A Slave to Love

Chapter 7: Unless...

My head shot up, seeing a man reflected in the mirror standing right behind me, his lips suddenly at my neck.

My arm burned like a fire and I slammed my elbow into the guy's chest before I whirled around. He barely even flinched, only stumbled back a step in surprise while my elbow felt as if someone had taken a sledge hammer to it.

I tried not to scream out in agony, so I sucked in a huge gust of air and straightened up, clutching my towel with one hand while I took a defensive stance, my other hand extended palm-out to the stranger in front of me. He would not see me in pain, even though my eyes were tearing up from how badly it hurt and my elbow was throbbing.

"Who are you?" I asked through gritted teeth, water dripping from my hair down my back.

He sighed long-sufferingly, like I was being dramatic. "Robin, please calm down."

"I will not calm down, you creep. What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom? And who the hell is Robin?"

He smirked, stepping forward, forcing me back until my back was against the counter. He had a hand on either side of me, trapping me while my arm kept burning, intensity increasing.

"I'm not a creep, I'm here because I've been dying to see you again." He looked up at me through thick lashes, his red eyes glowing brightly as his breathing grew heavy, "And you're Robin."

I trembled from his proximity, something about him just made me want to just melt into a puddle right then and there. His face was so familiar and beautiful, the glowing red eyes, the full lips, sharp features and messy black hair, but I just couldn't place him, could barely think straight because of my throbbing tattoo.

"My name isn't Robin," I breathed, shrinking back against the counter. Who was this guy? How did he get in my room? Why was he calling me Robin? And more importantly, why wasn't I freaking out or trying to beat him senseless or something?

"I know that, but that's what you told me to call you. Remember?"

"Remember? As far as I know I've never seen you before in my life."

"You don't remember?" he asked doubtfully. "Nothing at all? Damsel in distress? Sinbad and Robin? Our deal to tell each other our names if we ever met again?"

"No? I think you've got the wrong person."

He stared at me, suspicious but uncertain now.

I had no idea what to do. There was a strange man in my bathroom babbling about who knew what, but at the very least he didn't seem dangerous. Just confused. 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said finally, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he stepped back. As soon as he did I wanted to reach out and pull him back.

What the hell was wrong with me? He could be a crazy rapist for all I know.

"You may want to send Katie away or else she may be freaked out," he said, retreating to the back wall of the bathroom.

"No way. I'm not sending her away anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on and how do you know me and Katie!"

"I'll tell you what's going on after you send her away. Do it now."

I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me, or why I decided to listen to this crazy man in my washroom but I turned around, opened the door and poked my head out.

Katie was there, pulling on a pair of sneakers and a light sweater over her t-shirt. I frowned, "Katie?"

She looked up, flushing. "Hey, are you feeling better?"

"Oh yeah, much better," I said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice while I crossed my fingers behind my back, "Are you going out?"

"Um....yes?"