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Then, without warning, he looks up and stares directly at me.

With a start, I jerk back as my heart kicks hard against my ribs.

How the hell does he know where to look?

A few seconds later, my multi-slate pings with a message.

It’s from him.

i’m going out for a drink. did you want to join

I stare at the words, trying not to let them affect me.

He’s just toying with me. I know that. And yet my thumb drifts toward the reply field anyway.

after the performance you gave

The stupid thing is that those are the words that get me. Not little mouse. Not want you by my side. It’s the performance.

Because for all his flirting and games, that’s the part that feels real.

My fingers hover over the holo-pad while I debate whether answering would be a terrible idea or not when the old wooden door suddenly rattles behind me. I barely have time to look up before it yanks wide open.

Rain lashes through the doorway as I stare into the darkness beyond the staircase leading back inside the building.

Then a man steps out of the storm. He’s wearing a black suit, black gloves, and a dark mask that hides the upper half of his face. A narrow black baton hangs loosely from one hand, water dripping from its tip onto the terrace floor.

It’s him. I know it is. The man from before, from the reception, the man who was staring at me.

My entire body locks as recognition slams into me.

Wake up.

My heartbeat races. No! I want to shout. Not now!

I’m tired of being afraid, tired of being fragile. I’m tired of my own body betraying me.

But then our eyes meet, and he immediately starts forward, his pace quickening as he crosses the threshold. And for one horrible second, all I can think is run.

Panic crashes through me so fast I nearly stumble over my own feet as I scramble upright.

Good Light, I’m losing it.

The rooftop corridor blurs around me while my pulse pounds against my ribs, footsteps echoing somewhere behind me loud enough that panic surges even harder through my chest.

My multi-slate buzzes in my hand.

i’ll take that as a no

Below, engines roar to life one after another as the bikes and hover cars begin preparing to leave, the sound carrying through the storm.

then make sure that gorgeous ass of yours ends up back in my bed before i get home

Under any other circumstance, the message would probably make me blush. But right now it only makes me run faster.

The storm outside rattles the old windows lining the corridor while my breathing turns sharp and uneven.

He’s behind me now, closing in.