He’s creeping toward me, hands balling into fists at his sides, the tendons in his neck bulging, and I realize he has me backed into a corner when my shoulders connect with the wall.
“I’m not going to tell you again. You need to leave.”
“What?” He stops when there’s just two feet of space between us, pausing for effect. “You afraid or something?”
I shake my head, hiding my quivering hands behind my back. “Not afraid, no. Just wondering . . .” I quiet, sniffing the air as I mentally prepare myself for my next move. “What kind of cologne you wear. Some kind of spice?”
A blank look crosses his face. I’ve thrown him off. And that’s my cue. I feel the impact against my knee at the same time his yelp sounds, just before he folds over.
Holy crap. That really works.
“Fuck,” he squeaks. “I wasn’t even gonna touch you. But now—”
I rush to step around him but my head falls back as he grabs me by the hair. This time I yelp, a wave of pain running through my scalp, my neck. Before I can twist myself around to face him, the hold over my hair suddenly disappears, the unexpected release making me stumble to the floor. I look up, and it takes me a second to figure out what I’m seeing. My breathing all but stops once I do.
Dylan is frozen in place. With Death right behind him. One muscular arm is wrapped around Dylan’s neck, locking him in place with ease. Dylan’s chest rises and falls with quick, short movements. “Wh-who’s there?”
Death doesn’t hesitate, his low voice snaking around my body, hugging every curve it touches. “Who I am doesn’t matter. It’s who you are, and what you do after this moment, that does.”
My eyes dart between the pair of them, one shaking as though he’s about to pee himself, the other deadly calm. I had been assuming Dylan couldn’t hear Death’s voice, since no one other than me had before, but the way the guy’s ears are perked up, his head angling toward where the sound’s coming from, makes me think otherwise.
“You’re going to walk out of here and never come back. You will never touch her, look at her, or evenbreathein the same space as her again. Do you understand?”
“I-I-I—”
“I said”—the chokehold tightens, Dylan’s reddening face the only giveaway—“do you understand?”
“Y-yes,” he wheezes. “I under . . . stand.”
The instant Dylan’s released, he’s grabbing at his throat with both hands, tripping over his feet to get to the door. I think I hear him mutter something like ‘frickin mollies’ as he ducks down the hall. I let out a breath, the relief at his absence instantaneous. After locking the door, I slowly turn to face the man whose mere presence has been sending heat waves across my skin.
Chapter 35
He’s still eyingthe closed door, his face a stone-hard mask, eyes deadly. His shoulders are tight like he’s braced to fight, and I know I need to snap him out of it somehow.
“Hey . . .” There’s a slight tick of his jaw, but that’s it. I try again. “Look at me.”
After a moment, he closes his eyes. His stance relaxes just barely, and he eventually turns to face me. All at once, the mask melts away. His brows crease together, the sea of green in his eyes softening to an almost pained expression. It’s a quiet look filled with unspoken thoughts, and it makes me take a step toward him. And another.
“You came for me.”
Body rigid, his gaze drops to my lips. It’s a quiet rasp when he says, “Of course I came for you.”
God, just hearing that voice again, watching the way he looks at me as he speaks. I have the strangest desire to curl into his chest, wrap my arms around his neck, press my lips to his skin. I let out a breath, shaking the impulse away. “So that’s what it takes to get your attention these days? A psycho in my room?”
I’m about to take another step closer when he swallows, shakes his head, steps back. “I’m not staying, Lou. I can’t stay.”
“What?” I stop and frown. “Why? You just got here.”
His lips press together. He looks away, closes his eyes again. “It’s good seeing you, Lou. Always is.”
Then he turns so his back is to me, the ridges of his shoulders tensing as he rakes a hand through his hair, and he starts to fade. I’ve seen it so many times before. I’ve watched him leave, watched as he disappeared from my sight. From my grasp. Not this time.
I don’t even think before I’m striding toward him. Just before he can vanish completely, I step into his space and grab his arm, my hand curling around the hard lines of his bicep. Something shifts around us, in the air, below our feet.
“What are you doing?” he quietly growls. “You need to let go. Now.”
“No. You don’t get to keep doing that, leaving whenever it suits you.”
