His gaze sweeps the entirety of my body, and his eyes blaze with possessiveness. “Whoever tries is going to end up dead.” My eyes thin. “How can you work to save women while actively stalking another?” I challenge, cocking a brow. He has the nerve to look amused. I have no idea what could possibly be so funny about stalking someone. “I’ve never stalked anyone before you,” he says simply. “Not outside of my job, at least. Definitely not for romantic purposes.” I give him a face, my expression full of incredulity. “Is that supposed to make me feel special?” A slow, wicked smirk glides across his face, unbothered by my increasingly burning stare. “I wouldn’t mind if it did.” I want to slap him. But the asshole would probably like it, and then turn around and slap me back. And my dumbass self would probably like it, too. I’m fucked in the head. And dealing with this man—I am beyond stressed. This just can t be good for my skin. Scoffing, I turn my head out the window and spend the rest of the car ride in tense silence. The atmosphere has only worsened, and I can’t tell if it’s because I now know he’s some vigilante, saving children and women from evil people, or if it’s because he confessed that he’s only ever turned into a psycho for me. Still, both prospects have shifted the way I look at him. The latter shouldn’t by any means, considering he just lodged his dick down my throat while strangling me with a belt five minutes ago. But it fucking does.