Page 49 of When Death Whispers

I don’t know what exactly I walked in on, but I have a damn good guess. Something tightens in my chest, winding like a coil, burning in my veins like wildfire catching kindling, turning everything to ash.

Am I… jealous?

The thought alone feels ridiculous, but here I am, standing in her doorway, watching her look all breathless and undone over another fuckingmonster. I know it wasn’t the shadowy fucker who stalks her from the dark. I heard the voice. And I know that voice. I heard it in a dream that didn’t feel like a dream. His presence is different. Like fire instead of ice. Like temptation instead of terror.

And now I know he’s real. Not a figment of the imagination. No, he’s as real as that shadowy fuck. Two monsters who shouldn’t fucking exist but do.

Still… she looks okay. Better than okay. She looks alive.

And that hits me harder than it should.

Because when I first met her, Parker was locked up tight, like her ribs were made of iron and her heart sealed behind caution tape. Always watching the exits. Always running from any sort of human interaction. But now, she’s standing there, breathless and undone, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted.

And not from fear.

Something happened. Something that clearly wasn’t me. And it should scare me. It should make me feel small and unworthy and human. Totally out of my depth. But all I can think is…

I want to be the one to make her look like that.

Not just because I’m attracted to her, even though I am. Obsessively so. But because she deserves more than monsters who treat her like a plaything. She deserves someone who doesn’t run. Someone who sticks around even when shit gets weird.

Then again, when it comes to Parker,everythingis weird. I don’t even think that word begins to cover it.

And I’m a fuckinggonerfor it.

Parker wouldn’t know what to do with normal anyway.

I clear my throat and hold up the sandwich I made for her, feeling like an idiot. There’s a bite taken out of it. Not by me, but the sulfur-scented demon asshole, who of course, had to help himself to Parker’s food. Again.

At this point, I’m not sure what pisses me off more—that another monster is lurking in the house, or that he stole the sandwich I made for her.

A gift. A small, silly little human gesture. And he took it like it didn’t matter.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the frustration curling low in my gut. Because none of this makes sense. I don’t belong in this world Parker’s been forced to survive in—but damn if I’m not clinging to any foothold I can find.

She finally looks up, eyes meeting mine. Pale blue, swirling with something unreadable.

“You made me a sandwich?” she asks.

There’s a beat of silence between us. I expected sass. A smirk. Not… that softness in her voice. That flicker of something vulnerable.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, voice gruffer than I mean for it to be. “Thought you might be hungry. And since we’re not working again until tomorrow night, I figured maybe we could hang out. Watch a movie or something. It’s been a couple of… busy days.”

Understatement of the goddamn year.

I wince internally, already bracing for her to shut me down or change the subject even though we shared a few playful moments not long ago. I’m not smooth around her—not anymore. I try to be, Iusedto be. I was the guy who could talk his way into or out of anything. But Parker short-circuits all of that.

Because I’m not trying to impress her. I just want to be near her. I want to see her laugh. I want to hear her talk about something stupid and mundane and not see her cloaked in fear. I want to be someone she can lean on. I want to see her flush with heat when I do something ridiculously flirty, and I want her to do it back to me.

Even if I’m a blip on the radar of her life. Even if she never looks at me the way I look at her. Even if I have to keep pretending I didn’t dream about her—about her body wrapped in shadow and pleasure, about the way she moaned my name like it meant something.

My jaw clenches, my body flashing hot at the memory of that dream. Fuck. That sexy fantasy is going to haunt me forever.

I step further into the room, taking in Parker’s space. Somehow, I feel like I’m learning more about her simply by standing here.

She watches me silently, those pale blue eyes tracking my every move. Not wary, but... curious. Like she’s not sure what I’ll touch next.

A small bookshelf in the corner catches my eye. I run my fingers over the spines, most of which seem very well-read, until one jumps out at me.

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