Page 19 of The Darkest Chase

Or is he just wondering what the hell is wrong with me?

He pulls away, just as I tilt my head back to look up at him. His hand untangles from mine and my fingers fall away from his chest, leaving me feeling oddly chilled.

He’s not looking at me now. He’s looking over my head, toward the crowd still lingering along the sidewalk and the edge of the square.

Or is he looking past them at something else? There’s a sudden burst of black crows taking off from a nearby lamppost.

“She’ll be fine. Move along now, people,” he says with a flash of annoyance. His cool, dry voice projects authority.

I’m grateful.

I really am.

I’m so flipping tired of people gawking like I’m going to die right in front of them.

I’m going to be okay.

Sure, I passed out, but my head feels clearer now. I’m only a little sore from banging my hip and my elbows when I fell.

My legs are steady. I think I can walk.

I test my balance, bending to pick up my purse and my portfolio, gathering my scattered belongings back into my plain leather shoulder bag. I don’t get dizzy when I dip down. There’s a little head rush when I stand, but that’s normal enough.

When I rise, I find Officer Ainsley watching me closely.

Why do I feel like I’m being watched by a hungry animal? Even after he inclines his head politely, his eyes shuttering over as he gestures toward the café up the street.

“After you, Miss Grey.”

“Talia!” I correct again. “You said it before.”

He doesn’t say anything.

He just moves silently at my back, this pale shadow of a man trailing in my wake, making me feel so warm and haunted as we make our way to Red Grounds.

4

DARKEST LIGHT (MICAH)

Talia damn Grey.

I roll the name on my tongue silently as I follow her back to Red Grounds. I’m watching her closely, making sure she’s steady, I tell myself.

Making sure she’s not downplaying any injuries worse than she cares to admit.

Seems like her pantyhose took more of a beating than she did, thankfully. There’s a long rip in the sheer material, stretching from her ankle to the hem of her skirt, baring a strip of pale freckle-dotted skin.

I shouldn’t fucking notice that.

I only glance for medical reasons.

Medical. Reasons.

Good thing she’s walking steadily enough, this slender pink slip of a woman who must get off on looking like strawberry shortcake.

The girl has a quick stride like a doe. She almost trips when she gets to the mess of coffee and empty cups I left splattered on the sidewalk.

Her pretty face contorts.