"I was worried you were bored of me," Skylar mumbled into his broad chest.

"Never," he nearly snapped. "I could never be bored of you."

"I just thought--"

"Skylar," he pulled her chin up to look at him. They were still fighting to catch their breath, sweaty and tired, legs intertwined on the couch. "Sometimes work wears on me, but don't take it personal. I'm here because I want to be here. With you."

-------

She'd been ripped back to consciousness from whatever nightmare plagued her sleep, but she remembered none of it. Seeing her sweat soaked sheets and tear stained pillow, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it had been. It was still pitch black outside, the street lamps glowed with dull lights, and somewhere down the street a garbage can dumped over and echoed down the lane. She glanced at her alarm clock. It was nearly three in the morning.

The sound of her phone buzzing made her nearly fall out of bed.

Never. 

A tired smile split across her face at Bear's message. He'd taken her home that night, not believing a word she said about having a ride, and making sure to shake her father's hand when he'd arrived. Her dad, to his credit, kept a mutual expression and thanked Bear for bringing her home safely. The conversation had shifted to work, and before she knew it, both men were laughing and discussing topics that were beyond her comprehension. 

In the end, Bear had kissed her cheek and left, and she had to hear from her dad how great of a guy he was. The initial shock of seeing his boss date his daughter--really seeing anyone date his daughter--had worn off and reality settled in. 

As her dad put it, he'd seen the punk kids walking around these days, and Bear was far from it. He's a keeper. Don't let him get away. Her mother's wisdom had been all she could stand before crawling into bed. Every inch of her body was aching and felt so, so hollow without him there. Without him inside her.

She'd touched herself before falling asleep. Thought only of Bear, and how good he'd felt--how perfect--and she'd touched herself. She rolled over to go back to sleep when she heard it: a scraping sound from outside her bedroom door.

Her parents were home. Surely they would hear anything suspicious before she did. That's what parents did after all. Shadows darkened beneath her door, and she covered her mouth, reaching for her cell phone on the nightstand. The shadow moved away from her door and continued on down the hall. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

A shuddering breath released from her and she snatched up her phone. The door to her parents room creaked open and she relaxed. It was only her mom, or maybe her dad, likely getting a glass of water. She sighed, looking back at her clock. She was thirsty too. After all that panting and moaning and screaming, her throat was raw.

Skylar padded to her door and cracked it open. The hall was black. Not a sound could be heard save for the buzzing of the fridge and the occasional floor heaters kicking on to stay the November cold. She stumbled over a footstool left behind and armchair and caught herself on the back of it. 

No one stirred in her parents' room. She flicked on the kitchen light and squeezed her eyes shut at the instant brightness. Blindly, she found a glass from the cupboard and filled it at the sink. She gulped it down and shivered at the taste in her mouth that rose to the surface--his taste. She leaned on the counter, gaining steadiness, as her legs wobbled. She wanted to feel him again, to feel him taking his time to make sure every part of her had been touched and licked and pleasured. 

He was nothing like the three that came before him. Those had been selfish lovers, uncaring for whether she reached her high or not, and she never did. But Bear...he made her body sing--worked her like an instrument he'd spent his entire life learning how to play. Heat pooled at her center. Her fingers inched down the front of her shirt, to the waistband of her shorts, and she gave in to her imagination. Biting her lip to keep quiet, Skylar found the slickness between her thighs and her body thrummed with satisfaction.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

She ripped her hand out of her pants, and went back to drinking her water. Half expecting to see her mom or dad wondering why she was up so late, she turned around and leaned back on the counter. 

It wasn't either of her parents. A scream, unlike any she'd ever let out, ripped through her and the glass dropped to the ground. Glass shattered, cutting the sides of her feet, but she barely felt it. The warm blood trickling down her ankles was the only indication that she'd injured herself. All of her attention was pointed at the figure standing in the archway of her kitchen.

Bear dressed head to toe in black, but this was different. This was menacing. 

The man in her kitchen was tall, not as tall as Bear, but easily towered over her. His hands were gloved in leather, his face hidden beneath a hooded sweatshirt, and his long legs were wrapped in black jeans. Her mouth went dry, and she only then realized the severe absence of her parents rushing to see what the noise had been. "Mom! Dad!" she screamed.

