Page 60 of Stone Cold Touch

“Layla.”

“What?” I shrieked.

His eyes brightened into golden pools. “You’re sexy when you’re pissed off.”

I gaped and reacted without thinking. Making a shrill sound, I slammed my hands into his hard chest. Caught off guard, he stumbled back. “You are so freaking annoying.”

Roth tipped his head back, laughing loudly. When he finally settled down, the grin was slow to slip off his face. “But on a serious note, if I did want you...” He was suddenlyrightin front of me and his fingers spanned the sides of my face. The slight touch rooted me to where I stood. So much pent-up frustration exploded like a cannon blast, rocking me. “If I did want you, would you still want him?”

I stared at him for a moment and then jerked away, breaking the contact between us. That question...well, it pissed me off and it also floored me, because how could I answer that? Icouldn’t.It wasn’t a fair question, because I never really got to have Roth and I’d known Zayne practically my whole life. When it came to the two of them, everything was tangled up.

“That’s so wrong to ask,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Cruel, even.”

A fierce and stormy emotion flickered across his face and then was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Disgusted with him and myself, I refocused, returning my attention to the floor, and found what I was searching for. The quarter-size hole. The edges were jagged, as if acid had burned straight through the floor. Kind of disturbing considering it was my blood that had done that.

“There’s nothing up here.” Roth looked around, brows raised. “Except for the stink of lost dreams and wasted potential.”

I frowned at that. “But what about down below?”

His gaze dropped to me. “Good girl. That’s where we need to head.”

“I’m not a dog,” I grumbled, standing as I wiped my hands on my jeans. “Why didn’t you just suggest that in the beginning?”

Roth didn’t reply as he strode off, walking toward one of the side doors. I fantasized about drop-kicking him in his head as I followed behind him. Neither of us spoke as we entered another old, forgotten stairwell that led into an ancient, outdated locker room.

The scent of mold and something...crustyassaulted me. I didn’t even want to breathe the combination in. Though different from the rank stench of a zombie, this smell was every bit as nauseating.

He found another light switch and only a handful of fluorescent lights kicked on. Row after row of gray, lonely looking lockers greeted us. Half the benches were broken or rotted out and odd shadows were cast upon the lockers, but as Roth neared them, he groaned.

“Slime,” he said, lip curling in distaste.

I neared one of the benches. A gunky white substance ran down the metal legs. Across the board, the matter dripped onto the floor, thick and slow like honey or syrup. I swallowed. “Is this ectoplasm?”

“Yeah, and a whole lot of it.” Roth sidestepped quickly, almost planting his boots in the puddle of grossness. “I think we’re onto something.”

“Really?” I murmured drily.

He snorted. “It’s amazing that no one at the school has seen this.” Scanning the slime-covered walls, he laughed without humor. “It would be kind of hard to explain.”

“No one has any reason to come down here.” I moved forward, careful not to step on anything that might be considered sticky. “What does all of this mean?”

Roth blew out a low breath. “Really don’t know. There are a few critters that leave behind ectoplasm. Nothing that should be in a high school.”

Walking forward, I tried to get an idea of where the blood dripping down from the ritual would have landed on this floor of the building. After a few seconds, I realized it would have landed somewhere in the vicinity of the showers.

I eyed the doorway that led to them. The light in there flickered sporadically. Steeling my shoulders, I forced my feet to move and cautiously entered the open showers. Most of the faucets and showerheads had been torn from the wall, leaving behind gaping holes. More gunk dripped out, sliding down the wall.

This...this was really gross.

“The smell is definitely worse in here...oh, and there’s your reason.” Roth placed a hand on my back, and I turned toward what he was staring at.

“Holy moly,” I said, eyes bugging.

At the back of the shower stalls, a mess of...somethinghung from the ceiling by thick whitish-gray tendrils that reminded me of a spiderweb. Except it would have to be a spider on steroids to spin something that massive. From the strings was a wrecked cocoon, its white carcass split open down the middle. The pod was hollowed out, the color of faded newspaper with a dark, oily substance splattered throughout.

It looked like something straight out of a science-fiction movie.

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