Just as my brain thinks it’s one of the twins, a gravelly hum emanates from the throat behind me. And it’s not one of theirs. They brush their mouth against the shell of my ear, tsking me. That sound overpowers the thrashing of my heart, increasing the panic.
Although I may have only heard it a few times, I recognize the tone and wish I didn’t.
His laugh warms the nape of my neck. “Where do you think you’re going, Little Ghost?”
THIRTEEN | TARYN
His rough hand is plastered on my mouth, and the one snaked around my waist soaks in the tremble that racks through every bone in my body.
The lips against my ear tilt upward, tickling the skin there. My eyes flutter closed, preparing to brace myself. His hands vanish from my body, making me colder than I already was. I turn toward him unhurriedly, fearing what I might see.
My eyes instantly magnetize to his, my lungs shriveling into raisins that deny me oxygen.
His irises are black under the silver moon, leaking through the trees and contrasting with the shadows. They are deep and bottomless, and I know instantly that he will be the thing that drags me under. Because I recognize what his eyes look like under fluorescent office lights and framed by charcoal-rimmed glasses. A glacier green that takes my breath away, but the magic evaporates when his mouth opens, breaking the spell. Eyes that I’ll never escape from even after I’m buried six feet underground.
My mouth parts, and I stare at him as a sadistic grin holds me completely still.
“A—Alaric,” I breathe. I retreat a step, my back hitting something hard. My hands drop, magnetizing to the apple tree behind me.
His head cocks to the side, his mouth faltering as if in disappointment. “Try again.”
I swallow, my focus dropping to the dark ink on his wrists under the sleeves of the gray sweatshirt he wore earlier when I glared at him out the window. His hair is messier than the last time I saw him but lightly styled, and his glasses and nice attire are gone.
He’s mouthwatering standing before me, messy and rugged like this.
And that’s a problem.
When I remain silent, he steps into me, placing one hand above my head on the tree. He tucks a strand of loose hair—wild and frizzy from sweat—behind my ear. “I’m a little offended my brothers didn’t talk about me more. Or warn you, should I say.”
He places the pad of his thumb directly on my flushed forehead, rooting me to the ground. He drags it down the middle of my face, over the curve and bridge of my nose, and my top lip until his force becomes more demanding, pulling my lower lip downward. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until the inferno in my chest makes me release a sob. He smirks.
My eyes widen, and I choke on the lump in my throat. “Colten.”
He is at least a foot and a half taller than me and peers down into my damn frightened soul. The heat from our bodies creates something suffocating that envelops us.
He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “I love how my name sounds on your tongue when you’re running for your life.”
Liquid heat rushes between my legs, dampening my underwear. What the hell is going on? My body is confused.You should not be reacting like this.
“I—” He cocks a brow at me. “I don’t understand…” I force the words. “You interviewed me for that teaching position. You’re a principal, and you’re fucking kidnapping young girls!”
“If it makes you feel better,” his eyes roam from my shoes up my toned legs, landing on the swell of my breasts peeking out of the white tank top below my open flannel. “Nothing about you isyoung.”
I open my mouth, but the words don’t emerge.
“Also, I’m not a principal,” he says flatly as if I’m senseless for even thinking he was.
“But you interviewed me—virtually and in the office. You asked me professional questions!”Well, the first time.The gears in my head spin and spin.
“I, unfortunately, remember our time together in the office very well. It took every ounce of restraint not to throw you over that desk and shove something other than your panties down your throat to shut you up.”
“I would’ve rather killed myself with the letter opener and bled out on that desk.”
A muscle in his jaw pops. “Red is my favorite color, Little Ghost. That wouldn’t have stopped me.”
Gooseflesh breaks out over my arms, and I inadvertently knit my arms together. “You’re incorrigible.”
His eyes haven’t left mine once. “Only for you, Little Ghost.”
