He was, to his credit, extremely handsome. Like something off of a book cover. Something that she would have stared at and thought was impossible for people to achieve. He wore an expensive andexquisitely tailored, somewhat vintage style black suit, with a matching black vest, black silk tie, and white shirt. A single, dark purple rose was tucked into his lapel.
Then she realized what it was.
What about him was triggering her need torun for her life.
It was his eyes.
His eyes weren’t right at all.
Not only just the fact that they were purple, and seemingly somehowglowing,but they seemed surreal in a way she couldn’t put her finger on. Like they were somehow too sharp. Too hyper-real.
But most of all? The biggest problem with him? It was that the man screamed, with every fiber of his being—from his clothing, to his demeanor, to the glint in his eyes, to his hungry, wolfish smile?—
Hello. Nice to meet you.
I’m evil incarnate.
The man was smiling at her, seemingly patiently letting her take him in, before with a dramatic flourish of a hand, he folded one arm before him and bowed low. “Not a bad summary, I must admit. Welcome to my home, Sasha Lancaster.”
“Who…are you?” She took another slow, careful step back. She didn’t want to move too quickly. The man reminded her of a shark in the way that he moved and the way that he looked at her likelunch.
“I don’t think the ‘who’ is what you’re after, judging by what you were just musing over.” He gestured a pale hand aimlessly. He wasincrediblypale. Almost making her think of a vampire. “You’ve already correctly surmised I am not human.”
“What?”Her eyes went wide. “You can read my thoughts?”
“Mmm…That is a complicated question, my dear.” The bizarre man took a step toward her. He really did move like a shark or a panther. All lithe grace and strength. It made her believe that he could lash out at any moment and rip her throat out.
She took two steps back for his one forward.
It didn’t go unnoticed. He chuckled. “Can Ireadyour thoughts? Yes and no. Can I, in this moment, interpret all your unspokenthoughts and feelings, all that goes on in your mind and your soul? No. I cannot.” The heels of his expensive shoes clicked on the marble floor as he continued to stalk towards her, forcing her to continue to retreat backwards through his library.
She had no weapons. No way to defend herself. No way of knowing who orwhatthis man was. No way to know where she was or how to get to safety. If she ran, she had no way to know which way to go. Any direction might be the wrong one. But she was beginning to very much not care, and was about to just pick one and go.
But which way?
“However,” he continued, his smile growing. “Can Ireadyour thoughts? Absolutely yes. For example, since you are about to run like an abject fool, I wouldn’t recommend running thatway.” He pointed aimlessly toward the left. “It is the horror section. It is a bit untidy at the moment.”
Fuck.
This.
Noise.
Turning on her heel, Sasha took off running in the opposite direction of the bizarre and freakish man, who was now laughing as though she were the most amusing thing he had ever seen in his life.
“She listens to advice, at least!” he called after her. “All hope is not lost!”
Running through the rows and rows of bookcases, the sound of her pounding heart mixed with the echo of his taunting, horrible laughter as she tried to find an exit. But she quickly came to a dead end. Backtracking, she turned to the right. And found another dead end.
Twisting aisles led to more aisles led to more dead ends led to more rows and rows of…she was lost. And now she was no longer in the main corridor, but down a smaller row, staring up at the stained glass depiction of Dorian Gray.
“I’m afraid there’s no way out, Sasha dear. Well. Not by running, at any rate. However amusing as that was to watch.”
She screamed and whirled.
The man was right behind her again, standing only a few feet away, blocking her exit. It looked as if he’d been standing there the whole time, leaning against the bookcase, his feet crossed at the ankles. He was casually inspecting his fingernails. “But I understand you had to try. I won’t take it personally. It’s a trope.”
Picking up a heavy book from the shelf next to her, she readied herself to clobber him with it like a weapon. “Stay away from me!”
