Page 19 of Black Heart

My throat works as I force myself not to shudder. “You’re just trying to scare me. You’re nothing but a psycho, breaking into my home, watching me, studying me, and probably jerking off as you watch me undress. It’syouwho wants me in a cage.”

He doesn’t flinch. “If I wanted you in a cage, you’d already be there. Tied up and at my mercy.”

I recoil, disgust and—arousal—warring within me. Thisman, he scares me, but I can’t deny the thrill of the unknown that comes with being in his presence.

“Then why aren’t I?” I ask. The question is bold, but my voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because,” he says, prowling closer. “You’re not my prisoner. You’re my lure. And I need you exactly where you are.”

“Lure?” I repeat, confused.

“Yes,” he says, his voice low. “I want to keep you until Morelli can’t resist coming for you himself. Until then, I will own you.”

“You’re sick,” I spit out, trying to keep my voice steady. “And I don’t know why I’m still talking to you.”

His chest rumbles before he moves so fast, he seems to teleport into my space and catches me mid-spin, preventing me from going anywhere. It’s an amused sound that sets my nerves on edge.

“Admit it. You’re curious. You want to know more about me.”

“I don’t want to know anything about you,” I grit out, trying to wrench out of his hold.

He matches my backward dance, keeping our unnerving proximity to each other. “That’s not true. You’re drawn to me, just like I’m drawn to you.”

“I’msickenedby you,” I say, but my voice is weaker this time. “I’m afraid of you.”

He reaches out with his free hand and brushes his fingers against my cheek. And instead of flinching, my lips go slack under his touch. “But fear can be so exhilarating, can’t it? The rush of adrenaline, the pounding of your heart. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that. But watching you experience it. Fuck, it’s like an entirely new high.”

I push his hand away in a surge of anger.

“You need help,” I repeat. “And it won’t be from me.”

“Is that so?” he says, his eyes gleaming with his own personal vendetta. “By now you realize the mistake you made. That strip-tease you did for me, you thought it was enough of a ruse to allow you to escape. Instead, all it did was mark you as mine. I’ve seen you, Wraithling, and I want all of you now.”

A panicked noise comes out of my throat, one I’ve never heard before, but I wriggle enough to get out of his hold and stumble into a run.

His laughter follows me, carried by the wind, caressing my cheeks with the damp air.

No. My cheeks aren’t wet from the atmosphere.

My hand comes to my face to confirm, puffs of air bursting out of my mouth as I sprint down the dirt road.

The tears burn trails down my face, each drop a shining scream of rage—at him, at myself, at this new life I never knew I had to fear.

8

KADEN

“Idiot,” I mutter under my breath as I crouch behind a large, overturned rowboat, partially buried in the sand near the lighthouse.

Its paint is peeling, revealing weathered stone and rusted metal. The abandoned structure casts a long shadow in the fading light of the day over Layla’s small house.

I watch the silhouette of my next victim skulk around a craggy outcrop of rock, edging closer to what’s mine. The person’s cautious movements and frequent glances over their shoulder suggest they’re not just a curious trespasser. But he fails to pause or check his surroundings in detail, his overconfidence in hunting down a twenty-four-year-old girl clouding his judgment.

He has no idea that a scythe has attached itself to her shadow.

In the past twenty-four hours, Layla’s property and Layla herself have been silent. She ran from me in the forest, which was expected. Her return to the lightkeeper’s cottage was apossibility but not a certainty. Yet when I resumed my watch, there she was, curled up on her bed and sobbing.

I don’t feel guilt. The wraithling needs to understand the seriousness of her situation.

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