The man didn't flinch and he lifted his head so that she could see his wicked grin. "Dad!" She tried to step to the side and hissed. Glass sliced under her foot and blood gushed from the wound. The pain sent her tumbling to the ground, hands out to catch her fall. Bits of glass wedged into her palms and she cried out.

"Shh," he cooed, crunching over glass to stoop in front of her.

Skylar whimpered, scrambling back until she hit the cupboards. "Get out!" she screamed. He made no move to go. A tremor of fear slid down her back as he bent low and pressed one gloved finger to the ground where a drop of her blood had splattered. She watched in abhorrence while he lifted the bloody digit to his exposed lips and sucked. Her words stuck in her throat when he shivered. He grinned once more--red glistening on his cruel lips. 

He had tasted her blood. "Dad!" she screamed, her words choking as she sobbed desperately. "Dad!"

"Shh," he repeated. "They won't wake until morning." His voice--deja vu hit her and she blanched. His gloved hand reached up to stroke her cheek, wiping the tear away that had fallen.

"Please don't hurt me," she whispered.

He laughed deep and guttural. "So soft," he commented and she was unsure if he meant her skin or her demeanor.

"Please--"

"Shh," he hushed her, putting his bloodied fingers to her lips, smearing it over her mouth. She winced at the metallic taste. His free hand went into his pocket and pulled out a long, silver oblong thing. He hit a switch and a glinting blade flicked out.

Skylar screamed and squirmed away, glass slicing and piercing her flesh as she bolted along the linoleum. She barely reached the arch way before his hand snaked around her throat and brought her flush against his chest. The knife flashed in front of her, shining in the light. "No!" she cried. "Please, no!"

He brought the knife to her throat, replacing his hand with it and cackled at her pleas. "Shh."

"Don't do this, please, don't do this," she begged. Everything in her vibrated with cold terror. The knife traced along her neck, down to the hollow of her throat, and back up.

He clicked his tongue at her whimpers. "Shh," he cooed again. 

"Why are you doing this?" She braved to speak above a whisper. Her hands went up to grab his wrists, clawing at them, and flinched. His arms were as hot as blue flames under her fingers. The contact snapped something in him and he growled, the knife skittered to the floor and she lunged. 

Her hand gripped the silver handle and she whirled on him, holding it out like pointing stick. The man chuckled in amusement. "What are you going to do with that?" He gestured to the knife.

"Get out!" she shouted. "Get the fuck out of my house!"

His lips curled into a sneer and she wished he'd take off that damn hood so she could see his face. "You think you scare me? I'll rip your goddamn throat out." His teeth barred and he took a step toward her. His hand reached out to grab her, but she was fast. She sliced the knife outward and felt it cut into his forearm. 

She gasped at the angry roar he let out as his sleeve tore and fell away. Pale skin coated in blue black tattoos caught her eye. He moved, quicker than she could see, and had the knife back in his hand.

Skylar stumbled back and bolted down the hall to her parents' room. "Mom! Dad!" She feared the worst with how quiet they were. Had he done something to them? Had he used that knife on them before finding her in the kitchen? She sobbed at the thoughts racing through her head. "Dad!" She fell through the bedroom door and onto their bed. "Mom!" 

They were there; sleeping soundly and snoring lightly. Alive. They were alive. "Wake up!" she screamed so loud that the windows shook.

Her dad moved first, launching himself from the bed in a panic. Her mom cried out, "What! What is it! Skylar, oh my--what happened!" 

Skylar whirled around, ignoring her questions and pointed at the door. Hot tears trekked down her face in both relief and fear of the man lurking in the hall. "Someone's in here!" She collapsed to her knees, her parents rushing by her. Her father had already pulled the gun from his nightstand and was loading bullets.

-------

Red and blue flashed even when she closed her eyes. "We haven't found any fingerprints."

"Because he was wearing gloves," Skylar spat at the officer. She'd said it countless times already, and yet they still had the same things to say. "I already told you," she said, gritting her teeth as the paramedics pulled glass from her foot, "he wore leather gloves the whole time."

"Right," the officer coughed. 

"Skylar!" Bear rushed through the crowd of officers to where she sat in back of an ambulance.

"Bear," she breathed in relief, the lump returning to her throat at the sight of raw concern etched into his brow.

