Page 21 of Little Blue

A frigging closet.

I spin around only to find he’s nearly on me. I don’t think as I fall into the massive closet, taking a step back for every step he takes forward. He’s stalking me, like a hunter stalking a deer. A wolf stalking a rabbit. I’m the prey. We continue this treacherous dance of one step forward and one step back until I feel my back bump the wall.

I have nowhere to go now. There is no escape from this. From him.

With the wall at my back the platter that serves me to the predator that stalks me, I’m helpless.

I can try to fight him—but he’s so much bigger than me. Even now, as he moves in closer, his steps slow and confident, as though he’s playing with his food, I don’t even come to the top of his shoulders. I inherited my mother’s frame and have never cursed that fact quite like I do now. The man has got to be six-foot-five, and he’s no beanpole. I’m all of five-foot-two. On a really windy day, the threat I might blow away is real.

I can’t fight him. I have no hope.

My heart sinks. He comes in close, so close. Too close.

I whimper. “Please.”

“Please, what, Little Blue?”

“D-don’t kill me.” Oh, God. I’m crying now.

No, I’m not crying. I’m sobbing. Big, gusting sobs that assault my entire body, from head to toe.

I’ve never been afraid like this.

I realize, in all the perilous moments I’ve lived through, I’ve never truly feared I would die.

It hits differently when you’re presented with the end.

“P-please.”

I flinch when he lifts his large, inked hand with those broken knuckles, to my face. His touch is firm, and yet—it’s impossibly tender.

He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his terrifyingly captivating blue gaze. Then he lifts his other hand until he’s cradling my face between his murderous paws as though it’s something to be cherished. The pads of his thumbs wipe away my tears, only for more to fall.

I can’t stop crying.

My entire body is shaking. Quaking. I feel like I’m going to break apart at the seams, spilling terror and grief.

“Irelynn,” the way he says my name, soft seeping through the rough, has a shuddering breath rocketing through my chest. “I will not hurt you. Not ever.”

“You said,” I gasp. “You k-kill people.”

“Not you.”

He wipes at another stream of tears. I can’t seem to stop the flow.

“Please, take me home,” I beg. “I want to go home.”

“No.” He doesn’t even look regretful. Just a simple no. As though he’s telling a child they can’t have more candy.

“I don’t—understand.”

His eyes search mine, before he tracks another stream of tears. When his head angles closer, I think for a moment, he’s going to kiss me. I stop breathing altogether, my body locking. He stills, a sigh tipping over his lips in a burst of spiced berries and winter that burns my lungs.

Oh God, I’m breathing him into my body.

And my body—hums.

I don’t understand what is happening.

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