"Get back here!"
She didn't bother turning back to look.
In fact, Fleur didn't stop running even after she was down the street, panting and exhausted. She was worried that if she slowed down for even a second, her father would catch her, and it was goodbye for her for good.
With her chest heaving, Fleur stopped right in front of a junction. The streets were empty even though it was supposed to be the rush hour, with the sun just about to set.
To be fair, hardly anyone came to this part of town, where all the poor and horrid lived. Likewise, those here were too much scum of the earth to try to do anything to leave. Hence, it wasn't surprising at all that it was empty.
"There she is!"
Fleur stiffened when she heard voices coming from behind. It sounded oddly like her father's friends, causing her to bite down on her lip.
Her eyes scanned the streets, stopping in surprise when she noticed a man leaned against the wall at an entrance to an alley. His foot was resting on the brick wall, a hand in his pocket, and the other holding a cigarette.
For some reason, Fleur thought she had seen him somewhere before, though she couldn't place where. She hardly had any friends to recognize.
But she didn't have time to think. Fleur rushed to the stack of trash right next to that alley, squeezing between rubbish cans in an attempt to blend in with the environment. She could hardly see anything in front of her, and the smell of the garbage was foul.
"Where did she go?" one of the men said. "I could've sworn I saw her running down this street."
"Is that her?"
Fleur's heart stopped beating. She didn't dare to breathe, afraid that even that would give away her spot. All she could see was a small patch of the concrete pavement directly in front of her.
When the sunlight was blocked off by a shadow, her eyes went wide. She could hear her blood roaring in her ears.
Fleur reached deep into her pocket slowly and carefully for the small pocket knife she had grabbed on her way out. On top of her, the garbage can lid she had used to cover herself was lifted, and light slowly spilled in.
She didn't wait to see who it was. Fleur grabbed her knife and swiped, jumping to her feet. However, before she could land on a target, slender fingers grabbed her wrist, preventing her from moving further.
"Hey now," a man said. "That's not very nice."
Fleur's eyes went wide. Wait. This wasn't the voice of a sixty year old man. In fact, she had never heard such a silky baritone before, and her face immediately whipped to its side in search of the source.
Just inches away was a face so handsome―no. 'Handsome' wasn't the right way to put it.
The man was damn near ethereal.
He looked so sinful, like a work of art that had escaped some museum. His raven black hair moved slightly to reveal his light brown eyes when he stepped back to avoid Fleur's blade. In the light of the setting sun, it almost seemed golden.
She blinked once. Then twice. Then thrice, squeezing her eyes shut for a good extra second before opening them again. But the man stayed just as he was, as angelic as ever, watching her with an incredulous look on his face.
"Is there something on my face?" he asked.
"Uh…" Fleur said, her lips parted, gaping like a fish out of water. "No. I just―"
"You idiot! I told you she was in that previous street!"
Well. That surely was enough to drag Fleur out of her daydream and back to reality. She stiffened, and awe quickly turned to surprise when she looked past the handsome stranger's body to check behind him.
True enough, there were two burly men, friends of her father's. They were present when her father planned to sell her off to some greasy, balding man, probably eager to spend the money on the spot.
"Shit," Fleur cursed underneath her breath. "Oh no. No no no no."
The handsome stranger looked down at her, then back at the men. Without another word, he effortlessly lifted her out of the garbage pile and into the back alley where he was smoking previously. Fleur was pressed against the wall, trapped between the man's arms with nowhere left to go.
"I thought I heard her," one of the men said. "How about we check that alley?"
Before Fleur could react, the man stepped forward, closing the little bit of distance between them. His arm perfectly covered her face, and he leaned his face forward to hers. Fleur's breath hitched in her throat.
He was so close that she could smell the minty cologne that lingered on his clothes. If she moved even the slightest, their lips would touch. Quickly, her cheeks turned red, and her entire body felt warm all over.
"Ugh, youngsters," a man said. "Can't get a fucking room. Come on, let's check the next street. The bitch probably escaped closer to town."
The footsteps eventually faded away. Although, Fleur wasn't sure herself if she had misheard. All she could hear was the insane thudding of her heart.
Once the men were gone, the handsome stranger finally pulled away. He took one step back and looked out towards the main street, raising a hand to block his eyes from the glaring sunlight.
It took a second for Fleur to gather her thoughts. This stranger had just saved her.
"T-Thank you," Fleur said with a stammer. "For saving me."
The man turned to look at her. He studied her for a second before leaning in again, and Fleur instinctively pressed herself back into the wall. The apples of her cheeks matched the bricks behind her at this point.
"Seems like you're quite a pickle," the man said, raising an eyebrow.
"You can say that," Fleur replied.
"Well then," he said, placing two fingers to his temple before making a saluting action. "Good luck with that."
He then tucked his hands into his pockets, shot her a charming smile, and turned to walk out of the alley like nothing had happened.
She bit her lip, emboldened by either fear of getting caught, or the fact that she was utterly enamored by this incubus of a man. A crazy idea flew through her mind―or perhaps, the lack of it.
Fleur rushed forward and caught the edge of his leather jacket, holding him in place.
"Actually," Fleur blurted out, "can I stay with you for a few days?"