Partygoers stop to watch the scene unfold. A couple guys help Mitchell to his feet, but the rest are smart enough to keep their distance from the creature who’s pulsing out hot energy into the room. Only he doesn’t notice anyone other than me.
His fists tremble at his sides as he glares at me with a look of pure fury that could rival the burn of the sun.
Someone shoves him. He doesn’t move an inch. Others yell at him. I don’t make out a thing. Neither does he. It’s all white noise and crackling static between us. He doesn’t see them.
Only me.
That frightens me more than when part of Mitchell’s body moves through me, and the trance dissipates. Our stare finally breaks, and he tries to step around me, the rage of the Devil himself lighting his eyes.
I block him, placing both hands on Lynx’s chest to try to snap him out of whateverthisis. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop it.”
Strong fingers thread through my hair to pull my head back so I’m staring up at him. Electric fire zips down my spine when his eyes flash red. Any thought about our audience and what they might see, given I’m invisible, slips from my mind when he closes the distance until our lips are only an inch apart. His hot breath fans over my skin, and my core spirals from the winding tension.
My lungs stutter when my gaze falls to his lips to watch him rasp, “This is your fault. It’s either you or him.”
Goosebumps rain over me. I become hyper aware of every exposed surface of my skin, and how his heavy breaths warm the curve of my chest.
“W-what?”
“You heard me perfectly fine.” His hand falls from my hair, yet he doesn’t step away. “Run, or someone else dies tonight.”
I stagger back, ignoring everything around me; the guys yelling at Lynx, the pump of the music, the whispers of curiosity as people stare our way. I couldn’t pay attention to them even if I wanted to. My nonexistent heart hammers in my chest, and every retort and angry string of words vanishes from my mind.
All I recognize is Lynx’s hungry eyes, which flicker between blue and red, and the aching need building low in my stomach.
So I do it. I give the predator what he wants.
I run.
18
Lynx
Fuck.
Sable’s hair flows behind her as she runs from the room. Blood pumps through my veins, begging me to go after her, to appear beside her and take her right there, not giving a shit if any of these humans see. It’ll be my claim on her—touch her and I’ll fucking gut them dry.
The fact that she’s been parading around this house looking the way she does, trying to grab someone’s attention fucks me off. She had no reason to want their attention. It’s not like any of them could see her, let alone save her.
Irritation gnaws at me. Fucking sue me if I’m spiraling from jealousy. I’m about to erupt, and none of these idiots deserve to be beheaded. But if it happens, it happens.
I knew the second her gaze landed on him, thathuman, there was something. History, most likely. A past between them both.
I didn’t like it. Still don’t.
My little ghost once belonged to someone else, and even though she drives me insane, her soul belongs to me. And only me. I killed her, and it’s become clear to me she thinks that means she still has free reign to fuck around with any other person who isn’t me.
Now I need to stake my claim.
Well, ghost girl, when I catch you, you’re mine. Death was never going to save you from me.You’re bound to me for eternity, and I’m going to make it worth every moment.
Twenty seconds is all I’ve allowed her to run—she wanted this to happen, so I won’t wait any longer.
I glance around the room, crack my neck to the side, then materialize in the main entranceway. If I try to travel far, I’ll leave behind too much residue. And the last thing I want is a Tor’Oth showing up and cockblocking me.
A girl gasps in fright at my sudden appearance, but the guy she’s with latches on to her breast, drawing her attention back to him.
My eyes close, and I inhale, trying to feelher, sense her, fucking smell the scent of her nearby. But when I don’t catch anything, I appear in the dining room, the tunnel under the house, then in the second-floor bathroom. Gritting my teeth, I throw the door open into the corridor containing the bedrooms of the west wing.
