A Stranger In My Arms Novels & Stories

he smirked and grabbed my arm again. I struggled against him and used my free hand to land a slap on his cheeks. I was breathing heavily now. His eyes changed quickly. To anger. “You pretentious bi.tch!” he charged towards me and slammed me against the car door again, this time even more roughly. He grabbed both my arms with his strong, wide palms as he tried to forcefully kiss me or strangle me. I didn’t even know what his intention was, but he looked dangerous at this point. I regretted leaving the bar with him.

I handed it back to him without looking at him. “There,” I said, trying to sound indifferent, as if this was just another regular moment in my day. “I’ll call you,” he promised, his smile almost mischievous as I turned to leave. “And I’m Evan by the way” he called out,But I didn’t feel like I was walking away from a stranger anymore.

The hallway felt like a vacuum. Jennifer's eyes were glued to Melanie, her lips twitching, the term 'brother-in-law' crumbling in her mouth. "Sis, what did you just say?" She pointed at me, her finger shaking wildly, disbelief and absurdity swirling in her eyes. "You're saying he...he's..." "Are you having trouble understanding plain English?" Melanie did not even bother to look at her straight, just cradled Noelle in one arm and looped the other around my waist, a clear statement of ownership and protection.

“Let me go.” The stranger shrugged his gun toward the door. “Go.” Arga stepped back slowly, then immediately closed the door until it thumped when he was outside the room. The stranger kept his gun in the leather jacket he was wearing. The thin T-shirt beneath the jacket fit perfectly against his flat stomach. I bravely couldn't help thinking about whether or not he had a girlfriend. God damn it. He's not even a good person and I dare to like him? What kind of girl am I?

Almost instinctively, I pulled out my phone and checked my browsing history for the video from last night. In it, the side profiles of the two elderly people were identical to the faces of my in-laws standing before me now. If the clip hadn't flashed by so quickly, I would have recognized them right away. And in other videos—those fleeting, fragmented moments—my wife, Cynthia Muller, appeared again and again, holding a child in her arms. The little boy called her "Mom" with intimate affection. Under a sky lit by fireworks, the man held her close and kissed her.

She tried to move, to do something, but the man’s strong arms held her body even closer to him. The hot breath on her neck grew heavier and her struggles became weaker. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that The Wandering Stranger would have such a soft touch, and such nice breath. It was minty-fresh, and added to the intensity of the moment. Slowly, he released his grip on her, and she returned the caress, her arms wrapping around the man’s broad back.

The sounds around me- the laughter, music,and clinking glasses,warped into a distant hum. A blurry figure approached me and grabbed my arms, dragging me forward. At that time,I couldn't quite pinpoint what was occuring. The only thing I was sure of was my unusual obedience to a stranger. The numbness in my limbs made it impossible to resist and the next thing I saw was darkness pulling me into its deep abyss. *****

A cloud of cigarette odor surrounds me like the stranger gives it off defensively, but he catches my shoulders before I fall. “Fuck, sorry,” I mumble. The stranger scoffs. That’s so abruptly rude after catching me that it actually shakes me out of my spiral for a second, and I look up at them. Him. A him I actually recognize, which is a surprise, because I’m halfway across the quad so I’m dealing with Ardent gen pop. Pale skin, though I think less pale than last time. Dark, shaggy hair. Out in the sun, his face looks like someone carved it with a hatchet, and without the stress of a party beating down on me, I notice the tapestry of tattoos covering both his arms.

It meant that somewhere deep down, I still believed gentleness and a warm cuddle could exist without a price. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, pressing closer instinctively, seeking heat like a dying thing seeks light. I felt his heartbeat against my ear….steady, strong, alive. My head rested against that solid chest, and for one perfect, stolen moment, I let myself sag into the embrace. A sigh escaped me, soft and involuntary. Contentment I had no right to feel flooded through me. This stranger's arms felt safer than my own home. Warmer than my own husband's touch.

The stranger's embrace offers a sense of security and warmth that penetrates through the cold despair that had gripped her. “Breathe -” In the midst of her dizziness, a faint image flickers before her eyes, accompanied by a gentle voice that resonates in her ear, urging her to breathe. Despite the struggle, she tries to follow the stranger's guidance, her breaths slow and deliberate, gradually steadying her racing heart.