Page 10 of Butterfly

They were being donated to the Yellow Toad, a thrift shop that raised money for homeless youth. Really, Mason should thank me for the service I was doing for him. He didn’t need all the luck. He’d be glad he was helping the community.

Although it was more likely he’d kill me.

I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

4

LESLIE

Iwoke up from a sweaty, confusing dream that left my sheets wet and me with my heart in my throat.

Someone was in my room. Watching me.

I sensed him there, in a dark corner of my room, looming and threatening. And the threat was physical, but in ways I wasn’t ready to accept yet. The dream still clung to me, hot skin against hot skin, sepia tones and the feeling of a very wrong-rightness, not quite ready to release me to consciousness.

“You talk in your sleep,” the main character from my dream remarked in a low, husky voice.

Well, now I was wide awake.

I sat straight up in bed, feeling around wildly for some sort of weapon before remembering that I was anti-violence of all kinds.

Even against sexy evil stepbrothers.

“Why are you in my room, Mason?” I asked.

“What did you do with my skates?” he asked, and his quiet tone belied a terrifying menace. This was a man who would hurt me without regret.

Still, I had promised myself I wouldn’t back down without a fight.

“Donated them to a good cause. You’re welcome,” I said, shrugging a shoulder.

Unfortunately, it made my sleep shirt slip down over my shoulder. It was too dark to see Mason’s eyes, but I could feel the heat of his stare on my bare skin. The contrast between his attention and the slight chill of the AC made goosebumps break out everywhere, and I shivered.

“No thank you,” he spat. “Because not only did you donate all my skates?—”

“—Can’t you just buy new ones?” I countered, knowing differently.

“One of the pairs were my lucky skates.”

Got him.

As scared as I was, it didn’t cancel out my satisfaction.

“Well,” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulders and hiding my bare flesh from his gaze, “I doubt a man like you needs luck.”

He stood and walked a step, then two, toward the bed.

Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod.My pulse picked up.

As he loomed over me, the dream fought its way back to the surface. He’d crawled on top of me in the dream, held me down, before he?—

“You might be right,” he acknowledged, approaching from the side and leaning down over me, so I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face. “But princess, I hope you know what you’ve done.”

“Nothing worse thanmailing my underwear to my dance studio,” I said.

“Oh, Leslie, do you really think this is the worst I can do?” his teeth gleamed in the darkness, and I watched, transfixed, as one of his hands descended, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

Had I shivered before? If that had been a shiver, this was a quake—a seismic shift in my whole body, maybe even my soul.

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