hasn’t texted. I take another shower, noticing the small red mark at the base of my throat that must be from his mouth last night, and throw on jeans and my sunflower-patterned sweater again. Marie is right on the dot to pick me up, and the moment I get into the minivan, she clocks the mark on my neck.

“Had another date?” she asks with a grin, and if I’d had any intention of lying, it’s instantly lost when my face heats. “Okay, that’s a yes.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah, we went out to the diner for dinner. And the bar. He showed me how to line dance.”

Marie makes an excited sound, bouncing a little in the driver’s seat as she turns towards Cindy’s house. “ Yes . I’m so happy for you. Are you going to see him again? And how did you get that ?” She gestures toward my neck, and I feel the color in my face deepen. “Did you two?—”

I manage a nod, my throat too tight with nervous embarrassment to say anything, and Marie lets out a squeal.

“Oh my god, you have to tell me everything . But wait until we get to book club. The others are going to want to hear about it, too.”

I cringe back in my seat a little, my pulse kicking up a notch in my throat at the idea of being surrounded by all these women that I barely know, eager for details of a sex life that I’ve barely started. This is odd to me—the women that I knew back in Chicago, who were a part of my friend group or orbited it, didn’t want to talk about their experiences with their husbands. There was nothing good or exciting to discuss, no air of eager secret-sharing. Their husbands had been picked for them, with no thought for desire or affection, and they weren’t happy with the physical side of things. It was something to get past, not whisper about excitedly.

“I don’t think Cindy is going to want to hear about it,” I manage, twisting the hem of my sleeves around my fingers. “She didn’t seem too pleased the last time we all chatted about this.”

“That’s because she’s jealous.” Marie waves a hand. “But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want to know all the secrets.” She grins. “She’s not immune to gossip just because she wishes it was her.”

I’m not so sure. But it doesn’t matter, because Daphne’s eager eye notices the mark on my neck as soon as we walk in, and instantly, there’s a clamor for details.

I don’t know how much I want to share. But then again, what’s the point in keeping it to myself? This is what normal people do, I remind myself, and I try to tamp down my embarrassment as the questions are fired at me.

“We hooked up—part of the way, after we went out a few nights ago to the diner and the Crow Bar,” I tell them, my fingers clenched tightly around my mug of hot cider. “It was really good,” I admit on an exhale, and Daphne grins eagerly.

“On a scale of how many times he made you come, how good was it?” she asks, as Marie leans over and swats her.

“ Daphne .”

“What? I want to know. Is he just all looks, or does he have the tongue to back it up?” She wiggles hers, and I catch myself laughing in spite of myself.

“Twice,” I admit. “And twice last night, when we went all the way.”

“ All the way ,” Cindy cackles. “You sound like you’re in high school, Sabrina. Was it your first time, too?”

I blanch, hearing the bite in her words, and I know everyone notices the way I flinch back. I’d been prepared to say that it was, to tell these women about my first time in a way that I would never have gotten to share in my old life, but Cindy’s acerbic comment makes me wonder if I actually want to at all.

“Sabrina,” Marie says gently, and when I look at her, I realize for the first time since Caldwell dumped me in this town that I do have a friend here. Cindy is looking at me with undisguised jealousy, and Daphne is looking at me with an eager hunger to know more, a look that’s reflected by varying degrees in the eyes of the other women sitting around us. But Marie’s face is soft, open—worried about me. “ Was it your first time?”

Something burns in my throat. I nod, quickly, realizing that I’m fighting back tears. But I do not want to cry. Not in front of Cindy, who I know would enjoy that. “Yeah,” I manage, my voice a little croaky. “I think I’ve mentioned before that I was pretty sheltered, before I moved here. This is my first time doing—any of this. All of it.” I swallow hard. “It was really good.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asks, her voice still soft, a sisterly note—or maybe motherly—in it. “He didn’t hurt you, or?—”

My face flushes at that. Yes, but I liked it, is not something I can say here. It’s not something I can really imagine saying at all—I can’t even admit to Kian how much I like what he does to me. I can barely admit it to myself.

Cindy is still staring at me from across the circle of couches and chairs with a jealous gleam in her eyes. Daphne clears her throat in a blatant attempt to pull everyone back to the reason we’re actually here.

