The Stranger on My Couch

“You’re lucky I didn’t just leave you in the snow,” I said, handing him the steaming mug of tea. My voice came out sharper than I intended, but maybe that was because my heart still hadn’t decided whether it was afraid or… curious.

He sat slouched on my couch, his head tipped back against the cushion, dark hair falling into his face. He was still wearing his shredded black shirt which was exposing the hard slope of muscle beneath. There were bruises along his ribs but I tried not to stare.

“I don’t remember how I got there,” he murmured.

I frowned. “What do you mean you don’t remember? You can’t just show up bleeding in the woods and tell me you don’t remember.”

His eyes opened then, locking on mine. He had this hard stare that made me feel uncomfortable as if he was searching my soul.

“I’m telling you the truth,” he said slowly. “There’s nothing. Before I saw you, it’s all… blank.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “No name? No idea why someone would be after you?”

“I didn’t say I don’t have a name.” His lips curved slightly, and for a second I forgot I was supposed to be suspicious. “It’s Kellan.”

“Kellan,” I repeated, testing it out.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment, his gaze lingering on my face a little too long. “For bringing me here.”

I shrugged, trying to make it look casual even though my pulse was beating harder than it should for some unknown reason.

“You could’ve frozen to death. Or bled out. And… I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had company.”

That earned me a faint smile. “Do you live alone?”

I hesitated. “Yes.” And immediately wondered why I’d just given that away.

Silence stretched between us for a minute. I could hear the rain starting up again outside, tapping against my window. The only other sound was the slow sip he took from his tea.

It had actually been a long time since I’d had a man in my home. Longer since I’d been close enough to notice the curve of someone’s jaw or the way a shirt clung to a body like it belonged there.

My eyes drifted without permission to the hard lines of his stomach where his shirt hung open, the smooth trail of skin leading down into the waistband of his jeans. I swallowed and leaned back into the couch, but somehow my knees ended up angled toward him.

“Are you always this quiet?” I asked, partly to distract myself.

“Only when I’m trying to figure someone out.”

That pulled my gaze back to his face. He was looking at me directly but this time, his stare wasn't hard or uncomfortable.

“You’re staring,” I said.

“You’re the one sitting here studying me.” His smirk deepened just enough to make my cheeks warm.

I laughed softly and shook my head. “Well we won't find out much about you if you aren't studied, will we?.”

“It seems to me like you're not being as cautious as you ought to be.”

That stopped me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You bring a strange man into your house in the middle of the night. You don’t know if I’m dangerous.”

I raised my brows. “Are you?”

His smile faded, and something flickered behind his eyes. “That’s the thing. I don’t know right now.”

I should’ve been unnerved by that, but instead, there was something magnetic about the way he said it. Like he wasn’t threatening me, but warning me.

I reached up and tugged at my necklace, my fingers hooking under the chain to slide it over my head. It was a nervous habit more than anything but I always took it off when I was about to settle in for the night.

The movement made the neckline of my sweater fall slightly, baring the curve of my neck. I didn’t think much of it until I felt his gaze sharpen, the shift in the air between us almost tangible.

“What?” I asked, half-laughing, half-self-conscious.

He leaned forward slowly, his mug forgotten on the table. His eyes weren’t on my face anymore- they were fixed lower, just beneath my hairline.

“What is that?” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it that made my skin prickle.

My hand went instinctively to the spot at the nape of my neck. “What?”

“That mark,” he said, his tone strange, almost reverent.

“You’re not supposed to have that.”

Before I could ask what the hell he meant, he moved closer- close enough that I could feel the heat of his body and the faint brush of his breath against my skin. His hand lifted like he was about to touch the spot, but he stopped just short, his eyes wide with something I couldn’t name.

“Where did you get it?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper but sharp with urgency.

I stared back at him, my heart suddenly hammering so hard it hurt. “I… I don’t know. I just have it. Since birth maybe.”

He didn’t blink.

"Is there something wrong?"

Before I could get a response, I heard someone knock on my door again. The knock came again. Kellan pushed me behind him quickly, trying to guard me from whatever was now pounding aggressively at my door.