CHAPTER 15 The Manipulator I *m completely immobilized beneath his stare. I can only imagine the look on my face when I see him standing there, waiting for me. The sconces behind my bed are lit, offering dim lighting. Enough for me to get a clear view of him. He’s clad in all black. Leather boots, jeans that wrap tightly around broad thighs, and a matching hoodie that looks a size too small with the way he fills it out. Still, I can’t see much of his face—that damn hood. My tongue darts out, wetting my dry lips. “Take off your hood,” I say, a slight tremor in my voice. He doesn’t. Nor does he speak. Anger begins to build beneath the fear. “You wanted me to come find you, kitty cat. I did. So take off your fucking hood and show me your face,” I demand, my voice rising alongside my anger. A sinful smirk tugs at his lips when he hears his new nickname. He thinks this is a game of cat and mouse. If he wants to debase me with a nickname, it’s only fair I return the favor. Slowly, he reaches up and slides the hood off his head, the knife glinting as if to mock me. I have my own knife, too. Any triumph I felt over my little jab dissipates like butter in a hot skillet. And all the fear I’ve been feeling triples. His face is... unlike anything I’ve seen. But that’s the thing—I have seen him before. The mismatched eyes give him away. In the bookstore, I only saw portions of his face. At the time, he seemed mildly attractive. But now that I see those pieces as a whole, he’s devastating. His right eye darker than the midnight sky, and the other the exact opposite. His left eye is so bleached of color, it’s nearly white. The scar starting from the middle of his forehead, slashing straight down through his white eye and to the middle of his cheek, is something I haven’t been able to forget since I saw him in the bookstore. Despite the ugly scar, it only serves to heighten his utter beauty. A jawline so sharp, he could cut diamonds with it. A straight, aristocratic nose. Full lips. And