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A hand goes to the figure’s head, working in quick jerks, and then it disappears for a few minutes, leaving me staring at nothingness. I glance out the window, searching for my cousin in the dark; he’s standing off toward the lake, phone pressed to his ear, gesturing animatedly at the sky with his free hand.
I go to open the car, but it’s locked, and the childproof button’s only accessible through the door frame.Well, shit.Even though Luca’s standing right there, Kieran’s disappearance from my line of sight sends an eerie shiver up my spine.
Because despite the blatant flirting and the allure of his innate darkness, there’s still something very off about that man. Something sinister lurking in his soul, if he even has one. Something I’m afraid of.
Something that can hurt me.
Without the fog of lust clouding my judgment, making me agree to anything he says, panic seizes my chest instead, fear scraping its nails against the chambers of my heart.
Several minutes pass with Luca still not paying me any attention, and finally the shadow is back, something large and oblong-shaped over his shoulder. My fingers shake as I reach up to adjust the zipper of my jacket, pulling it down to allow my lungs room to breathe.
He releases the object, and it falls to an invisible surface with a lifeless thud; I can’t hear the drop from here, but I can tell that whatever’s in there with him is no longer animate.
This was a very bad idea.
I wasn’t planning on striking tonight, per se, but Luca had initially agreed on account of not having enough to do outside of being a glorified bouncer—incidentally, I also had nothing to do.
Not to mention, I just want my fucking necklace back. And at this point, I’m willing to try anything—especially if it means potentially avoiding contact with someone I suspect may be Satan himself.
Inside the house, the shadow’s arm crooks, elbow jutting out by their head, and suddenly my phone vibrates long and slow, indicating an incoming call. That unknown number flashes on my screen, making my fingers shake as I decline.
I swallow down the mucus in my throat, wishing Luca would hurry the hell up, or at least turn and keep an eye on me.
My phone rings again, the same number popping up. Again, I hit the little red button, glaring out at the shadow hidden inside the cottage.Stop calling, psycho.
I’m just about to send him a text asking as much, when his number pops up a third time; anger pulsates through my veins, the demand for my attention pissing me off too much to keep from answering this time.
Accepting the call, I hold the phone up to my ear and open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it. “Who else are you fucking?”
Blinking at his harsh tone, my mouth dries up, making a response difficult. The figure behind the curtain stands impossibly still, and now I’m positive he’s looking out here—I just don’t know if he can see me.
I scratch at my neck, feeling a flood of hives break out along the skin at its base. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” Kieran’s voice is low, almost a growl, and the sound alone makes my thighs clench despite my reservations. It’s the kind of sound you want spoken into your skin, the kind that raises goose bumps the way Jesus raised the dead, that says this dangerous man is in control of everything and I’m merely a pawn in his weird game of chess.
Dominant. Commanding. Strong.
Everything I’m not.
A curse comes over the line at my silence. “I asked you a question.”
“I heard you. I’m choosing not to respond.”
“I see.” A few more beats of quiet settle over the line; I glance back at Luca, who is still heavily engrossed in a conversation, and then back to the house. The figure is gone again, and a chilly air cloaks around me in the car, making my pulse jump. “Am I to assume you don’t want this necklace back, then?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then tell me who’s been inside you. Tell me whose throat I need to slit for touching something that belongs to me.”
Against my better judgment, my heartbeat stutters, though I try to convince my brain it’s just because I’m cold. The swelling in my chest knows better, though. “I don’tbelongto you.”
“But you do, kitten. And until you’ve repaid me for keeping your precious necklace safe, you’re all fucking mine, and I don’t share. So, tell me; who’ve you spread your little whore legs for since I saw you last?”
“First, I’m not a whore, and second, fuck you. Why do you think you can talk to me like that?” And why does it make my core throb with excitement, like a thousand little butterflies taking flight inside my womb.
Why does it make me want to keep goading him, see how far I can push his buttons?
“You may not beawhore, but you’re bound to becomemine.A dirty little slut just for me.” I choke on my spit at the crassness, at how far this conversation dove off the cliff of rationale, and he chuckles. “Does that intrigue you, baby girl? Are you interested to know what I’d do with you?”
