Page 15

I sigh, sad that I may never see that date. “Rowan, I’m a dead woman walking.”

“We are going to figure it out. I promise.”

I snort. “Not if this cult kills us first.”

“Who goes there,” a cult member yells out, the chanting collapsing into a sudden silence.

Oh, shit.

Rowan whispers, “On my count, we run. One⁠—”

Before he can even get to the next number, I sprint the hell out of there, leaving him in my dust. I climb up the stairs three at a time, my heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of my chest.

All those skills I had as a track star in college came to use at this moment.

Once I'm safely outside, I lean over, my hands braced on my knees, lungs burning as I struggle to catch my breath. I'm staring at a crack in the concrete, watching my sweat drip onto it, when I hear his voice.

“Jesus Christ, you can run,” he breathes out, hands on his own knees, chest heaving.

I burst out laughing and look up at him.

Shouldn’t have done that.

We stare at each other in utter horror. We are both covered in something dark red, slick and glistening under the streetlight.

I gag. “Is this…blood?”

His face is also twisted in disgust. “Yes. Probably goat blood since I saw a bunch of them laying around the room.”

I stand up straight and nod calmly. “You don’t even have to worry about me breaking the curse. I’m just going to kill myself. Thanks.”

His shoulders shake as if something is funny about the predicament we’re in. “Look on the bright side.”

“Buddy, what goddamn bright side is there?”

He gestures between us. “Our Halloween costumes look pretty cool. We look like murdering Doctors.”

“Yeah, definitely a bright side,” I say sarcastically.

Again, we burst into laughter. We do this for so long that tears start to roll down in my face.

We're both still breathing hard in the aftermath of whatever ritual just happened. There is, objectively, nothing about this moment that should be romantic.

Yet, as I stand here, I can’t help but feel so close to him right now.

He notices my look and grows somber.

“Kiss me,” I blurt.

“What?” he says.

“Kiss me,” I repeat, biting my lip.

His hand comes up to my jaw, and it leaves a smear of red against my skin. My fingers curl into the ruined front of his shirt and pull him closer, blood be damned.

His lips press against mine softly at first and I melt into it, wrapping my arms around his neck. The kiss is cautious at first as we test each other’s boundaries. But after a few moments, the kiss got intense. We go deep, exploring each other's mouths.

“Get a fucking room!” someone yells, and we break apart with a laugh.