Deep Attraction (Preview)

Chapter 3.

CHLOE

My eyes widened as they met the cold blue ones locked on mine. His gaze was intense and so focused it pierced my soul.

His focus held me with such intensity that I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't even blink. I was instantly lost in those eyes that I could somehow see clearly in the dark, and that didn't scare me a bit but gave me a strange sense of protection instead. I devoured the moment, taking my time to inhale his pure male scent, feeling his hard body pressed against mine, though somehow so different from only a moment ago when my attacker had done the same.

He slowly removed his hand from my mouth, not breaking eye contact, putting me back on my feet, and I couldn't help but stare, silent as the remnants of adrenaline sputtered through me.

Then he broke eye contact to look behind me.

Shit.

I remembered why I was on the run. What if this guy was their friend? What if he was worse than them?

The random questions passed through my mind in less than a second, until I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I was about to punch his face, when his hand moved my body behind his, as if he was shielding me from the men approaching us.

Now I was just confused.

"Hi, mate, that cunt is ours!" one of the men said as soon they stopped. I couldn't see them from behind this man's large back. He was at least two heads taller than me, and his muscular body made him three times larger.

Oh God, please, no. I trembled at my attackers' words, feeling the fear taking over every cell in my body.

"Yeah, I don't think so." My hero spoke for the first time.

Hero? Is it what he is?

His voice was deep, husky, and powerful— a demanding baritone that I was made to bark commands and make people listen.

So powerful that I could feel it right through me.

"Let's see about that," the tall man challenged, defiance in his voice, but what caught my attention was a metallic clicking sound and watching my hero's back tense.

I peeked around his arm to see what was happening and spotted a knife in the attacker's right hand. He stood in a fight stance, with his friend beside him, both preparing to attack at any second.

"Please—" I tried to find words, but he cut me off before I could finish.

"Stay behind me and don't do anything stupid," he said without looking at me, his tone almost threatening.

Still sneaking around his muscled arm, I looked up to read his expression. He was emotionless, with a furrowed brow and a steady, unwavering gaze. He was focused on the men, now not looking so different from them. He wanted blood, and I was terrified. Fear blocking all my senses. I retreated behind his back again, praying, hoping, wishing... I just wanted to go home.

A silent whimper escaped my lips when the brown-haired guy ran toward us, coming with fists raised and in full rage, but he was too slow. Before he got close enough to land a blow, my hero stepped forward, slamming his right fist into his face, making him stumble back in pain. The attacker dropped to his knees with blood splattering from his mouth, and my hero took that moment to grab his head and smash it against his knee. I could swear I heard bones cracking.

Even before the brown-haired guy hit the ground, the tall man was moving toward my hero, running and waving the knife in every direction. I held a scream behind my hands as my defender ducked, preventing the blade from tasting his flesh. Then, with a quick move, he grabbed the attacker's wrist, twisting it until the knife dropped on the ground and screams of pain left the attacker's mouth.