“Oh, Ethan does that all the time. He’s playing ‘Eeny Meeny Miney Moe’ to decide which girl he’s taking home tonight.”
I’m not sure if I was more shocked by what he was doing, or that she said it like he was selecting wine from the shelf.
I watched with bafflement as he mouthed the words, “Eeny Meeny Miney Moe, catch a tiger by the toe,” as he pointed around the room with his index finger. “If he hollers let him go, Eeny Meeny Miney Moe.” As he mouthed the last word he settled on a young, twenty-something girl in a short skirt and bobbed brunette hair. He jumped up, sauntered over, and whispered something into her ear. She looked up and giggled.
He turned and walked to the door, and like a little lost puppy, she followed along behind him.
I looked quizzically at Grace, not quite believing what I was seeing. “A simple whisper in the ear is all it takes for someone to go home with him?”
“He’s hot property—all the girls swoon over him. He can have anyone he likes, and he’s pretty much slept with half the town.” Grace’s gaze followed Ethan’s back.
“Don’t tell me you...?” My voice trailed off.
She straightened a few glasses in the tray, a cheeky smirk twitching her lips. “Once or twice. He’s just so good in bed.”
I wrinkled my nose. The attraction I felt for him shrunk, displaced by a mix of hostility and disgust.
“Sounds like he gets plenty of practice.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know there are things called vibrators, right?”
Her smile widened. “I have two. But vibrators don’t have tongues.”
I laughed.
“Amy, you can knock off now. I’ll see you next Friday at the same time,” Shelley said. The rancorous gaze I’d encountered at the start of the shift was gone. Instead, an indifferent look replaced it. Not exactly a huge step forward, but an improvement at least. I went out the back, grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and headed out.
Grace had moved back down to the end of the bar, leaning on her elbows as she chatted to Karson. She turned, giving me a little wave and a smile. I waved back. I couldn’t help but sneak one last peek at him and regretted it. He lifted his eyes and caught mine. The power of his stare was electrifying, and small goose bumps danced on my skin. I dropped my head and surged forward, even as I felt his gaze tingling on my back and I had the weirdest sensation to turn around, as if there was a rope wrapped around my heart, tugging me back.
The feeling subsided as the snapped the door shut behind me and a swoop of warm air cloaked my shoulders. What was it about him that intrigued me so much? Sure he was handsome, but I’d met many handsome men before with no effect at all. Maybe it was because he held an air of mystery, and I’d always loved a good mystery. His voice echoed in my head.“Get me a whiskey, will you, sweetheart?”For shit’s sake, what century did he think we were in?
I neared my car, hauling the keys from my handbag, and pressed the unlock button. The lights winked in the darkness. I opened the door, but something dragged my attention back towards the bar. I had the inexplicable feeling of being watched—the same sensation I’d felt in the forest. Despite the warm air, a chill ran down my spine.
Beyond the light spilling out from the bar, streetlights washed a dull glaze over the pavement like spotlights. Further beyond that, buildings lurched from the darkness like tombstones.
I searched the shadows, nothing moved, nothing was out of place, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling . . .
I was in a town where everyone knew everyone. The crime rate was almost nonexistent. The only things keeping Matt busy, other than the odd missing hiker, were probably underage kids drinking or pocketing sweets from the corner milk bar. It was absurd to frighten myself like this. What was I, five? I shook my head, brushing off the feeling, then got into my car and drove toward home.
When I went past the Millers’ place, the sheriff’s car was outside their house, even though I hadn’t met them yet, I hoped everything was alright.
Chapter 14
Karson
The bar was a droning hive of impaired limbs and robust laughter. Karson watched with bored indifference as the remaining crowd hurried to the bar, like seagulls to a discarded fry, for last drinks. He’d stayed away from Church Heights, his birthplace and early childhood home, for years, until finally a few years ago he’d ventured back to face the demons that’d plagued him his whole life.
He had in the interim conquered the living evil mercilessly—defeating someone else’s demons was easy enough. His own emotional ones were a different beast; the past was not something he could leave behind, it entangled into the fabric of who he was. Changed his core, made the darkness stretch, as endless as a night sky devoid of stars.
He’d delivered considerable justice to the root of his problem. He lost no sleep at night over their demise. His actions were warranted and—he reassured himself—for the greater good. After all, the only good witch was a dead witch.
Now, Church Heights had become a sanctuary of sorts. A place he could escape from the incessant grind of life. Here, he could relax. Here, he waited. For her.
A tiny blond with a robust chest walked past at least three vacant spots and sidled up beside him. Pretending, dismally, to be paying him no attention. When he paid her no heed in return, she flicked her beach-colored hair over her shoulder and peered up under a false set of lashes, stretching higher than her IQ. When he still refused to acknowledge her, she stuck her chest out.
He sighed. She was wasting her time, and even if she’d been up to his standards, which she wasn’t, he wasn’t in the mood. He’d seen thousands of attractive women over the years and slept with countless numbers of them. Women had always been drawn to him. He didn’t need to question why; he knew he exerted an irresistible pull. Everything about him, from the way he moved to his looks, was perfectly designed to draw females to him. Perhaps it was some hidden, ancient, instinctive drive. Like animals, the desire to breed and procreate with only the strongest was what drew them. Regardless, sex for him—when he wanted it—was as easy as a glance in their direction, a smile, some scant, feigned charm.
And Karson was incredibly bored.
Bored with how easy they all were, bored with them throwing themselves at him. Bored with using the same lines that worked over and over again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a genuine thrill. Neither sex nor killing fully satiated him anymore. He took a sip of whiskey and moved his gaze across to her.
