Page 33 of Bewitched By the Phantom
“I told you I’m not ready. And neither are you,” he answers, his voice low and dangerous sounding.
It’s not my best decision, and I’m not proud of it, but I leap forward. I’m not sure what I planned to do. Maybe rip it from his face, force him to show me. It’s shitty, but a desperate need to know who he is fills me and takes over. Unfortunately for me, he’s faster than I assume he’ll be. One moment, he standing before me, the next the shadows seem to flicker in the room and he’s a few feet away. I’d blinked and missed it.
“Fine,” I snarl. “Have it your way.”
I turn toward the door with the intension of leaving.
“Don’t leave like this, angel,” he says, reaching out for me.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarl, meeting his eyes. “I don’t know you.”
I grab the doorknob and go to jerk it open but it slams shut before I can open it further. He’s surrounding me, his arms on either side of my head holding the door closed. His chest presses against my back as he leans down, his hot breath fanning across my ear.
“Your melody is woven into my blood, angel,” he growls. “You hold every piece of me in your hands, forever. You’ve got me by the fucking balls if you want. So don’t you say you don’t know me.” His breath stutters. “The mask matters little when you’re so intertwined in my soul, it hurts.”
His lips press against the nape of my neck and I shiver.
“I need to go,” I croak, desperate to get out. I need time to think. I need air. I need . . . I need . . .
He pulls back and opens the door for me. “I’ll be waiting when you’re ready to face the music, angel.”
I rush out of the room, not bothering to turn around and look at him. I can’t stomach to see his eyes right now. I can’t bear to see how much it’s hurting him for me to rush out. He’s right. I do know him. Knowing what he looks like won’t change that. But also, because I know him, it’s even more terrifying that he’s here, that I can look him in the eyes, that I’ve sang with him and didn’t even connect the dots.
What a fucking mess I’m making of it all.
Chapter
Eighteen
Claudia is the one who meets me at the door when I try to sneak back into our apartment. I’m not surprised, but I’m also a little panicked still after my interaction with Erik. She must see my wide eyes and general air of frantic “I’m fucked” because she immediately drops her grin.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, reaching for me.
“Nothing,” I say too quickly. I know I immediately make a mistake because she narrows her eyes on me.
“Are we not friends?” she demands.
“We are,” I admit, biting my lip.
“Then what the fuck is wrong? Did he hurt you? Did something happen?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t hurt me. I just . . .”
“You just what?” she asks. “Spit it out, Chris.”
I look down, anywhere but at her face. “You remember my mentor?”
“The Phantom guy who likes to keep his anonymous bullshit? Yeah. What about him?”
“It’s him,” I rasp.
She takes a step back. “I don’t understand.”
“Erik. The lead singer of Cadaver Cantata. He’s my Phantom,” I whisper.
Her jaw drops. “Shut up! You’re certain?”
I nod. “He admitted it. But also, I sent a message and his phone lit up.”
