The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 11 ~ Cliff

Chapter 11

A chunk of my first week's earnings went into that bottle of Tequila, and I'd be damned if I wasted a drop. Problem with that was, I couldn't leave until it was gone, and as long as I was there, the stranger seemed dead set on peeling away every layer of defense I had.

Halfway down the bottle, I passed the point of simple buzz and entered the territory of stupid and sloppy. My brain stopped sending important signals, like to avoid those intelligent eyes. I studied them in avid and open fascination. "What's it like? Having freaky hawk eyes like that?" My uninhibited tongue rolled around each syllable, and my brain once again sat back as if too busy to do its job.

Said eyes never left my face as he took a swig from his bottle. When he sat it down, the familiar twitch to his lips was almost undetectable. "Depends on what I'm looking at," he said, voice forever smooth and deep.

God. Karma must have known I had my guard up more than ever. She'd gone from big guns to a full arsenal. Forget fork in the road. He was standing along a cliff face, and his voice alone was enough to make me want to jump over the edge. I'd sigh all the way down and hit the ground smile first.

I needed him to stop talking, but I wanted him to recite the alphabet. "Like people in a bar? You choose some pretty depressing shit to use your super ability on, Captain Wilderness." I snorted at my own joke then took a long drink.

"Super ability?" As if he were timing each drink with mine, he took another, then pursed his lips into a half smile as he stared at me. "I don't know about that, but I can tell you one thing. This bar got a whole lot more interesting when you walked into it."

I'd just opened my mouth to shut him down, when raucous laughter pulled my attention to a group of men piling through the door. Leather cuts and rough faces stole my breath, but I couldn't make out any emblems past the patrons and smoke between us. I threw my hood back up, let my hair fall forward, and released my grip on the bottle. "I've got to go," I said, already sliding out of the booth.

"Do you know those men?" His easy tone was gone, replaced by something far more threatening.

I shook my head, eyes fixed on the exit. "I don't know, but I'm not going to wait around and find out." The world tilted when I tried to stand, but one very large hand reached out and steadied me.

He stood, like a hickory, tall and wide and stable. Each one of his muscles tensed and ready. A glance up at his face made my breath catch. Dagger eyes. Clenched jaw. Shoulders squared like a junkyard dog who'd found an intruder after the trash. He pulled me close and all but snarled over me.

I tried to wiggle loose, but his grip tightened and that dark, icy look fixed on me.

"I have to go," I said, words harsh.

He scanned my face, searching, reading. Whatever he found there seemed to focalize him. With one last furtive glance at the men now dominating the bar stools, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pressed me into his side.

We moved like smoke across the back of the bar and drifted out the exit without incident.

The moment the door shut behind us, I heaved a breath. The back alley was shrouded in a darkness that seemed to stretch on for a mile. I turned towards the bridge, but the stranger's hold tightened.

I looked up at him. "I have to go." My eyes darted back to the door, ears primed for any sound that may signal the start to my impending fate.

"They didn't see us." His voice was low but rough. "Were they what you're hiding from?"

"I don't know." I broke away from him, and this time, he let me. My legs felt boneless, but I pressed a hand to the cool brick of the building and used it for support.

He kept a slow pace beside me. "Come with me."

"No." Shit! My hand caught onto something sharp. I lifted it up, and stared at the blood inside my palm. It rolled down to my wrist then split apart to circle it. Thanks, Karma. You fucking bitch.

The stranger peered over my shoulder, then grabbed my wrist and pulled it closer. He reached into the back of his jeans, pulled out a worn bandana and used it to wipe the blood away.

The gash was deeper than I'd expected. It split open to reveal the tissue beneath, and I grit my teeth at the realization that It'd need to be stitched. I didn't have the means to do stitches, and I wasn't about to step foot inside a hospital.

The stranger wrapped the cloth tight, then tied it into place. "You didn't even flinch." He stared at me, eyes digging, cutting, searching.

I curled my fingers around the bandage and pulled my hand back to my side. "It didn't hurt," I lied. It'd hurt like a bitch, and it still did, but it wasn't anything I wasn't used to. It wasn't as bad as half the cuts and bruises, the broken bones... I shook my head. "I've got to get back." I looked at him, then wished I hadn't.

"You need stitches." He cupped my elbow, an action far too gentle for his rough exterior.

"Its fine."

His jaw clenched. "I'll do them. Just come with..."

"No." I heaved a breath. "If you want to sew it up, fine. But you can bring it to the bridge."

He stared at me for a long time, and I could tell he wanted to say something else. The bone along his jaw jumped as if the words were literally dancing in his mouth.

I met his hard eyed look with one of my own.

"I'll walk you there and come back," he finally said.

He didn't let go of my elbow, and I didn't make him. When the wall ran out, I needed the support. That, and being in the open made my nerves jump back to attention. My guard lifted into place, and this time, it just didn't feel like enough. I was as vulnerable as a baby in a tiger's cage. I had no defense. No chance.

I stepped closer to his side, accepting, just this once, the protection he had to offer.

He draped an arm over my shoulder, eyes still fixed forward and mouth sealed. I let him pull me into his side, hugged him tighter with mine around his hips. If any of the men were with the club, they'd be less likely to look at a girl already held by a mountain. We looked like two lovers sneaking off to be alone, and that thought brought a small semblance of safety.

We made it through the brush and down the hill, then walked in silence until we reached the bridge.

His thumb traced a small circle against my shoulder. "I'll be right back. Don't leave."

I met his gaze and saw a new emotion. Worry. For me? Jesus, I was in deep shit. "I have nowhere else to go," I said, tone biting. "Whether or not you come back makes no damn difference to me."

Despite my harsh tone, the softness never left his face. "Understood."

I turned away and stumbled towards my spot. If it hadn't been for my drunken legs and need for cover, I would have kept going, ran until I reached the end of the world. My chest tightened the moment I saw those men, and hadn't let off since. But I preferred that all too familiar feeling to the one he'd just caused. Butterflies. Fucking butterflies. I'd damn near swooned, and I didn't have time to do stupid shit like swooning. Swooning was for people who already had lives. Swooning was for the innocent. I was already dead, and a corpse couldn't feel anything accept regret.

I took a seat by the snoring old man and watched the massive shadow retreat into the distance.

He was a cliff's edge, and I was dancing entirely too close.

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