Chapter 4
KNOX
Idon’t wait at my place for Jett to mess with the visitors’ car like he always does. I do it myself as he yaps and yaps.
For once, I’m grateful for his big mouth. The longer he’s out there running his tour, the more time I have to slice through their gas line. To make sure they don’t leave.
He’s never screwed it up, but there’s always a first time. It’s not a chance I’m willing to take. Not when keeping Skylar here is at stake. That was why I turned on the signal jammer myself as soon as they parked, before coming closer to watch Skylar from the shadows.
Grease coats my fingers by the time I’m done. I wipe them on my jeans, adjust my mask, then slide a hand into my pocket, wrapping it around the green charm I brought from home. The one from the key ring. The one I’d taken and kept before I even knew Skylar existed.
Before her eyes—in that perfect shade of green—stared at me through Jett’s screen. She looked at me like she was born to be mine.
No, not like. She was.
I growl, closing the Rover’s hood when I hear Jett approach.
Jealousy and rage spark within me as I remember how I almost killed him earlier.
When he shook her hand.
He touched what’s mine.
Skylar.
She was beautiful. Beaming at him. Apologizing to my brother, who had every intention of torturing, then murdering her.
I wanted to snatch her from him, haul her into my family’s truck, run over anyone who dared get in our way.
Couldn’t. Not when I had a better plan that didn’t include killing anyone.
“Yo, Hide-boy,” Jett whispers, his hand on my shoulder.
“Shut up.” I bat it away. It’s all I can do not to break it in half.
If we make a scene, Skylar’s group might run over here. They’d make a scene themselves, maybe even outrun us.
Papa might shoot them on sight to keep them from getting away.
No one’s killing my woman.
“Yeah, yeah.” Rolling his eyes, Jett huffs a laugh, then takes in my dirty jeans. “You’re done here? Well, look at you. Good job, Mask-O.”
My chest rises. Falls.
I’m still not over it.
Skylar’s hand.
Was in his.
For the past week, she’s been on my mind. All the time. And he not only touched what’s mine, but he touched her first.
Jett’s eyes narrow the longer I stare him down. I stick to my silence.
Skylar and I are none of his business.
“Whatever.” He shrugs, jerking his thumb to the farmhouse. “You comin’ to wait with us over there or what?”
“Need some fresh air.” Her. I need her.
“Have it your way.” Another shrug, and he’s off.
I wish I could say I’m relieved.
Except every nerve ending in my body is on high alert. Buzzing.
Craving.
“Last time we had service was back where we parked,” Easton—whose name I learned during my social media research—says.
“Why’d we even leave the car?” Bronwyn, Skylar’s twin, whines. “We could’ve just stayed put and let Skylar chase her sick, twisted idea of fun. Now I’ve got sand in my shoes and no damn signal.”
Her sister didn’t look this cruel in the picture I found online, the family photo Skylar posted years ago.
The one where her parents and sister were smiling, while Skylar was trying hard to tilt her lips up.
I could see it hurt.
Someone hurt her.
Judging from the way her sister talks about her, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were her.
Anger turns the world red. Knowing I won’t be the one who gets to kill Bronwyn pisses me off badly. But if I want to keep Skylar close, letting my family have her sister is a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
“Easton, do you have any bars on your phone?”
I’m done listening to them and head over to track Skylar.
My footsteps are silent as I tread on centuries-old dirt. My gaze hunts for Skylar’s figure between each exhibit.
Then it happens. That loud thud in my chest.
One heartbeat, strong and violent.
She’s here. Crouched in the photo timeline exhibit, the one Ma thought was hilarious, even though her family was there too.
Mainly because of that.
I bet Skylar has no idea she’s staring death in the eye.
On the outside, it looks like the town just thinned out.
People dying of old age or leaving for someplace better, that’s the natural order of things.
Anywhere but here.
When my family got tired of raising livestock for leather and switched to people instead, there was nothing natural about the deaths in this town. There was intent. There was survival.
Our survival.
But as I watch over Skylar, they don’t concern me.
My mouth is hungry for something dark and depraved.
Teeth, tongue, lips. My hands, I’d eat her up with them.
I’m still a virgin, same as I was a week ago. Doesn’t matter. My body’s been waiting for her all along, gearing itself for this moment, for her.
Later tonight. When she’ll be alone with no one to protect her. No one to run to.
Only then will I make her mine in the most primal sense.
But since Easton and Bronwyn aren’t my family’s captives yet, I can’t take Skylar. All that’s left to do is give her that charm.
My lungs burn. My cock is so hard it might tear through my jeans.
Because of Skylar. She’s standing there, tilting her head at the photos.
Her skin. Christ. Especially where it stretches over her slender neck. A neck I already have plans for. I’d wrap my fingers around it—tight, tighter, tightest.
The thought of hearing her scream my name… Fuck.
I’m strung tight, biting down on my lip just to smother the sound of my ragged breaths.
Each muscle in my body strains as I lose my goddamn mind.
Skylar isn’t calm, either. She scratches her head as she crouches, examining the last one as if it holds the answers to life.
If she only looked up, she’d see me reflected in the glass.
A masked man towering over her. My cock bulges in my jeans. My hands clench at my sides.
I’ve never been in this much pain in my life.
I’m itching to grab her by the hair she’s twisted on the top of her head. Fuck and claim her.
Not yet. Not here.
I’m silent for another heartbeat. Take another step closer. Then—
A gasp. From Skylar.
So soft, so quiet that I hardly hear it. But I do.
Her body goes absolutely still, even more so than before. Her nails drag over her knees.
This has nothing to do with the picture in front of her.
And everything to do with me.
My senses tell me so. They’ve sharpened over the years as I’ve hunted down the living-hides who’ve tried to escape.
But they’re in the past. She’s my present, my future.
This trouble.
My plans had been solid before I saw her—wait for the pills to arrive and get out of here.
No more.
I’m not sure what to do from here on out, other than take her.
When the lightest breeze whips around me, a different scent reaches my nose. Through my mask. Through the bleach odor and what’s left of Ma’s baking.
Skylar. She doesn’t smell of oranges like I thought she would.
Her fragrance is much better. It has my cock jerking from how sweet and seductive it is.
Come to think of it, it’s too seductive.
Wait, maybe…
Is she…
Does it mean she wants me?
I’ll figure it out soon enough, with or without her permission.
If she doesn’t let me touch her, I’ll fuck the defiance out of her. I’ll figure out how; I have no doubt about it.
I’ll learn to make her cry for me. Beg for me.
And…Jesus. Her scent grows more potent the longer I stand here. More tempting.
I’d stick around to sniff her all night, except time’s running out.
Her group sounded like they were about to try to leave.
I take a step closer. Two.
As if sensing that too, Skylar shivers. Then I hear her. “Hello?”
The softest sound.
I flip my hand and toss the charm on the floor beside her.
My nostrils flare at the sound of another one of her innocent gasps. My chest is on fucking fire when—without looking back or at my reflection—she snatches the gift in her small palm.
My gift. My trouble. Mine.