He ignored the stout officer and wrapped his arms protectively around her. His heat warmed her, taking away the nightly chill. "Are you okay?" He pulled back, looking at her cut palms, her bleeding feet, and stepped back. His head turned to the side as a drawn out breath loosed from his lips.

"I'm fine now," she assured him. "Someone broke into my house." And then, realizing who was standing in front of her, she asked, "Wait, how did you know?"

Bear cleared his throat, slowly returning to her gaze. "I have my connections everywhere," he explained. As if on queue, an officer strode over to him. His dark blue uniform looked black even in the streetlamps golden glow. 

"Mr. Cruor," he address him formally, "can I speak with you over here?" He nodded his head to the front of the ambulance.

"Of course, Jim," he replied. "I'll be right back." He kissed Skylar's forehead.

She craned her neck around to follow where they went, and strained to listen in. It was useless to even attempt to eavesdrop when there was such a commotion. Four police cars were parked down her street, lights flashing, and drawing the attention of nosey neighbors. A dozen or so officers were talking with them, trying to see if anyone had seen anything suspicious. The ones that weren't conducting interviews were busy cackling to each other and conversing about things not even remotely related to their current task. Her blood boiled.

"You're sure?" She caught wind of Bear's voice. The officer mumbled something unintelligible before Bear came back over to her. "I have a suggestion, and I don't want you to freak out."

That wasn't a good way to start a sentence. She grimaced at what was to come. "What?"

"Stay with me," he said, grasping her hands in his, "just for a few days until this guy gets caught."

Skylar looked around for her parents and found them sitting on the sidewalk leaning on one another. "What? I can't do that," she balked, "I have school and work and--"

"You'll still do all those things, but you'd be safer."

"How? My own parents slept through a home invasion." She looked up at the sky. It was already beginning to lighten as the morning sun crept closer to the horizon. Vermillion and carmine clouds lined the eastern tree line, glowing like a beacon.

Bear sighed and sat beside her. "Just for a few days. Until they catch him."

Skylar scoffed. "Catch him?" She gave him in incredulous look. "They don't have any fingerprints, I didn't even see his face, and--"

Bear gripped her shoulders lightly and forced her to look at him. "Stay with me," he said softly, "just for a couple of days until this is handled."

Skylar's mouth worked to form some sort of reply, but all she could manage was a curt nod of agreement. Bear sagged with relief. "I'm going to go talk to your parents about this. Just wait here."

Raindrops dotted the sidewalk as the skies opened up. In under a minute, it had gone from sprinkling to pouring. The onlookers scuttled back into their homes, opting for the warmth within rather than the frigid cold outside. A few cars cleared off, leaving only the officer Bear had spoken with, and the fat man taking statements. "Your mom is getting some clothes ready for you. The medic said you're good to walk around. No stiches."

He held a hand out to her and helped lift her from the back. She sucked in a breath when her bare feet touched the pavement. The cuts had been bandaged, but they stung awfully when pressure was applied. Bear didn't wait for another sign of her discomfort. He whisked her up into his arms effortlessly and carried her inside. A few police officers lingered within, snapping pictures and documenting what they saw. They passed the kitchen where the broken glass still lay untouched on the floor.

Bear's eyes scanned the hall, but hers never left his face. His sharp jawline clenched, and his nostrils flared when he brought her into her room. He lowered her down on her bed while her mom scurried around, packing things into suitcases and sniffling softly.

"Mom?"

"I'm going to go see if your father needs help with anything," Bear excused himself.

"He's one of the good ones," her mother said just above a whisper. "So thoughtful."

"Are you sure you're okay with me doing this? You can talk to me, Mom. I--I just--"

Her mother twisted around, eyes red and swollen from crying. "You're eighteen, Skylar. You'll be safe with Bear until this monster is put away." And then in a sob she whimpered, "I'm so sorry we weren't there to protect you."

Guilt washed over her. "Mom, it's okay. Don't cry," she pleaded, raising up on her feet to embrace her. "I'm fine, really." She hid her grimace at the pressure on her feet.

Her mother sagged into her, letting her tears flow freely as sobs racked through her body. "I'm so sorry, Skylar," she wailed.

"Everything's okay now."

"Ready?" Bear queried from the doorway. 

Her mother answered for her. "Ready."