Please, just be a raccoon. A really big raccoon.
Her gaze dragged to the window. Something massive pressed against the glass. Not human. Not even close to human-sized. Red eyes peered at her through the darkness. Her stomach dropped.
Move.
The thing blurred out of sight, and her survival instincts blissfully kicked in.Grandpa’s gun safe!It would still be in the barn because Grandma refused to keep firearms in the house. She had to get out there now.
Delaney bolted for the door, yanking it open and flying down the porch steps. Her slippers skidded on the ice, and she barely caught herself. Cold punched into her lungs—she’d left her coat behind, but there were more pressing concerns. Like not being horrifically murdered.
Behind her, something heavy landed in the snow. Close. Too close.
She didn’t look back. Couldn’t. Her breath came in panicked gasps, fogging the air, legs pumping as she ran for the barn’s dark outline fifty yards away.
Thirty yards.
Twenty.
Ten.
She was going to make it. She was—
Something slammed into her from behind. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but enough to send her stumbling forward into the barn’s open doorway. She caught herself on the doorframe, spinning around—and froze.
It stood between her and escape. It was towering over her like something out of a nightmare. Broad shoulders, powerful build, its throat wrapped in the most delicate white fur.
Oh.
When she’d seen it through the window, something had been covering the lower half of its face. Some kind of mask? She hadn’t had time to process. It wasn’t there now, from what she could see.
What remained was... intense.
Sharp features, angular and alien. His eyes glowed red—actually glowed, like embers—and swept over her with a hunger that made her skin prickle. Something curved back from its head. Horns? Antennae? They twitched slightly. The wings behind him were huge.
He was definitely the Mothman.
“Stay back.” Her voice shook. She pressed against the barn wall, searching blindly for anything she could use as a weapon. “I’m warning you!”
He moved. Not toward her, exactly. It was more like something drew him forward that he couldn’t control. A sound rumbled from his chest. Low, vibrating through the air between them. Almost like a purr. Or a growl. She couldn’t tell which.
“Don’t you dare.”
He closed the distance in two strides, and suddenly she understood exactly how big he was. He had to lean down to get close to her, arms caging her against the wall.
His face pressed into the curve of her neck.
Every muscle locked. Her breath caught. Shock. Something. Any second now, he’d rip her throat out. Her eyes squeezed shut.
But the pain never came.
He was just... rubbing his face against her neck. Slow, deliberate movements that dragged his cheek and jaw against her skin. His breath came hot and damp against her throat, carrying the scent of cold air and something floral. Earthy, almost powdery. Not perfume. Something that smelled like it grew in the dirt. Familiar, somehow. She couldn’t place it. Not with him this close.
What is he doing?
“Stop.”
He didn’t stop. If anything, he pressed closer, one arm curling around her waist—gentle but immovable. She barely came up to his chest. He had to hunch over her to keep his face buried against her neck, like he’d die if he couldn’t stay pressed against that spot.
That vibration. God, that vibration…