“So, has everyone caught up to the chapters we’re supposed to be on?” she asks, and the murmur of assent around the room drags everyone’s attention away from me and the gossip about what happened with Kian.

On the way home, Marie pries a little more, but I assure her that Kian didn’t hurt me, and it was good. “He didn’t stay the night, though,” I say slowly, wondering if she can give me any insight into that. It was the last thing I wanted to admit at the book club meeting, considering how the conversation had gone, but I feel like I can tell Marie. Which, once again, makes me feel that maybe I do have a friend here, after all.

Marie’s mouth twists, as she turns into my driveway. “Maybe he’s just scared,” she says finally. “Men aren’t good with emotions. Goodness knows my husband isn’t. You said it was intense, right? So maybe it was just that intensity. He’ll come around. If that’s what you want?” She peers at me as she parks the minivan in front of my house. “It doesn’t have to be serious, you know. This is your first time doing all of this. It can just be a good time.”

I nod. “I know. I think that’s really all it is.” I don’t let myself think too hard about how jealous I feel when I imagine him touching another woman the way he touches me, or that feeling I had of wanting to be special to him. Different. “It’ll be fun while it lasts,” I add, and I know I’m trying to convince myself as much as her.

“Text me if you need anything,” Marie says, patting my hand as I reach for my purse. “And don’t let him talk you into anything you don’t actually want to do.”

That does make me smile—and makes me feel a little better. “I will,” I promise, before getting out of the car and heading inside.

The house is quiet and still, enough to make the hair on my arms prickle, and I wonder once again if I should consider getting some kind of pet. A cat, maybe. But after how much my life has been upended, I’m loath to bring anything else into it that I could get attached to.

Except for Kian. I seem to have brought him into my life at an alarming pace, with a recklessness that’s unlike anything I’ve ever done in my life before. But he’s been relentless, making me feel alive for the first time in—maybe ever . I hadn’t realized just how bland and repetitive my life was until he appeared in it.

I ate enough snacks at the book club meeting that I’m not hungry, so I take the book that we’re currently reading instead and crawl into bed early. My phone has been silent all day except for texts from Marie, with nothing from Kian, and I try not to think about why that might be. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt, but I tell myself that I’m asking too much. That he’s just making sure we keep things casual.

After a little while, I start to feel tired and drift off, only to be woken by what sounds like a shuffling outside my window. I think I’m dreaming at first, but I hear it again, and jolt awake, sitting very still as I wait to see if it’s just a dream .

There’s another sound, very much like footsteps, and I bolt out of bed, my heart hammering.

If someone is really outside of my house, sneaking around, I need more than just a picture of a boot print. I need to see if I can get a glimpse of who it actually is.

And more than that, I’m starting to get tired of being afraid. I was promised I’d be safe here, or as close to safe as it was possible for me to be. I don’t want to sit around and wait for Kian to tell me what’s happening.

I never knew what was happening in my old life, and look where it got me.

Quietly, leaving all the lights in the house off, I pad to the front door. I open the door slowly, wincing at the small creak that it makes, and slip out onto the front steps.

My heart is beating hard in my chest as I step out into the yard. The air is chilly, raising the hairs on my arms as I wrap them around myself and move quietly through the grass, towards the back of the house. I don’t know what I’m really trying to accomplish here, other than getting a glimpse of whoever is creeping around my house. The smarter thing would have been to stay inside—but I don’t want to just huddle in my bed, flinching at every noise and jumping at my own shadow.

Staying out of trouble, staying away from danger, being the ‘good girl’---none of that saved me the last time someone wanted me hurt. I don’t think it will save me now. And I don’t want to depend on Kian to my detriment.

A man has been the only reason I survived once before. I don’t want to sit around and wait to see if that happens a second time.

As I get closer to the edge of the house, I don’t see anything in the darkness. Maybe I was overreacting this time, I think, shifting closer to the window, when I hear something behind me. A crack, like someone stepped on a branch.

I jump, clapping a hand to my mouth to stifle a gasp as I skitter backward—and directly into a hard chest and pair of arms that go around me instantly .

There’s no stopping the scream that escapes my lips. No stopping the terror that runs through me in the instant that I’m caught—until I suck in a breath after the scream and smell Kian’s familiar scent of woodsy aftershave and campfire smoke cologne.

