Hotline Bling

Chapter 4

Two years ago (three months after the incident): "What's the point of bringing me here?" Essence asked as she shivered against the autumn wind. Fall had settled in weeks ago and the weather was now bipolar in its entirety.

"Cause you like to run and the only way I can keep you is to kidnap you." Roman joked, though there was a bit of seriousness to his tone.

Essence frowned, this guy had a lot of nerve. She had been avoiding him constantly. After being so close to death she had resolved that it would be best to stay away from guys who decided that drugs were the come up. And Roman, no matter how fast he made her heart flutter or her breath catch, was one of those guys. He was deep into the drug game and though he was only eighteen he was already widely known. He had sidled his way up the hood royalty ladder and was steadily climbing it at his young age.

Being with him only put fear in her, she could still remembered vividly the way he had fired rounds into King, killing him with no real remorse. She couldn't help but think, behind the handsome face and deep probing eyes that seemed so much older than his years, that he was a monster in human form.

He wrapped an arm around her waist possessively and she shivered harder than before, his touch brought a chill throughout her whole entire body and she flinched away from him, smacking his hands away. "Stop touching me." She snapped at him with shy eyes.

He smiled at her, his teeth even and white. He rubbed at the stumble on his chin, a habit that he did whenever he was in deep thought or filled with amusement.

He suddenly raised his hands in defeat but, contradictory to his actions, took a large step toward her, invading her space. She stood rigid, staring at him with wide fearful eyes. She was scared of him. She was scared of the ruthlessness in which he was capable of. She was scared of the things he made her feel.

She was scared of the admiring glint in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

It terrified her...she wanted to be loved more than anything, after growing up without a loving embrace or pieces of happy kisses, but it frightened her to think that someone out there could actually fulfill her wishes.

Her feelings were a contradiction all their own and yet she couldn't help the way she felt.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart beating in her ears as he came closer and closer to her, filling her space with a strong, wonderful masculine musk that was solely his and his alone.

Butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach at his closeness and before she could stop herself she turned on her heel and sprinted away. She wasn't used to this. She wasn't used to someone voluntarily giving her attention. She wasn't used to anyone wanting her for her. It frightened her to think that what she had so yearned for all her life was something she could not actually handle.

Her breath came in short puffs and then she felt a large warm hand grab hold of her and yank her back. She hit the hard wall of his chest and nearly choked against the whoosh of wind that smacked her in the face.

"Why are you always running?" Roman whispered in her ear. His deep voice was like melted caramel and milk chocolate dripping on her skin, it seemed to scorch her as his words dissolved into her ear. She struggled in his grasp but he held her tight.

He had been pursuing her for two months now and still she managed to evade his affection. He didn't know what was up with her but he had to admit he did enjoy the chase. At least he used to. Now he was quite simply tired of the games she was seemingly playing.

He wanted her...and as the days went by the possessiveness he felt for her grew. He saw the fear in her eyes and he didn't like seeing it there. He knew what she thought of him and he knew he could not justify his actions to her or anyone else. He was just another product of the environment, another boy trying to be a man too soon. Though his actions were less than honorable he merely wanted to provide for the family that had been, stereotypically, left behind by a dead beat father. He was the proverbial man of his household and had been since the age of ten.