Page 2 of When Death Whispers

So go away before it’s dawn.

You can’t scare me, not tonight,

Daddy’s here, and I’ve got light.”

My voice shakes through the words. I keep singing even though tears sting my eyes.

COME HERE, MY SWEET PARKER.

The voice echoes through the room like it’s coming from everywhere. I try to back away, but my heel snags on the hallway carpet and I fall down hard. The breath whooshes out of me—like the time I fell off the swing and landed funny.

Then I feel it—cold and scratchy fingers around my ankle.

Not pretend. Not imaginary.

Real.

YOU’RE MINE, SNOW PEA.

I scream. I scream for Daddy as loud as I can, but it’s too late.

1

“Parker.”

The voice snaps me out of my thoughts, dragging me back to reality. I blink, shaking off the mental fog.

“Sleeping on the job again, eh, Snow Pea?”

Hudson Carter’s teasing voice wraps around me, dangerously warm, but the nickname slices straight through me, sharp and cold as a razor blade. I flinch slightly, my pulse quickening as memories surge—dark whispers, shadows coiling around me, the rasp ofhisvoice murmuring the same name in the dark.

Hudson doesn’t know. How could he?

He doesn’t understand what the nickname means—what it brings back. Why I work the night shift. Why I don’t like the dark. Why I keep my lights on even when I sleep.

I keep my eyes locked on the cake in front of me, hands trembling slightly as I set down the knife to pipe blue flowers along the whipped buttercream border. If I don’t respond, maybe he’ll let it go.

But Hudson isn’t good with hints and is incapable of reading a room. I’m pretty sure he believes he can charm his way into any situation. Maybe he can.

“We’ve still got five cake orders to finish tonight, and half the sourdough loaves still need designs before going in the oven.”

It’s just the two of us in the bakery right now; Betty’s out back on break, leaving me alone with him. Hudson, Creek Haven’s golden boy, shift supervisor—and my personal source of temptation and frustration.

Lucky me.

“They won’t decorate themselves, you know,” he teases softly, leaning against the counter beside me. His shoulder brushes mine, sending sparks dancing along my skin.

I sigh dramatically, feigning annoyance to hide the way my pulse quickens at his closeness. I secretly crave these small moments, the warmth in his voice, the brief touches that are the closest I ever allow myself to true human interaction.

But getting involved with Hudson isn’t an option. The last thing I need is someone else’s blood on my conscience—or worse, Hudson’s name at the top of my monster’s list.

“Let’s pick up the pace, Snow Pea,” he adds with a grin. “Don’t make me start charging you rent for standing around looking cute.”

My breath stutters.

There it is again.

That name.

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