“You clearly looked me up, but…” Her beautiful face was filled with so much confusion that I hated I was the one who had caused it. “Why? I know you can find anything out about anyone, but why me?”
To tell her she was my fated mate, my Coveted Female, a title deemed, handed out by fucking destiny itself, would have been the easiest explanation. But she was human and not ready for all that, wouldn’t be able to mentally or emotionally handle it. Or maybe she was. Maybe I should just spit it all out, like ripping a Band-Aid off. Quick and easy. I’d deal with the fallout afterward.
It would’ve been so much easier if she was from my world—an Otherworlder. She’d understand the undeniable bond we had. But even as I thought about that, I knew I didn’t want her to be anyone but her. Fate, destiny—if I even fucking believed in that shit—had given me a fragile, beautiful human for a reason, a perfect connection, and an undeniable bond that only we’d ever share.
“I saw you in my club. And I knew you’d be mine.” I shrugged again. “So of course I'm going to find out every little piece of information I could about you, Kayla.”
She was shaking her head, maybe trying to convince herself this wasn’t as crazy and fucked up as it actually was. “Just like that, huh?” Although she phrased it like a question, I could tell she was speaking to herself and not looking for my confirmation.
But I would have gladly fucking given it to her, craved that truth in my chest so there was no denying what I said.
“As far as finding out who you are, well—” I shrugged. “It’s easy enough to find out anyone’s information in this day and age of technology right at your fingertips.” My explanation wasn't a lie, but it also wasn’t the entire story either. I’d told her I wouldn’t lie, and I wouldn't. Never to her, never in my life. I didn't need to fabricate the truth. I had enough power at my fingertips that the hard, cold, and brutal truth was the only way to go about living in my world.
“I make it my business to know who enters my club.” I stared at her for a prolonged moment, surprised and appreciative as hell that she wasn’t shying away, that she was now looking at me right in the eyes and waiting for me to continue. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve looked up people who’ve come into my club before.” Of course not for the reason I did for you. Not because I had the intention of stalking them or breaking into their house and watching them sleep because the primal part of me needed to be there to protect them.
No, my sweet female, the lengths I’d gone to find out every little shred of information was just for you.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Why were you at my house tonight?” Her brows lowered again in confusion, and she looked around the room, as if it would give her answers. “Is it even still tonight? God, this is so insane.” She lifted her hand to rub her temple, her eyes closing briefly.
She fluttered her eyelids open and looked at me, an almost desperate expression on her face and deep in those gorgeous green eyes of hers. I found myself taking a step toward her, every part of my body wanting to do nothing but comfort her. It was a foreign feeling for me, emotions and actions that went against the very grain of the bastard I was. But they were there, front and center, my priority.
“Dawn will be cracking in a few hours. You haven’t been here very long.”
She exhaled as if that were a relief, and maybe it was. Maybe, to her, knowing she’d only been unconscious and in a strange place for a short while eased her panic.
“I was at your house tonight for the simple fact that I could, because I wanted to be close to you.” I saw the way her pulse jumped in her throat because of my words.
She licked her lips and averted her gaze. “Where am I, exactly?”
“My home.”
She looked at me then and lifted a brow. “Obviously. But where?”
I smirked. “Outside of Ryeka, on a fuck of a lot of acres of land, and out in the middle of nowhere.”
She nodded slowly and looked around, her focus stopping on the window that was covered by heavy drapes. But she wouldn’t see anything, even if it weren’t pitch-black and the drapes were pulled. I had heavy shutters installed over the windows, ones that came down automatically as soon as the fucking sun rose.
I’d bought this land decades ago, before the city had grown to the size it was, before they started putting businesses on every fucking street corner. Then I’d had this big-as-fuck house—too big for just me, if I was being honest—built. I’d installed the window shutters to protect me and my soldiers from that ball of fucking death.