I stretch out on my stomach, pondering the possibilities. “Maybe he wasn’t part of the group,” I say, trying to remain optimistic. “Maybe he just had a tattoo that looked the same. Maybe he was just breaking in to steal stuff and Uncle Ethan scared him off before he could take anything.”

Ayden frowns. “There seems to a lot of maybes.”

“I know.” I sigh and bend my knees so my feet are in the air. “But I still don’t get it. Say he’s one of those people.”

“Soulless mileas,” he mumbles as he sinks to the floor, brings his knees up, and slumps his head against the door. “That’s what they’re called.”

Hearing the name of them makes the situation even more unsettling. “Okay, let’s say he is part of this group and he was the guy outside staring at your window. He’s obviously been watching you and the house, but then why break in when no one’s home? To just go in your room? There had to be a point.”

“Maybe he thought I was in there and was coming after me?”

“Maybe, but Aunt Lila and Uncle Ethan usually turn off all the lights when no one’s home.” I trace my finger across my lips. “What if he was looking for something else besides you?”

“Like what? I don’t have anything. Nothing important anyway.”

“What if he left something then?”

He lifts his head and cocks a brow. “Have you been reading mystery books again?”

“Yeah, so what?” I push up from the bed and kneel down in front of him. “It wouldn’t hurt to look around your room, would it?”

He traces the scars on the back of his hand. “It might.”

“I’ll go look then.” I start to get up.

He snatches hold of my arm and pulls me back down, swiftly shaking his head. “I’m not going to risk your safety over mine.”

“They don’t want me,” I remind him. “I’ll be okay.”

“They want everyone.”  He continues to trace the pale scars, while dazing off over my shoulder. “They came from fingernails.”

“What did?”

“The scars on the back of my hand. That and metal cuffs.” When our gazes weld together, his grey eyes fiercely scorch. “Still want to go over there?”

My lips quiver as I nod, telling myself that it’s just next-door and our parents will be only a yard length away. Everything will be fine. But Ayden seems like he believes the exact opposite, as if at any moment someone is going to charge through the door and steal us both.

“In the morning we’ll check things out,” he says with uncertainty. “I’m not taking you over there when it’s dark. And only hours after the guy was in the house. Besides, maybe the police will catch him by tomorrow.”

“So, what do we do for the rest of the night then? Because we have to do something. Otherwise we’ll just sit around and drive ourselves crazy with worry.” I sound innocent, but my body and mind are hyper aware that we’re in my room with my bed only a few feet away.

He straightens his legs and rises to his feet. “We really could work on a song.”

I perk up. “You want to write one with me?”

“We could try.” He cracks the door, leaving it open like Aunt Lila said. “I’m not sure how well it’ll go, though.”

“I think we might rock it.” I cross the room to my bookshelf. The bottom row is lined with a collection of CDs my dad gave me. “What’s your choice of poison?” I ask as I skim the titles.

He crouches down beside me. “Something relaxing. I don’t think I can handle any more stress tonight.”

“Hmmm…” I thrum my finger against my lips then select a CD. Going over to my nightstand, I open the case, remove the disc, and feed the player my disc.

“What is this?” Ayden walks up behind me, causing my skin to tingle.

The sensation is insignificant to what I felt earlier today on Sage’s couch. My very first orgasm, and it was better than any scenario I’d ever conjured up in my very creative mind.

I skip through the songs and land on one of my favorites. “‘Civilian’ by Wye Oak.”

“Do I get a mark against me because I don’t know them?” He tangles his fingers through my hair and sweeps the strands aside. Then he does something unexpected but amazing. He rests his chin on my shoulder. A gesture so small and plain an outsider wouldn’t think twice about it.

Me, I think a lot about it.

So much my mind sparks like a hot-wired car.

“This is nice.” I rest against his chest and his arms enclose around my waist. His nerves are still evident with the fumbling movement of his hands and his heart pounding against his chest and my back.

He places delicate kisses on my shoulder, savoring the taste of my flesh. My head uncontrollably falls back, my neck arched and exposed, seeking more of his gentle touches.

“Lyric,” he whispers, his mouth moving against the arch of my neck. “I need you to promise me one thing.”

I bob my head up and down, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as my eyelashes flutter. I would promise him anything right now.

“Promise me that if this gets to be too much—if at any point you feel like I’m bringing you down—you’ll walk away.”

“That will never happen.”

“Just promise me, okay. I need to know that I’ll never ruin the amazing person that you are.”