Page 16 of Fanged Temptation

The store across the way was sleek and modern, the mannequins in the window dressed in a muted palette of chic, minimalist designs. But it wasn’t the clothes that caught my attention.

It was the woman.

She stood among the mannequins, utterly still. Her waxy, pale skin was blemish-free, poreless like pouring cream. Dark, vacant eyes like marbles in her skull. Staring at me.

She didn’t belong there – not in her old-fashioned blouse with delicate lace detailing, her long, high-waisted skirt, or her polished boots. Her hair was perfectly styled in soft waves of platinum blonde, her presence as deliberate as it was unnerving.

My breath hitched and I stared back, the scene around me fading to grey like the woman was draining the color from the world.

“Maxine?” Leah’s voice cut through the fog.

I blinked, and the woman was gone.

In her place stood a mannequin, pale plastic face turned downward, hands posed elegantly.

My pulse drummed in my ears, prickles of unease trickling down my spine.

“Maxine,” Leah said again, this time with more force.

I turned toward her, startled to find her standing at my shoulder. “What?”

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I hesitated, my mouth dry. “I’m fine. I just... thought I recognized someone.”

Leah’s brow furrowed, but she let it go, her gaze dropping to the bags I was carrying. “You’re not seriously planning to haul those around all day, are you?”

“Of course not.” I shook my head, easing out my coiled nerves and shooting her a grin. “That’s why I brought you along.”

She rolled her eyes, but stuck out a hand to relieve me of my bags, muttering something under her breath about poor financial decisions.

As we moved toward the escalators I glanced back over my shoulder at the store window.

I told myself it was nothing – stress, maybe. Definitely stress. But as we descended to the next level the faint unease remained, the unsettling feeling of being watched curling around the edges of my thoughts like smoke from an extinguished flame.

8

Leah

Traipsing alongside Maxine through that uncomfortably packed mall, I couldn't help but think that perhaps I had made several poor life choices of late.

One of them was my decision to accompany Maxine on this day-long shopping spree, another my decision to haul her bags around after her – despite her being perfectly capable of carrying them herself.

“Leah!” Her voice trilled in my ear and she brandished a swath of green fabric in front of my nose. “Look at this – this would look great on you!”

We had found ourselves in yet another swanky boutique and Maxine was yet to max out her credit card, meaning I would have to endure another hour or more of her humming and hawing over various articles of clothing before she inevitably bought them all anyway.

The dress she was waving about was gorgeous, shimmering and silky, deep green like the sea.

Maxine herself was bouncing on the balls of her feet, exuding dangerous levels of excitement that did not bode well for my peace of mind. “You should try it on.”

“Nope,” I said immediately, shifting the bags in my hands and stepping around her and the no-doubt exorbitantly expensive garment. “Absolutely not.”

“Comeon, Leah.” Maxine followed me, holding the dress up against my frame with an appraising look. “Humor me.”

I glared at her, but she didn’t flinch, batting those big brown eyes of hers with an exaggerated pout.

“I’m not trying that on,” I muttered flatly.

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