Page 42 of Hellebore

A low, dangerous chuckle vibrates against me.

“I am your stalker. I am your shadow. And you, my love… you are my darkness. We complete each other like night and the moon, inevitable. Eternal.”

He leans in, pressing his masked face into my hair, inhaling deeply with a guttural sound that makes my knees weak.

“I’ve been dreaming of your scent… your taste… for six long years.”

“Six years?” I snap out of the trance his voice put me in. “You’ve been following me for six years?”

Fear surges through me. I scream for help.

His hand clamps back over my mouth instantly, pulling us deeper into the shadows.

“No, I haven’t seen you in six years,” he says, almost pained. “I was… away.”

My mind races. It couldn’t have been him that night. His body feels nothing like the men who⁠—

“You are mine, Briar,” he continues, voice dropping into something devout and terrifying. “You can scream. You can fight. You can hate me, but I will not leave.”

His forest-green eyes look almost hurt, but that unhinged glint beneath it tells me he’s danger wrapped in a beautiful, deadly package.

He spins me again, pressing my back against the cold wall. One hand stays on my waist while the other slides down, fingers brushing the hem of my dress.

“I bet your panties are already wet for me.”

“No!” I snap, pressing my thighs together even as I feel the traitorous heat.

His eyes smirk behind the mask. “If I check and they’re wet… I’m taking them with me.”

Before I can protest, his hand slips under my dress. His fingers brush over my lace panties. My lips part on a silent gasp.

“Wet,” he growls, satisfied. “Eat the cake if you want what I’m offering.”

He steps back, slowly pulling my black lace panties down my legs. I lift each foot without thinking, frozen in place. He presses the fabric to his masked face and inhales deeply.

“Fuck… I can’t wait to have this wrapped around me.”

He stands to his full height, towering over me.

“Goodnight, my darkness.”

As he turns to leave, I manage one shaky question:

“How will you know if I eat it?”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes gleaming.

“I know everything you do, Briar.”

Then he disappears into the crowd as if he was never there.

It takes me a few minutes to restart my brain. He’s definitely not some old pervert smelling like beer and piss. Shit.

I take a deep breath, smooth down my dress, and force myself back onto the dance floor. Lucille spots me and rushes over, eyes wide with worry.

“Jesus, where the hell were you?”

“Big line at the bathroom. I followed some girls outside—” I lie smoothly.