Someone watched. That scent of spice and sugar filled the air in the bedroom. Lying so perfectly still until her eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight filtering in through the French patio doors, an odd sense of peace flowed where panic should've been.
There. The silhouette of him standing at the foot of the bed. The sheers fluttered in the cool, Fall night breeze where the patio doors sat open. He shouldn't have been able to get up to the third floor apartment through the doors.
"Why have you been following me?" It came out as a low growl. His voice was deeper and richer than imagined. But given his large, muscular frame, it should've been expected. Those large hands fisted at his sides.
Slowly sitting up, she clutched the sheets to her chest as the chill in the air clung to the silk nightgown. "I just want answers."
His silhouette didn't move, but somehow his jaw clenching in irritation could be sensed.
"I saw you lift that truck when it was going to fall on your dad while he was changing a tire— "
"Whatever you think you saw, you're wrong," he hissed. "Stay away from my family."
She frowned. "How did you know where I live?"
He shot around to the side of the bed so fast that she almost missed it. His hot breath puffed in her face. "I know you've been following me for two weeks. Stay off our land, Ms. Lane."
The fact that he knew her name gave pause—she'd been careful to keep a distance and not be seen. "A mother in Smallville said you stopped a car from hitting her son—with only your hands. If you have some kind of muscle mutation that makes you strong, I won't write the story. I protect my sources—"
Large hands wrapped around her upper arms, forcing the sheet to drop. His grip didn't hurt, yet he clearly meant business.
"Leave me alone. I won't repeat myself." It wasn't rage that vibrated from him...it was fear masked as rage. He gave a small shake that made her startle.
"You won't hurt me. A young woman said it was you who came out of nowhere and saved her from a gang attack before you disappeared." The moonlight caught his eyes just right and reflected a paleness—he must have blue eyes. He looked furious now. "You help people. If you want to be anonymous, I won't publish—"
He shot to his feet and shoved the heavy wooden bed without any effort. It slid across the floor, and she grabbed the sheets to hold on.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of," he snarled. "I will not warn you again."
In the next instant, he was gone.
Staring at the window, too stunned to move, she drew in a deep breath and whispered, "I know you're not capable of evil. I'll get to the bottom of this, Clark Kent."