Out Rider. Lindsay McKenna

feel him wanting me. It was dirty. It was...awful. It was sexual, and he scared me. I tried to deal with it. I told myself it was in my head, that I was imagining things, that is was me, not him. I tried to convince myself that it was me.” Her voice broke.

      Dev felt the beaded coolness of the condensation on the outside of the wineglass beneath her fingertips. She focused on it because the emotions writhing within her threatened to overwhelm the dissolving control she had over them. “But it wasn’t me,” she said. She hung her head, chin against her chest, fingers tightening around the stem. “Three months went by and he would quietly come into a room where I was and come up behind me... God,” Dev whispered unsteadily, wiping her eyes and opening them, staring sightlessly and straight ahead. “He never announced himself. He would always find me when I was alone, in a back room, when no other people were around. He was stalking me. Waiting. I didn’t know why, except I felt so damned scared my brain would freeze.”