Page 146 of Trick or Stalk

Instead, I slipped inside.

Presley was somewhere near the front of the store, moving between the shelves. I stayed out of sight, listening to her talk to herself while I followed from one aisle to another.

She heard me a few times.

Stopped.

Listened.

Once, she even asked if someone was there.

I nearly answered.

Then I heard the storage-room door slam.

A few seconds later, she started yelling.

Every thought about staying hidden disappeared.

By the time I reached the door, she was pounding against it and begging someone to let her out.

I yanked it open.

And she didn’t hesitate before throwing herself into my arms.

The man she thinks she met at The Crooked Spine.

The one she ate lunch with.

The man she smiled at and teased and admitted—without really admitting—that she’s attracted to me.

Her stalker.

I can still feel her.

Her fingers clutching my shirt.

Her face buried against my chest.

Her body trembling while I held her.

I gave her three words. I’ve got you.

And Presley believed them.

She relaxed against me.

Trusted me.

Then tonight I put on a mask and became the reason she felt afraid.

The contradiction should bother me.

It doesn’t.

I want both.

I want to be the thing that makes her heart race.