But now I’m tied to a chair, with a throbbing headache. My heart hammers frantically as I assess the surroundings. I’m in my kitchen. But more surprising and unsettling is Ted sits across from me, tied to a chair. His head hangs forward onto his chest. He’s unconscious.
“Ted,” I call out in a panic. “Tedly, wake up.” It takes a couple more shouts before his head lolls to the side. He lifts his head like it is almost too heavy to do so. Those beautiful stormy eyes are dull and bloodshot.
“Oh good, everyone’s awake,” someone announces. I don’t want to believe it, but the familiar voice confirms the cold reality before he steps in front of me.
“Lysander?” I choke out, incredulous.
Lysander circles me like a predator toying with prey, his movements smooth and sinister. A cruel smile twists his face. A perverse ecstasy seems to overtake him at the sound of his name from my lips. “Heavenly,” he murmurs, his pleasure almost obscene in its intensity.
“What the fuck, Lysander?” My words come out a ragged whisper, but my gut tells me what I already know.
He’s the stalker. He’s the shadow in my house, leaving presents, touching my underwear, going through my diary and faelords know what else. But how? He’s human and it was a shadow in my house.
I thought he’d only had eyes for Cinder. Did I enchant him too? Did I ruin my best friend’s chance for romantic happiness? I think I’m going to be sick.
A grotesque desire glints in his eyes as he reaches out to stroke my face. I recoil.
“You can’t do this. Not to Cinder. She deserves better.”
Lysander drops to his knees at my side, hands sliding up my thighs making my brain explode with panic all over again. I don’t want him to touch me. It’s not for me. He’s for Cinder.
“Cinder is nothing but a dirty smudge in the wake of your blazing glory, Goldie. Your intricacies and depth are like an artist's final masterpiece, a unique blend of colors that I have come to appreciate and desire. Her? She's merely a failed draft, discarded on the path to true brilliance.” He whispers in reverent awe, as if I am the most divine piece of art he’s ever beheld. It’s nonsense, all of it.
“Don’t say that,” I hiss in a harsh whisper. “She’s so much better than me. A true friend who is loyal, she’s hardworking, and the toughest girl I know. You can’t talk about her like that.” Even as I speak it feels like someone has sucked all the air out of my lungs. This can’t be happening.
Lysander reaches up to stroke my cheek. I jerk away, but he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You are more precious than you know. We belong together, Goldie. I can’t believe I ever saw anything in your friend when you were standing right there. I’m so sorry it took me so long to see the truth. To see you.”
“Let me guess,” I hazard. “You’ve felt this way for three weeks.” The exact time my magic manifested. Is it possible my magic had been sinking into his bones, poisoning him against my friend from the marrow outward in a quiet yet deadly way?
The idea of her finding out what I’d done to her makes me wild with fear.
Lysander stands, still holding my chin to make sure my eyes are trained on him. “I’ve felt this way since I realized you were special.”
Ted groans faintly.
“What did you do to him?” I demand.
Lysander lets out a hum of dissatisfaction before releasing my chin and crossing to Ted’s side.
Lysander claps a hand on Ted’s shoulder. The bear shifter lets out a groan. “I think our werebear friend needed to chill out, so I gave him a little something to make him more. . . subdued. I concocted a perfect little pink heart cake, adding a secret ingredient. Something to make the big bear sleepy.”
That sonofabitch.
Lysander flicked Ted’s head, causing Ted’s head to roll the opposite way with a groan.
“Let him go,” I demand. As soon as it’s out of my mouth I realize how stupid it sounds. Why would he listen to me?
Lysander tilts his head toward Ted as if considering the question before looking back at me. “No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that. Though noble to ask for his freedom before your own.”
“What do you want, Lysander?” I’m afraid to ask the question, but it may be the only key to getting Ted and me out of here. Or maybe one of us.
He grins. His lips nearly split his face, showing an exaggerated grin that is the stuff of nightmares. My nightmares. It’s the smile from the camera. His eyes widen, glowing a luminous green, the pupils shrinking until they are thin vertical slits like a cat’s. He shimmers out of view, leaving a dark smudge behind his disembodied eyes and grin.
“What the hell are you?” I whisper, terror rioting up and down my body in a cacophony of icy chills.
The grin disappears and its regular old Lysander again. He pouts at me and tsks. “Never took you for a racist, Goldie. Especially not when you have clearly fucked on the fae side.” The last comment accompanies a sneer he sends in Ted’s direction.
Ted’s head is still trying to raise up as he shifts in the seat. He’s fighting for consciousness against whatever Lysander gave him.
