Page 14 of Devil's Thirst

Thoughts like that right there are why you’ll never be normal.

Never was and never will be.

Unfortunately, those abnormalities in me are drawn to Isaac. Something about him calls to me. Something dark and seductive.

I told myself not to give him the time of day after our first encounter. Yet I had to open the door when I saw him through the peephole yesterday morning. I had to know what he would say.

I have a horrible feeling that this incessant curiosity about him will continue to get in the way of logic. Isaac isn’t the sort of man I should be interested in. He’s the epitome of everything I’ve tried to avoid for years—risk and danger and heartbreak.

Surely, I’m not dumb enough to ignore the dangers simply because of a pretty face.

You mean epically gorgeous?

I am so screwed.

One can only hope…

I smack my palm against my forehead like an absolute lunatic. Nothing to see here. Just a touch of crazy having a conversation with herself on her way home from work.

The universe must be enjoying the show because when my hand falls away, my gaze locks on Isaac sitting outside our apartment building entrance staring right at me.

Well played, Universe. Well played.

He’s smoking a cigarette—add that to the list of red flags that have me questioning whether I’m color-blind. I need to nod politely and keep walking. I steel myself to stay strong and chant in my head to keep going.

It’s no use.

His gravitational pull is too intense, slowing each of my steps until I stop beside him.

“Smoking’s a nasty habit.” It’s not at all what I would have said to anyone else. The comment is way too confrontational, but my frustration at his effect on me unleashes a boldness I didn’t know I had.

What’s worse? I like the Amelie he brings out. She’s confident and doesn’t take shit from anyone. She’s the me I’ve been too afraid to be.

Isaac inhales and holds my stare. I raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to respond. He does, but not in the way I expect. He blows a long stream of smoke past full lips, then extinguishes the butt on the sidewalk beneath his booted foot.

I’m struck with a sense of déjà vu at the similarity to my odd exchange with the watcher at the theater. Before I can examine the thought more closely, Isaac responds in a gravelly, smoke-worn voice that captures my every sense. Rugged and raw, just like him.

“You have an admirer?” His gaze drifts behind me down the sidewalk.

I glance back and immediately hone in on a man in a dark sweatshirt with the hood up leaning against the building next door. He’s not super close—probably fifty feet away. He’s looking away, so even if it wasn’t dark, I still wouldn’t be able to see his face, but I don’t need to. It’s the man from the theater. His clothes are the same, and he’s got the same build. The same casual menace about him.

My blood plummets to my feet so quickly that my head spins.

He followed me home.

Has he done it before? Does he show up at every practice in addition to solo sessions?

Tonight was a regular full-cast rehearsal. I didn’t stay late. Had he been inside while the others were there, or had he waited for me on the street? I never sensed him in the slightest.

That, more than anything, terrifies me.

If The Society wanted to threaten me, they’d make themselves heard. I’d been so confident that was why the man was watching me. Following me. He was sent as a warning. From the minute he stepped out of the shadows, I assumed that was his purpose. But the longer this goes on, the more my thoughts cloud with uncertainty.

I was already unsure why The Society would hound me now when I’ve done nothing wrong. When he showed up in the dressing room, I wondered if he might not have been sent by anyone.

The Society is vile, but at least its intentions have always been clear. If this man is acting on his own, he’s a complete unknown.

The question I first asked him resounds in my head.What do you want from me?

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