Dangerous Desire

Caught in the Rain

The rain poured relentlessly, soaking the streets and drumming a steady rhythm against Mya’s umbrella. She hugged her coat tighter, shivering as she navigated the slick sidewalks on her way back to the dorm.

Then it happened.

A dark car skidded around the corner. Tires splashed through the puddles, headlights blinding her. She froze for a split second—too late.

The impact knocked her to the ground. Pain shot through her side and legs, and the umbrella was ripped from her hands. The car didn’t stop. It sped away into the storm, leaving her trembling and soaked on the asphalt.

Mya gasped for breath, clutching her side. She was conscious, aware, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Panic clawed at her chest.

What do I do?

Her phone was soaked but intact. She dialed Sonya first, fingers trembling.

“Sonya… I—”

No answer. Her throat tightened. She pressed the phone harder to her ear, but the voicemail kicked in.

Mya’s chest heaved. I can’t stay here. I need someone who can help me.

Her fingers hovered over the contacts, heart hammering. Only one person came to mind.

Chris.

---

“Chris… it’s me,” she whispered into the rain-soaked phone, trying not to cry. “I… I was walking back to the dorm. The rain… a car hit me. The driver ran… I can’t walk. Please… I need help.”

The line was silent for a heartbeat. Then, sharp and low:

“Where are you?”

“Near the east entrance of the conservatory,” she said, teeth chattering. “I can’t move…”

“I’m coming. Don’t do anything. Stay where you are.” His voice was clipped, commanding, but under it ran something she hadn’t heard before—panic, worry, urgency.

“I… okay,” she whispered, hugging herself against the cold, the storm, and the fear racing through her veins.

---

Minutes later—too many minutes that felt like hours—she saw him.

Chris. Coat damp from the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, expression sharp, deadly, but his eyes—his eyes were blazing.

“Mya!” he barked, running across the wet street. He dropped to his knees beside her in an instant. “What the hell happened?”

“A car… it hit me,” she said, voice small, trembling. “It ran… I can’t… walk.”

Chris’s jaw clenched. “Damn it,” he muttered, scanning her legs. Then, carefully, he lifted her into his arms with astonishing strength, ignoring her protests.

“Chris—”

“Don’t talk. I’ve got you.” He carried her through the rain, umbrella barely shielding them, water dripping off his hair and coat. Every step was precise, protective, commanding.

Mya’s heart pounded—not from fear, but from the heat of his presence. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she murmured, shivering.

“Bother me?” His voice was rough, dark. “You nearly got killed. Do you know what could have happened? You think calling me is a bother?”

She looked up at him, rain dripping down her face, and for the first time, she saw the cracks behind his cold dominance—the raw, unguarded concern.

“You… you were worried,” she whispered.

“I was,” he admitted, jaw tight. “Do you know how reckless you are?”

She let out a small laugh, half in fear, half in relief. “I’m fine. You’re here now.”

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the street, the shadows. Then he looked back at her, and for a fleeting moment, the ice around him cracked.

“You shouldn’t be walking alone in this storm,” he muttered, voice low, dark. “You call me, Mya, before something like this happens next time. Understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered, gripping his coat.

He held her a moment longer, letting the storm rage around them, then started carrying her toward the dorm, long strides precise and strong. The rain soaked her hair, dripped down her neck, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the heat of him, the protectiveness radiating from every movement.

---

When they reached the dorm, he eased her onto the couch, settling a dry blanket over her shoulders. His eyes lingered, dark, stormy, conflicted.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you just caused me?”

“I… I just needed help,” she whispered, still shivering.

Chris’s jaw flexed. “Yes, well, next time, you call me first—not Sonya. Not anyone else. Me.”

She let out a small laugh, teasing even through the adrenaline. “You sound like you actually care.”

His eyes flickered, dangerous and raw. “I don’t care. I just don’t want you dead.”

Mya’s chest tightened. That was as close as he’d come to admitting anything, and it hit her harder than she expected.

“I… thank you,” she said softly, letting the words carry the weight of everything she felt.

“You better be,” he muttered, though his eyes softened for a moment before the usual ice returned. “And you will be more careful. Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Her lips curved into a slow, daring smile. “I’ll try.”

“You will,” he said, voice clipped, dominant, and unshakable—yet beneath it, the protectiveness lingered, fierce and undeniable.

Mya hugged the blanket around herself, heart racing. The storm outside raged on, but inside, something else had shifted.

Chris Hale wasn’t just cold and dominant anymore. He was a protector.

And she knew… she had just pulled him even closer.