“Easy there, princess,” he says with a chuckle, and I twist in his arms, relief blurring into anger as I try to jerk away from him.

It’s useless. He holds me close, turning me so that I’m facing him, and I can see him looking down at me in the near-darkness. His muscles are wound tight, and his blue eyes look black in this lighting.

“What the hell are you doing skulking around my house?” I shout, forgetting about my neighbors nearby who might be woken up by all the noise. “What the hell, Kian! You can’t text me or tell me what’s going on, but you can sneak around?—”

“I’ve been busy today,” he says curtly, his arm still wrapped tightly around my waist to keep me from running—or from getting a swing in on him. “Trying to figure out what’s going on with this exact problem. As for right now, I was just checking the perimeter, making sure no one else was peeking in your windows. I figured you’d be asleep and didn’t want to wake you.” His expression tightens. “I didn’t expect that you’d be foolish enough to come investigating in the night alone. What if it hadn’t been me, Sabrina?”

The way he uses my actual name tells me that he’s upset with me. But I’m also upset with him , so right now, I can’t bring myself to really care.

“Then I’d be having a very different conversation with a very different person,” I tell him tartly. “But let’s go back to the part where you said no one else . What’s going on, Kian? Did you find someone?”

He hesitates, and I glare at him, jerking back from his grasp once more. This time, he lets me go. “ Kian .”

“Fine.” He throws up his hands. “I was trying to handle the situation, Sabrina, so that you wouldn’t have a reason to be afraid. I didn’t want you to know that I actually found someone lurking outside the house after I left the other night.”

Cold fear clenches in my belly, but after hearing him say that, I don’t want to let it show. “And that’s worse than me just sitting inside, hearing noises, and thinking of all the possible things that they could be?” I cross my arms under my chest, trying to ignore the way Kian’s gaze instantly falls to my breasts. “I’d rather know what’s happening, Kian.”

The heat between us has fled for the moment, the chilly night air creeping in instead. I look up at him determinedly, refusing to back down. “You don’t get to keep secrets from me about my own life,” I tell him flatly. “I need to know. I want to know.”

He huffs out a breath that clouds the air between us, running a hand through his hair. “ Fine ,” he says, his expression as irritated as mine is. “When I went outside to check on things after I left you, I found a man back here, about to look in your window. I grabbed him and took him back to the station.”

“And?” I press, and Kian’s eyes narrow. I can tell his patience with me is beginning to run thin, but I can’t bring myself to really care at this particular moment. I want to know what’s going on.

“I questioned him.” There’s something evasive in his tone, and I latch onto it.

“What do you mean, questioned him?” I’m not naive to the ways that men like my father’s enforcers questioned people that they thought had answers for them. My father tried to shield me from it, but I still heard things.

But Kian isn’t a Bratva enforcer. He’s a sheriff . A small town law enforcement agent. The kinds of tools my father’s men employed would never be a part of anything he would do. I can’t imagine it.

Can’t I ? Kian might be a sheriff in Rivershade, but I think of the hungry man who barged into my house, another man’s blood still flaking off of his knuckles. Couldn’t I imagine that man doing something more brutal than just asking questions?

“I got some information from him,” Kian says flatly. “He’s not someone you need to worry about, Sabrina. It’s a law enforcement matter, and I’ll deal with it.”

“Is he still at the jail?” I ask, and once again, Kian hesitates. “That answers that. I want to see him.”

“What? No.” Kian shakes his head. “Absolutely not. ”

“I want to see if he’s anyone that I recognize.”

“Why would he be?” Kian challenges, and my stomach tightens.

I don’t want to tell Kian about who I was before this. We’re not there yet, and I don’t know if we ever will be. Right now, I only want him to see me for what my present is, not my past.

Although right now, I’m so angry with him that I don’t really care how he sees me at all.

“You’re not being very forthcoming,” I tell him tightly. “So I don’t need to be either. But I want to see the man who tried to break into my house—or was snooping around it, at the very least. You can take me there now, just the two of us, or I can show up tomorrow at the station and make a scene.”

I tighten my arms around myself, tipping my chin up as I look at Kian defiantly. “But either way, I’m going to see him.”