Grey closed the space between us, and everything else faded around me. “What happened in the bathroom?” he repeated the question from earlier.
“I don’t know. I was…” Heat stained my cheeks as I remembered the reason I’d been in the bathroom in the first place. I cleared my throat and continued. “A spirit appeared, but I couldn’t get out of the room because the door was locked. She reached out and touched me.”
“On your shoulder?” he asked.
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Because it left a mark.”
Grey brought a finger to my shoulder, gently running it over the reddened outline of a handprint. My body ignited at his touch. Wanting—no needing—more.
People spilled out of the house, stopping to chat next to us on the porch. A couple pushed past us, sucking each other’s faces, only breaking apart for a split second for air.
Reluctantly, I pulled away from him, instantly missing the warmth. “Wait, what are you doing here?” My head tilted to the side. “How did you find me?” I took a small step back, putting a little more distance between us.
His eyes narrowed to slits, the whites all but gone as I stared into pitch black pools. All the warmth from our earlier conversation vanished. “You left town right after making ourdeal. There is no running away from this. I don’t think you fully understand, little witch,” Grey whispered. His eyes, glowing faintly with an unnatural yellow hue. “If you fail, I get your soul.”
I stood there, rooted to the spot, as Grey's words were like chains, wrapping around me, tightening with every breath. I knew there would be consequences, but hearing him say it out loud made my stomach churn.
“And I wouldn’t mind owning your soul. Keep that in mind, and I’ll see you again real soon.”
I was in big trouble. Because deep down, a tiny voice whispered that even if I succeeded, I would never truly be free. Not from him.
CHAPTER 14
LYRA
Kenna hadn’t vacated the apartment all week. Her lifeless body lay on the couch in a cold medicine induced slumber. The trash can next to her overflowed with tissues and empty bottles of NyQuil. A sinus infection had hit her hard, and I hoped it wasn’t coming for me next.
Surprisingly, the past couple of days had felt strangely normal. I went to class, studied, and even had time to start a new true crime documentary. I still found myself looking over my shoulder, expecting to see those amber eyes that haunted my dreams. But Grey had kept his distance.
I packed up my backpack and trekked across campus, excited to spend a quiet Friday night in the library. I stopped at the café on the corner of campus to pick up my mobile order. My name was sloppily written on one of the many iced coffees littering the counter. I guess I wasn’t the only one expecting a late night.
The library was a ghost town, which meant I got my pick of tables, a privilege typically reserved for those who arrived first thing in the morning. I sat at my favorite—a table in the back, hidden between rows of bookshelves—and got to work.
After an hour, the lights overhead flickered. I stopped writing mid-sentence, dragging my eyes away from my computer screento look around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the silence I typically found comforting now made my stomach twist.
I shoved my headphones in, trying to focus on the task at hand, letting the music drown out the unsettling silence. I had just selected a song from myGet Shit Doneplaylist when the chair on the other side of the table scraped across the floor. I lifted my head to find a broody Grey, a frown plastered on that stupid-handsome face of his.
An audible sigh escaped my lips as he sat. I pushed up my wire-rimmed glasses that slid down the bridge of my nose, removed my headphones, and crossed my arms.
The black T-shirt he wore exposed the snake tattoos wrapped around his forearm. The snake looked like it was slithering toward his hand each time he flexed.
“Don’t act like you aren’t excited to see me.” Grey’s raspy voice grated against the silence.
I stirred my iced coffee I’d barely touched, and took a long sip, trying my best to ignore his presence.
“Wild Friday night,” he said, taking in my disheveled appearance—the oversized sweatshirt, leggings, messy bun, and dark circles. I sank lower in my chair, suddenly self-conscious.
“Are you here to threaten me again?”
“I’m just checking in,” he said, that smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
Heat spread up my chest to my cheeks, staining them bright red. I prayed the awful fluorescent lighting didn’t put it on full display, but the look he gave me said otherwise. It was maddening. I hated how easily he affected me, how just a look—thatdamn smirk—could send my pulse into a frenzy.
“Lucky me,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Trying to salvage the little dignity I had left. The library was my sanctuary, my place of quiet and focus. Yet he sat there like he owned everydamn inch of it. He stretched out his legs in front of him, knocking my Converse with his boot.
“This doesn’t look like schoolwork.” He said, gathering the loose-leaf paper strewn about the table.
