He shivered, and not from the cold. What would sex with that man be like? Would it actually be good for the first time in his life? Would it even be close to the books he constantly read? Ones he knew were unrealistic but made him long for things nonetheless.
Running footsteps pulled him from his musings, and his head shot up to see that very man speeding toward him.
“Run!” the man yelled before unsheathing two daggers strapped to his back.
Before Rowan could move, something out of his worst nightmares appeared. Dirty rags barely covered a skeletal form that still had bits of skin intact. Black pits where eyes were supposed to be aimed his way as it hissed and rushed him, bringing a strong, acrid scent of rot. His stomach lurched just as the angel from earlier dashed in front of him, making the zombie creature stop and hiss again.
Then Rowan’s eyes flared open even wider as the creature just…misted away. He frantically looked around, only to stumble back when it reappeared right in front of him. It reached out, the bone tips of its fingers just brushing his coat before the angel was pushed aside and a dagger burst through the zombie’s chest.
It let out an inhuman, loud screech, then disappeared again.
Rowan spun around, sure it would be behind him that time, but all he saw was the angel leaping high into the air as he scanned the street.
“What the fuck?” Rowan yelled as the zombie solidified right in front of him once again. He looked into those black pits of eyes, gagging from the absolutely horrid stench emanating from the thing. It snarled, its hand snapping out to grab his arm.
Pain shot through him as it squeezed over the arm ring he always wore on his bicep. He cried out as the silver pinched into his arm and tried to jerk himself free.
Instead, the zombie was yanked from him as Rowan’s fantasy man threw him a fierce glare. “Run!” he yelled again.
Rowan didn’t stick around.
His fast breaths clouded the cold air as he sped toward his apartment, his steps loud on the pavement. Panic made his thoughts a jumbled mess in his head.
What the fuck was that thing?
And why the hell is it after me?
He was a nobody. Just a chef in a popular restaurant who had nothing to do with the supernatural world. The only thing that set him apart from anyone else was his ability to see through whatever magic they used to camouflage themselves. He’d learned at an early age that most people couldn’t see them. But nobody knew what he could see—he’d never told a soul.
He hit the stairs, not even pausing on his way to the second floor, only to come to a complete halt when he saw his open front door. The living room just beyond was completely trashed, cushion stuffing covering books and his smashed television.
“Fuck that,” he muttered, turning to run back downstairs. He yanked out his keys and unlocked the Honda he had parallel parked on the street. Inside, he didn’t bother with the heat, just peeled out of his space and took off. He didn’t know whatto do or where to go. That…thing, that zombie-like thing, had obviously gotten to his place before it even came for him.
His fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard they ached, his breaths coming fast and hard.
Shit, what if he passed out?
He was getting lightheaded and dizziness swamped him. Pulling to the side of the road, he parked and rested his forehead on the wheel, eyes shut tight.
Those two guys couldn’t have been there by accident—they must have known that thing was coming. Was that why they’d been in the restaurant? Was that why his fantasy man had stared so hard into his eyes?
He raised his head. His vision was blurry, so he blinked hard until the dark, empty street came back into focus. He couldn’t go home, and staying in town would be idiotic.
With his body and mind crashing from the adrenaline, he knew he couldn’t go far. All he knew was that he had to hide.
Glancing over his shoulder, he pulled back onto the street.
The whole time he drove to the next town, he had to work hard to stop a full-on panic attack. He tried to ground himself into reality. The way his warm breath puffed into the still-cold air. The feel of the steering wheel beneath his hands. The sound of the motor as he drove. Mostly, though, he just heard the pounding of his heart.
By the time he pulled into the parking lot of a small motel, he’d brought himself under control. This was going to be an expense he hadn’t budgeted for this month, but luckily he had a small savings he could dip into. He quickly got a room, and once inside, he locked the door and just stood in the clean but shabby room. He barely paid attention to the decor—didn’t give a shit about any of that. All he could think about was that zombie creature and the way its empty eyes sockets had seemed to be looking at him.
His arm hurt, so he shrugged out of his coat and sweater, then tugged his T-shirt over his head, wincing at the pain. Looking in the mirror, he grimaced at the dark bruises already forming on his bicep around the ring. He took that off, noting the bruising was worse where the silver had dug into his arm. Setting the ring on the dresser beneath the mirror, he tugged his clothes back on. Something told him he didn’t want to be without clothes in case that thing found him again.
Something told him it would.That it hadn’t found whatever it was after. He slipped the arm ring into the pocket of his coat so he wouldn’t accidentally leave it. His great-grandfather had given it to him when he was twelve, telling him it was a part of their family treasure and to keep it always. He’d worn it since. It wasn’t worth anything really, just a hammered piece of Viking silver. Had probably been worth more before his mother removed the three jewels it used to have. But it meant something to him. He’d been close to his great-grandfather, had mourned him deeply when he’d passed away. Rowan had been only fifteen, the loss of his great-grandfather a dark stain on his teen years.
He looked around the room, finally taking in the full-sized bed covered in a navy quilt and the beach paintings on the wall. It felt surreal, being here.
As he crawled fully clothed onto the bed, he had the strongest feeling that everything about his life was about to change.
