“Hey,” I try again. “Just talk to me, and maybe we can figure this out.”
“There’s not much chance of that,” he mutters.
Does he sound familiar?
“I get that you’re… upset, but this isn’t the way. You could get into a lot of trouble,” I say.
He laughs. “I’m already in a lot of trouble.”
Shit.
Before I can think of anything else, I hear the jangling of his keys as he finally pulls them out of his pocket. My heart slams up into my throat as I realize he’s actually going to put me in the car, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.
“Wait—” I gasp as he grabs my shoulder again. I’m pulled back sharply, then turned around as he shoves me back against the car again.
My breath bursts out of my chest as my back slaps against the car door, and my eyes desperately search the shadowy form in front of me, looking for details I can commit to memory so I can tell the cops later.
Wishful thinking.
He steps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder, looking deeply into my eyes. There is a little light from a far-off streetlight, and even though I can’t see much, I recognize his features.
“Shane?” I gasp, my chest emptying out all my held breath as I succumb to shock. “Shane Skylar?”
“Yes,” he grunts. “You’re Hyacinth, right?”
I nod slowly, my eyes fixed on his face. In the darkness with only faint light to see by, I don’t see his striking coloring. I only recognize his sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and bow-shaped mouth because I’ve spent far too long looking at them.
That night I went out with Trina and met her friends at the bar… Shane didn’t stay long, but I noticed him, that’s for sure.
To my horror, a flicker of warmth awakens inside me, and suddenly I’m far too aware of his hand on my shoulder and how close he is to me.
Maybe this is a kinky game or something…
“Right,” I croak, thinking fast. “Shane, can we talk? Whatever you’ve got going on here, I think you should share it with me. I might agree to go with you if you’d just explain.”
Shane leans in close to me, inhaling slowly. He closes his eyes for a moment, a faint smile playing across his cute mouth.
“Interesting,” he whispers.
Did he just sniff me?
“Shane,” I try again. “Listen to me.”
“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. “There’s no fucking way you’d agree to this. I can’t explain, anyway. There’s no time.”
“What?” I choke out. “No time for what?”
“The sickness is coming!” he says, his voice desperate, his eyes so wide that they almost look crazed. “She died—if she can die from it, anyone can. I have to do something, and they said you could be the solution!”
He is out of his fucking mind.
I try to stay passive in his grip, taking in more detail as my eyes get used to the light. His eyes are wide and glassy, there’s a long line of thick stubble across his chin and top lip, and his skin is far too pale.
Is he sick? What the fuck is going on?
“Shane,” I say, trying for a soothing tone. “Just let me go for a second, and we can call—”
“No!” he yells, slamming me against the car again. “You’ll get away. I know you will. Then I can never help my pack.”
