I shake my head slowly. “Lights are still on.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I see the confusion flicker in his expression. I get it. I don’t know what the hell just happened either. I couldn’t explain it if I tried. I was standing out here, listening to his racket in the other room, then bam, it was as if someone had come along and placed a pair of noise-cancelling headphones on me without my consent.
Scott opens the kit on the counter, pulling out the remaining pieces. He dabs the blood away silently with gauze,his movements calculated and careful. His fingers brush mine as he works, and even though the pain flares with every touch, I barely notice it.
I can’t tear my eyes away from the darkness beyond the fogged-up glass. Maybe it’s the blood loss, the alcohol, or this wildly unnerving evening, but the darkness shifts.
Something’s out there.
Something. Someone. I don’t know.
It’s not just the storm beating against the cabin walls, looking for a way in.
Scott works away, unaware of the allusive threat lying in wait beyond the locked doors. He wraps my hand, tightening the bandage to keep the gauze in place. The pull against my wound should bring me back to center, shake my mind from its runaway thoughts, but I can’t take my eyes off the shadows that shouldn’t exist without light.
They don’t move. Yet they’re not quite still, either.
Something’s waiting.
SIX
SCOTT
“There. You should be set for now. It’s gonna throb like a bitch, but that’s nothing another glass of whiskey won’t fix.”
Ava doesn’t jump at the offer as I expect. Instead, her gaze slides past me, unfocused. She’s staring over my shoulder, out the covered window behind me, eyes narrowed like she’s trying to make something out in the distance.
I follow her gaze, half-turning, but her hand lashes out, catching my arm in a tight grip. Her fingernails dig in hard enough to leave crescent-shaped moons.
“Don’t,” she whispers, voice pleading.
“What’s going on, Ava?”
“I… I think…” She shakes her head, eyes refocusing on mine, like she’s cleared the cobwebs free. “I think the blood loss and alcohol are getting to my head. I should lie down. You good to clean up?”
That’s not what she was going to say. I know it. But I let it go. It’s late, and she’s had a long few hours.
“Yeah. I got it from here. You go lie down. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She releases her grip, slowly. Her fingers trail off my arm, and the warmth of her touch lingers longer than it should. The lust that had settled into a low simmer while I was wrapping her hand flares again for a beat. It’s enough to have my imagination running wild with scenes of her claws down my back, her legs wrapped around me, her tight wet?—
Fuck. Stop it, Scott.
Not Ava. Especially, not now when we’re stranded up here, just the two of us, no one around for miles. No one to catch me if I just?—
It’s too easy to slip into the fantasies. Too tempting to draw them into reality.
Her bedroom door shuts softly behind her, and the sound snaps me out of it. I drag a hand over my face and move to clean up. The bloody gauze and torn bandages litter the kitchen counter. The dishes from my half-eaten dinner are still waiting at the table for my return.
By the time I finish, her door’s ajar again. I pause in the hallway and glance through the narrow opening. Just enough to check on her. The room beyond it is dark, but shadows cast from the fire and dance along the pine walls in long, crooked shapes. She’s curled up under the quilt, back to the door. Her shoulders rise and fall with each stable breath.
I turn away and head to my own room. The wood stove hasn’t been lit, but it’s late, and morning will come too soon. The icy air causes my breath to cloud faintly, but I strip off my clothes and crawl into bed, ignoring the shiver the cold sheets send down my spine. The old mattress sags, groaning under me as the well-worn springs protest against my weight.
I grab the book I’ve been picking at all week. A horrorabout a couple on their honeymoon, set in the Appalachian mountains. I try to lose myself in it, but the words swim across the page as my mind drifts back to the sleeping girl in the room down the hall.
Something about Ava was off earlier. She’s been stiff and uncomfortable since dinner, but it was more than that. It was almost as if she didn’t want me to see something outside.
For a moment, I think I hear footsteps crunching along the exterior of the cabin on the other side of my window, but it fades, or maybe it’s just my mind working to add another problem to the puzzle. Then again, it could have been a brave animal out for the night, looking for their next meal. Nothing sinister at all, I tell myself that and try to refocus on the page for the third time.
