06

For the longest time, neither of them spoke.

He stepped back, his eyes took her in, slowly, savoring her and, in turn, she drank in the sight before her: his muscular chest that made her heart pound and hands want to touch the muscles underneath the smooth skin, the water clinging to his tan, tan skin, leaving damp trails that her eyes followed all too eagerly.

"Chloe?"

She looked up at his eyes—had he been checking her out?—and she saw his gaze flicker down to the picture in her hand. "I-I-I c-co-coul-ouldn't f-fi-find th-this," she managed softly, her voice weak, thick from crying like a babe.

Hot tears prickled in the backs of her eyes.

"I wasn't sure if I was welcome at your house," Derek explained slowly, reaching for her—no, passed her, for his towel. He rubbed himself down, his shorts sticking to him like a second skin. It was delicious, but her impending bawling ruined the moment.

Her face felt hot like fire and she knew she was going to cry. A tear dripped down her cheek and hit the toe of her hiking boot.

"I was going to give it back to you—are you okay?"

She tried to duck her head away but he cupped her chin in his hand (so warm, huge, covering the span of her jaw) and turned her to face him.

"Chloe, I didn't mean to make you cry," he whispered, his voice low and soft—sensual, almost, as though she were his lover and he was comforting her.

She shook her head, curls bouncing around. "I-it's n-no-not th-that-I j-just do-on't have m-mu-uch of her." She knew he'd be confused but he just let her cry her feelings out, telling her to wait for him while he went in the woods to get changed.

He disappeared from her sight and she collapsed to the ground, her face burning.

Why did she have to cry so much? She hid her face in her hands and let the tears fall down her heated cheeks. In the back of her head, she could see her mother, smiling, happy, even as she withered away.

"It's not your fault." He was behind her now; his hand heavy on the back of her head. His strong fingers stroked through the tangles. He knelt down, suddenly, and he draped himself across her side, pressing her face into his chest.

It was pure heaven, and she inhaled his smell, heady and musky and a bit gross but all him, greedily. She froze as someone laughed throatily.

"My, my, what do we have here?" sneered a voice.

Chloe frantically wiped her at her wet cheeks, refusing to let the bastard see her vulnerable.

Royce stood a few feet away from them, wearing a tight grey t-shirt and torn-up skinny jeans, his hair slicked back with a ton of hair gel. He reminded Chloe of an eel.

Derek was on his feet, his muscles tense.

Was he going to hit Royce?

The two boys flanking Royce, Liam and Brady, looked very strong, giving Derek these excited looks; it was like they wanted to hurt him.

Royce flashed a dark, smarmy smile at Chloe.

She scrambled to her feet, heart hammering in her chest so loudly, she wondered if they can hear it.

"We'll be going now," said Derek, taking Chloe's arm.

His fingers burned her skin but she could feel the slight tremor in his hand, a muscle in his jaw jumping, his pulse throbbing in his throat, heavy.

"Where do you think you're going, you bloody mutt?" Royce's eyes shone with glee, sick, twisted glee.

Derek's nostrils flared at the nickname. "Don't call me—"

"Oh, he didn't tell you, did he?" Royce stepped closer, a slight bounce in his step.

Liam popped his knuckle, blonde hair glinting like gold in the sunlight.

Brady grinned, a dimple in his squared chin flashing like a diamond.

"Did he tell you what he did? Why everyone acts so nervous around him?" His voice grew higher and higher, almost comically but Chloe wasn't laughing; she was sweating like a pig.

"He murdered his entire family, like his daddy. Just a little younger than you, actually," Royce explained as easily as speaking about the weather.

She looked at Derek, the anger burning in his eyes, his face angled away from her like he was ashamed. Chloe, this is the same guy who protected you from Royce. He's protecting you now, she told herself. Her hand squeezed around the gem on her neck.

He's strong enough to kill someone, I bet.

She pulled her arm out of Derek's grasp and slowly, shaking, walked up to Royce. "H-he k-ki-illed h-hi-is parents, you s-said?" she murmured. Her heart was pounding double-time with what she was about to do. "Y-you-you're n-no-nothing bu-ut a liar," she spat and her palm connected with his face, sending him stumbling and clutching his cheek.

