Page 30 of Tell Me Why
Three minutes amountstozerohead start—especially in dim lighting in a house I’m not overly familiar with—but I do knowoneplace I can hide. The small hidden closet in the dining room.
Seconds later, I’m standing in the dark, heart thudding heavily against my chest, blood rushing to my head, but I do my best to swallow back the panic that rises in my throat.
This house is huge, and there are probably a million little hiding spots like this. What happens if they never find me? Do I win? Do I get a reprieve?
I’m just beginning to breathe again when a creaking floorboard snags my attention. Heavy footsteps enter the room, and my heart rate spikes. There’s something methodical about this person’s footsteps. They’re slow, measured. This guy isn’t checking the room quickly, then leaving. He’s being more thorough.
Shit.Does he know about the hidden closet?
With my ear pressed against the door, I strain to make out which direction the footsteps are heading, when suddenly they stop.
Swallowing, I squeeze my eyes shut and wait.
Please leave. Please leave. Please leave.
The silence stretches out painfully thin, and I wonder if the person left without me hearing him. I cling to that dumb hope for a second before the floorboard groans again, confirming he’s still out there. But he hasn’t pulled the door open. If he knew the hidden closet was here, then he would have exposed me already, right?
Easing away from the door, I wedge myself into the corner, just in case he can see my shadow under the door or something. I flex my hands, palms sweaty, and try to focus on my breathing.
Jesus.
I can hear him take two steps closer, three. Four.
Oh, my God.
It feels like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. I can’t catch my breath. I’m like a trapped animal, itching to get free, but with nowhere to run.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” the guy whispers tauntingly. He’s close. Right outside the door.
One heartbeat, two, and the hidden door is slowly pulled open, creaking hinges punctuating my panicked breaths. I plaster myself against the wall, like that’s going to do any good. But it’s instinct. I’m running on pure lizard brain energy right now.
Dim candlelight floods the tiny closet, silhouetting the masked man. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, but they all are, so those things tell me nothing about who he is. Stepping inside the tiny closet, he closes the door behind him, snuffing out every last flicker of light. And hope.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
His large body fills the entire space and sucks up all the air like a sponge. The silence is so fucking loud, it creates a sharp ringing in my ears. What do I do? Who is this guy?
Finally, he breaks the silence.
“Found you,” he whispers.
My mind scrambles to find a way out of this. Maybe I can rush past him and escape? But his large body is blocking the door, and anyway, outside this closet are another three or four dozen guys, all hunting for me, too.
“Please,” I manage to choke out.
He chuckles, the sound a chest-deep rumble. “That’s right, beg. Plead with me. It won’t do you any good, but I like it.”
There’s a distinct thread of mocking delight in his tone that terrifies me. Whoever this sick fuck is, he’s getting off on the fact that I’m afraid. That’s a common theme around here. I shift against the wall, and he takes a step forward.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, grasping for anything that might get through to him. “I’m sure you can have any girl you want…”
From what I’ve seen, most of the guys in the Burning Crown are tall, muscular, and attractive. So, yeah, the odds are, this guy doesn’t need to hunt a girl down like an animal to get his dick wet.
“You’re right.” He could easily reach out and touch me, but he doesn’t for some reason. “I can have any girl I want, and right now, I wantyou.”
Of course, he would say that. I stepped right into that one.
It’s pitch black in here, but I canfeelhim shift closer, the warmth of his body seeping into my skin. I stiffen as he brings his masked face close to mine.
