Page 39

“Would you rather have your toenails peeled off one by one, or have someone give you a paper cut in every web space between your fingers?” I ask, sitting forward eagerly.

“What the fuck, Lydia?” he asks, covering his face in his hands. When he lowers them, he notices that I’m still waiting for his answer.

“Oh, you’re serious, wow, um … toenails,” he says, nodding as he comes to terms with his answer. “Yeah, definitely toenails.”

My question instantly lightened the mood. His walls are shattering faster than my willpower in the antique shop downtown during the fall, but I fight the smirk begging to come out and play.

“Oh, thank the universe,” I say. “You would have lost major points if you’d gotten that one wrong.”

He purses his lips at me, and to my amazement, he says, “Your turn. Tell me something about yourself, Lydia Aston.”

I suck in a breath. The way my name sounds coming from his lips is utterly intoxicating. The tenor of it works its way beneath my skin, seeking desperately to destroy every wall between us.

I shake off the feeling, wondering what information I want to give him. This could be a pivotal moment in our situationship. I study his expression as he watches me, waiting patiently for my answer. His eyes roam over my body, his muscles tensing like he’s on the verge of unleashing something. I hate that there’s a part of me that really, really wishes he would.

“I see the ghost of my dead mother,” I say, holding his gaze as I bare one of my darkest secrets to him.

I don’t know why I say it. All I know is that it feels right. Callum watches me closely, his eyes searching mine for the hint of a joke where there isn’t one. When he opens his mouth to speak, I cut him off, blurting out the one question burning a hole through my brain. Maybe it’s a deflection tactic, or maybe I really need to know the answer.

“Who’s Kaila?” I ask, hardening my expression.

My shift of direction catches him off guard, and oddly, the color drains from his face a second later. The usual tan color of his skin is masked beneath a sheen of gray, gone as fast as it came. The only thing that remains now is anger.

Caught ya, sucker.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he asks, the fury clawing at his skin, begging for release. Is he seriously this infuriated that he got caught?

“Who’s Kaila, Callum?” I ask again, fuming.

If he thinks that I’m the one to toy with, he’d better think twice. I want answers, and I want them now.

“She’s none of your goddamn business,” he spits out, averting his gaze and turning to face the front of the cell.

“Are you serious right now?” I ask. “Did you not think that I deserved to know you had a freaking girlfriend instead of allowing me to pine for you for weeks?”

His head snaps in my direction, eyes widened in surprise. I hadn’t noticed I’d been yelling until now. I don’t lose my temper often or easily, but I’m currently pissed as hell.

“That’s not—” he starts, having the nerve to look like he pities me. He shakes his head, dragging a hand down his face.

“Uh uh,” I say. “Do not fucking do that, Callum. You owe me the truth right now, at the very least. You kissed me.”

His mouth opens, then snaps shut. His jaw tightens as frustration creases his features, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“Can we not do this right now?” he asks, his voice breaking.

It’s odd to see a man like Callum Thorne appear so broken. And when tears well up behind his eyes, I decide not to push the issue. I sigh and turn away from him, leaning my head back against the bars. My eyes slip shut for a brief second, until the echo of footsteps down the hall forces them back open. Callum and I turn our heads in the direction of the sound, and fear prickles at the back of my spine as I remember how I got here in the first place.

The shadow of a hooded figure is the first thing I see, followed by my captor. The person moving toward us is in full black robes and a hood. As they grow closer, the porcelain mask comes into view. It’s slender, sunken far back into the hood, and creepy as hell. My breath catches as I turn to Callum in horror.

“Come here, now,” Callum whispers, reaching a hand over to me. Nodding once, I scoot forward to grab his hand, allowing him to pull me against his side.

“Let me do the talking,” Callum whispers, holding me close against his side.

I lean against his large frame, allowing his protection to comfort me. We both watch as the hooded figure walks up to the cell and stops, facing us. We stare up at our hooded captor, waiting in silence for what feels like an eternity.

Finally, a voice echoes through the cell, the sound neither male nor female, young nor old. I realize that the voice is distorted to hide the identity of the person it belongs to. And when the words finally register, they sound robotic. Inhuman.

“Welcome. I’ve been anticipating this for quite some time.”