"Derek w-wou-ould never hurt an-anyo-one! Ever!" Her mouth and tongue were thick with fear but now that she was coming off her high, rage induced of course, she saw how utterly pissed he was. Her hand was throbbing, her fingers turning red.

Royce's face turned a horrible shade of dark purple-red and he lunged—there was a fucking knife in his fist, arching towards her—someone grabbed her arm and yanked her back hard, nearly ripping her shoulder out of socket.

Her arm was burning now, tears filling her eyes as she watched Derek slam his shoulder into Royce's chest.

The eel snarled as he hit the ground, Derek pinning him down.

"Derek!" she yelled and scrambled forward as he wound back his arm, ready to knock Royce's lights out. She wrapped her arms around Derek's waist, yanking with all her strength, feet slipping on the ground.

"Please! S-sto-op!" she begged. When Derek looked over his shoulder, his eyes pierced her like daggers. Heat rushed into her cheeks when he turned away, his fist flying. With a crack like a gunshot, his hand connected in a punch square to Royce's face, blood running down his face.

"Don't ever touch her again."

"Little mutt is protective, no?" Brady laughed, tense.

"Yeah," Derek snarled, "I am. And if you two jackasses so much as look at any of my friends—" Chloe's heart beat faster at the word friend. "—Then I will personally beat the shit out of you."

He got off the swearing Royce and grabbed Chloe's arm, dragging her as she looked back, watching as Royce sat up, hair messy, his cheekbone bruised. There was a deep cut on his lip. He looked positively, absolutely, pissed off.

"W-why?"

Derek ignored her and then he stopped suddenly. Without warning, he dropped her arm and his fist flew out, into a tree trunk. Chunks of skin peeled up. Splinters embed themselves in his knuckles, raw and bloody.

"D-De—"

"You think I killed them, don't you?" His voice was soft like a breathy whisper, cold as ice. "You think I killed my family." He wasn't looking at her; rather, he was looking at the tree.

"N-no."

"Don't lie."

She squeezed the necklace tight. "No." She touched between his shoulder blades, feeling the heated skin, the hard muscles there. "I d-do-on't, De-De-erek." She took a deep breath to keep her jitters away. She really didn't want to stutter and ruin the moment. "You're protective, caring. I may not have known you for that long, as long as Tori or Simon but I want to get to know you—" She stopped, suddenly trembling. "I'd like to get to know you."

She let her hand touch his hair lying against the nape of his neck softly, feeling the silky strands before she pulled away.

"I'll walk you home." He sounded a bit strained. When he turned to her, his cheeks were redder than normal and his bottom lip looked shiny, like he's been biting it.

I'd rather bite it, she thought sultrily and quickly turned her head away, feeling her cheeks flame.

They walked out of the woods in silence. She dragged her sneakers on the hot asphalt.

"Is your arm okay?"

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Oh, um—" She tried to pull her sleeve down but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and slowly pulls up the fabric; he swore loudly.

"It—I didn't—"

"Derek, I know." She patted his hand, looking down at it. He had a working man's hands, with big veins and strong calluses. "I know."

He pulled back, his hand rubbing his mouth like he was trying not to get sick.

"I'm not mad," she blurted out. "You were pulling me away from Royce."

They were walking up the steps of her house.

Lauren's car was in the driveway.

She could faintly hear some stupid game show from the den.

"Chloe," Derek murmured softly, looking down into her eyes, "if he so much as looks at you, tell me." His gaze, which had been soft, hardened into stone. "Promise me."

"I promise."

"Call me?"

She laughed, tension slipping off her back like water from a duck's feathers. "I don't have your number." She rubbed her arm where the bruises were, a flicker of something sad and dark crossing his face when she looked at him. "I'll figure out a way to explain it away." She smiled shyly, pulling her sleeve down to cover the bruise.

He gave her a half smile back before he turned and jogged away.

The door opened, Jeopardy song blaring out, full volume.

Lauren's figure blocked out the doorway. "Chloe, where were you?"

"Oh, I-I we-went running and lost my necklace yesterday, so I-I went b-back and ran into my friend, who helped m-me fi-find it," Chloe lied.

"Dinner's on the table," her aunt said flatly. "Next time, just tell me where you're going so I don't worry, please."

"Okay, Aunt Lauren."