Page 84 of Haunt the Mall
My breaths shallowed out, scraping my lungs raw. I grasped my cross so hard my nails bit into my palms. I was on fire. I was burning.
“It’s okay. You’re safe,” Victor rumbled, hugging me. His arms were like a cage smothering me against his chest. “Go back in the theater, and I’ll call security.”
I wasn’t someone he could shove aside until he wanted to sink his teeth in.
“Get off me,” I hissed, pushing him away.
He stepped back and widened his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? You went totally Jekyll and Hyde on me,” I blustered, a traitorous tear streaking down my cheek. I turned my head and wiped it away fast in the hopes he hadn’t seen it. “You weren’t listening; you won’t tell me anything. Then, you manhandled one of your employees. I mean, even if part of what Sam said was true—” An iron fist punched my insides at the thought of it, forcing out a miserable little sob.
He furrowed his brow. “It’s not true. I love—”
I touched his lips as pain pressed my lungs. “Don’t say it now. I won’t believe you.”
His eyes glassed over.
Fuck. This was killing me.
He was offering me an escape and a fantasy. That was probably all he wanted from me. Not crying. But I wanted real love. Not stonewalling or giant scenes where he tossed around teens for talking to me. Maybe I should’ve known he was like this the second he bit me. It was all so overwhelming.
“I have to get back to work. I have to think about everything,” I said, turning away.
“Kat—”
“It’s fine.” It was not fine. Fuck, I was shaking. I ran out of there faster than a bat out of hell. He’d already seen me cry once. I wasn’t going to do it again. Especially not without the excuse of an orgasm, and especially not when I had to face someone like Bree after my break.
Whatever was happening between us—and in theater thirteen—I needed to keep my wits about me.
The widow writhed above the stairs. She was moving fast, same as me. Metallic shrieks and rattles rose amid the slap of feet.
“Kat, wait!” My spider man chased after me, his footfall quick and light on the carpet.
I thought he’d stay to assert his dominance over that squirrelly teen. What would he say when he got to me, anyway? That he’d tell me everything? That he loved me?
It would be a soothing seduction, not a genuine confession.
I had to staunch my bleeding heart with a scary movie. Let the monsters feast on-screen. Or I could let him feast on me.
I twisted my necklace as lust thundered in my ears. I was more than a ‘vamp’ and so was he. But what was he—who was he, really? Why wouldn’t he talk about his family?
Despite him always watching, what did he see? Was I hiding something from him? From myself, maybe?
Or was our chemistry deluding us both into acting out some dark, sexy fantasy so tempting we convinced ourselves that it was reality?
Pulsing dots smeared across my blurred vision as something above me tore and creaked. Was the widow stretching? Or was this part of some spooky new programming? My Spider-Man’s strides lengthened as I staggered down the stairs.
He was bound to capture me…if he kept chasing.
I wanted him to meet me here. To know me. Intimately. Underneath all this plaid and kink beat the heart of someone good, imperfect, but worthy of being a final girl—his final girl, if he loved the real me. I wanted to know and love him just as deeply.
I paused at the curved railing and turned. “Victor, I—”
His eyes razor-focused on me. His hair floated up as he leaped off the stairs and reached for me. Sparks and bolts rained down on us like confetti. I froze, transfixed, until he slammed into me hard enough to restart my heart. My spine smacked against the railing. He protected and pinned me as a black monstrosity descended upon us.
My eardrums drowned in our pounding blood and the mechanical shrieks of the spider as she lurched and swung. Was she possessed? Malfunctioning? Karmic vengeance for not trusting the guy now protecting me?
Her pincers snapped and legs flailed.