LEAVE ME ALONE

8. why are you scared?

AS soon as he stepped from the darkness inside the bar, he wanted to collapse beneath the scorching pressure of the sun. His eyes seared and he hissed in pain, jerking back into the shadows beneath the awning, glaring daggers as Sadie whirled around in surprise.

Marshall had changed, there was just no denying it anymore. His skin had the gray, washed-out look of a corpse; the deep glaze over his eyes that would've been an immediate tell of drug use, yet Sadie knew that he was coherent, focused and in full control of himself—whatever that control may look like. His stance was rigid and tense, broad shoulders straightened as he cocked his head to the side, assessing her, her body, her fragility. There was a subtle definition in his muscles, networks of thick veins roaming over his arms and grazing beneath the skin of his knuckles—he looked bigger, Sadie decided. Stronger. He had always been a tall guy, got in shape after his trip to Alborne, but only in that moment did she realize how intimidating he truly was.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was barely audible, yet he had no trouble hearing it—even past the rush of blood, the hectic fluttering of her heart, the steady hitch in her breathing.

Marshall's eyes flashed over Sadie's shoulder, towards the horizon, sneering in hatred with a frustrated growl as he ripped a hand through his hair. She spun around and nervously scanned her surroundings, trying to follow his line of sight—trying to understand what could provoke such a reaction, expecting to find something horrible leering at them. There were the trees, the distant rumble of traffic just coming off the freeway, sunshine with a distinct hue of green filtering through the still air. Sadie looked back at Marshall, saw that his glare had worsened; upper lip pulled back over his front teeth in what seemed almost animalistic. Primal, she corrected herself with a shudder—a predator drawing their game into a corner, trying to determine when would be the best moment to land a killing blow.

He stepped towards the edge of the shade, flinched back and shook his head in disgust. Then he smiled at Sadie. Her hands tightened into fist, experiencing the same rush of terror she felt when she first spoke with Alister. It was an excited smile, hungry and giddy with anticipation.

She wasn't having it. This wasn't a man that she knew—he was strange, dangerous with violent intent. Marshall disappeared over two weeks ago, and somebody new and horrible had stolen his skin. Sadie tried to swallow back a rush of frightened tears, and he watched her throat constrict over fine muscles, defining her protruding collar, feeling thirsty and turned on and like a goddamn bad time.

"I'm going home." She announced firmly, holding the encyclopedia even closer against her chest. "I'm not coming back after closing, either. You can put whatever I ordered on my tab, and don't you dare fucking follow me."

Marshall rose an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"I don't anymore. I don't care, just don't follow me home, okay?"

"You make me sound like a fuckin' creep." He hissed, indignant. "Goddamn, I'm not gonna follow you. I just need to-"

"I don't care."

She turned, and he grabbed her wrist. Sadie couldn't help a short scream at the sudden proximity—it was impossible, she didn't even hear him move. The book fell with a slam at their feet, she immediately began to thrash against his hold but he ignored her entirely, dragging her back to the relief of the awning. "You know, babe," he started, calm against Sadie's shrieking and hollow threats, "I really do care about making sure that you're always comfortable, especially after—well, you know. But right now, if you don't fuckin' relax and stop being rude," he pushed her into the shade, and she went crashing against the front of the bar, "I'm gonna go forward and do things my way, and I really don't think you want that, right?"