Steven the stalker leers down at me in the same way he did just before Gray jumped him from behind on Halloween. He looks way too pleased with himself, as if he’s loving every second of this sick little game. His eyes are the same shade of red as Gray’s and Dante’s, but they glow hot and bright just looking at me—like I’m his dinner.
“Steven was clinging to life when I found him in that old church tower,” Dante goes on, his voice buzzing in the background of my growing fear. “I couldn’t let him die, not when he might have known where Gray ran off to. Wasn’t I surprised to find that he was as committed to finding you as I was to finding my sly little runaway. I’m a skeptic when it comes to fate, but Steven is proof that it really does exist.”
“Wait…” I pause from my momentary fear and zero in on Dante. “What do you know about the church tower?”
“You caught that?” His eyes widen for just a moment, then he’s back to business. “Though, I suppose it doesn’t matter if you know now, since you’ll be dead soon.”
The skin on my neck raises with fresh goosebumps. “What did you do?”
“Ilocked him up,” Dante sneers. “Father Bane was an easy buy, despite his amateur skills. A self-proclaimed vampire hunter, a snake oil salesman at best. He wanted bragging rights, so when I said I could deliver him a vampire, he was all too willing to do what I asked.”
“You sold him out,” I accused, jabbing a finger at him. “Why would you do that?”
“Punishment. He ran away from me.” The cold indifference in his expression is telling. I’m starting to doubt that he ever really cared about Gray. “He had a lesson to learn.”
“And what, you think he’ll just take you back after that? You’re sick.”
“Oh please, it’s not like he'll ever know.”
“I’ll tell him,” I shout.
“But you won’t,” says Dante haughtily. “Because Steven won’t let you out of here alive.”
“I remembered your smell,” Steven says, as if on cue. He touches a hand to the end of one lone green curl sitting against my cheek and flicks it.
Fuck. He’s right! How am I supposed to tell Gray if I can’t get out of here in one piece?
My shoulders tighten, and so do my legs. The pull of the door is palpable, my body urging me to move on instinct. It wants me to run, to get away, but I’m trapped between two vampires. The last time I outran Steven, he was human, and I had a couple of tricks up my sleeve then.
Dante bursts with boisterous laughter. “He’s like a dog with a bone!”
Steven doesn’t blink, or move, or do anything except focus his beady red eyes on me. He’s remembering every line of my face the way I’m willing my mind to remember every detail on Gray’s face. I try to calm myself with the thought of his smile, and how one side of his lips are crooked, or the way his eyes shimmer right before he kisses me. I hold on to that image of him and promise myself I’m going to find a way out of this mess.
“I can’t believe I get a second chance,” Steven moans as he scrapes a long nail against my cheek, drawing blood. I wince from the puncture, both afraid and grossed out when he brings my blood to his mouth. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
Dante laughs again from behind me, but the sound is hollow of humor. It’s cruel.
Steven leans down and runs his tongue along the slip of freshly cut skin. I shiver, willing the contents of my stomach to stay down.
“I want you to run,” he whispers in my ear and grabs the hair at the back of my neck, pulling it so tight my scalp tingles. “I’ll give you a ten second head start.”
Ten seconds? This guy is a nutcase.
“Ready?” The pressure on my scalp goes and I feel my feet hit solid ground. “Go.”
My legs spur into motion the second I’m free. Ten seconds isn’t a lot, and my chance of survival is slim to none, but I have to try. I’m too defiant to let my brain muddle me into thinking that I can’t at least try to beat the odds. Jill would never forgive me for dying before she could lay into me, and I have to set things right with Dax. More importantly? I need to get back to Gray and tell him how I feel. Steven the creep has another thing coming if he thinks he’s going to win round two.
And besides, I’ve always hated second-chances. It’s my least favorite trope for a reason.
Gray
Millie is gone.
It’s a quarter after five in the evening by the time I wake up. I roll over, hoping to find her wrapped up in the duvet, but she’s gone. Panic grips me as I sit up to search the room, listening for any hint of footsteps, something to signal that she’s near. Nothing. Tearing out of the bed, I find pants and a shirt, slipping them on while I move. Her scent is strongest beside me, but it lingers in the places she’s passed through. It’s fading, but I can still smell her; can still see the vision of her scent as a thread in my mind.
I follow it like a trail of crumbs through Tannis’s hallways.
Millie was quick and sure-footed when she left. Not one stepout of line as her scent leads me downstairs. The trail ends as I make my way into the kitchen, but there is no sign of Millie. She’s gone. For a silent moment, I stand there alone as sunlight peeks in through the windows. A pink sky with splashes of purple snuff out its harsh and harmful shafts of light. I can feel the evening sun tingle against my skin, but it does nothing to rouse me from my own wonderings at where Millie might have run off to.
