Page 117 of Hunting Pretty

This large gothic bedroom had made me uneasy from the day I arrived here, made me feel like I was being swallowed up in the black maw of a monster, but the touches of pale pink that he’d surprised me with helped.

Gifts to help me settle into my new home.

With my new family.

A soft throw draped across the bed, the faint blush of pillows and brand-new pink velvet drapes that almost seemed out of place against the ornate dark wood paneling and iron chandelier.

Through my shimmering eyes I noticed the door of my bedroom inch open.

If I tensed against him, he didn’t notice. He continued to caress me and gently comfort me, his chest firm against my back.

I stared at the sliver of black which opened into the hallway.

Someone was out there.

Someone was watching.

I couldn’t make out the outline, but I felt their presence.

It seemed to make the air in the bedroom thinner. I struggled to breathe as I stared into the darkness.

Behind me, he continued to exhale kind words into my tangle of hair.

I became too aware of how close his body was to mine. His hand on my arm was suddenly too intimate. He shouldn’t be placing his lips against my ear. He shouldn’t have his arm between my breasts, squeezing me tight.

“You should go,” I whispered, terror making my words stutter. “If we get caught, you’ll get in trouble.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take it.”

“But brothers and sisters shouldn’t… shouldn’tdothis.”

He turned my face to his, his lovely blue eyes, rimmed with charcoal lashes, flashed like lightning in the moonlight.

“I don’t care,” he said, palm against my cheek. “I’m not leaving you.”

I gasped in my bed with my stalker wrapped around me once more.

If my memory was to be believed, he wasn’t just my childhood best friend… he was my foster brother.

I needed answers. I needed him to acknowledge that these memories were real.

I shifted, turning to face my stalker, my hot water bottle left ignored on the mattress.

His face was all hard edges and intensity. His jaw, sharp enough to cut glass, clenched as he stared back at me, those pale-blue eyes piercing through the shadows between us.

Looking at him, I couldn’t deny it: he was as terrifying as he was beautiful.

He tensed, his breath sucking in between those perfect lips. “What are you doing?”

I brushed strands of hair from his forehead. “I remember you…”

He flinched against me and frowned. Like he wasn’t used to being touched so tenderly. “W-what do you remember?”

“You were my foster brother,” I said.

He stared at me for the longest moment. Then he let out a sigh. “Yes.”

Finally. Answers. Truth.

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