Chapter 5 #3
Alice holds my stare through the mask, breathing hard, rain sliding down her cheeks and dripping from her lashes.
Her jacket has fallen open from the chase, one side slipping off her shoulder, her shirt wet and stretched against her, pulled low enough to show the soft curve of skin beneath all that black.
She catches me looking and lifts her chin. “Eyes are up here, asshole.”
“I know where your eyes are.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
My mouth curves behind the mask. “I’m looking at what you’re pretending you didn’t mean to show me.”
Her glare sharpens, but her fingers tighten in my hoodie instead of pushing me away. That’s the thing about Alice. Her mouth lies first. Her hands take longer to catch up.
I keep her against the tree with one hand and slide the other into my pocket.
Her eyes drop immediately.
Smart girl.
The karambit comes out smooth and quiet, curved black metal catching what little light the rain leaves behind. Alice goes still the second she sees it.
The fear hits her clean.
I see it in the way her eyes lock on the blade, in the way her fingers tighten in my hoodie, in the sharp little pause between one breath and the next, but she doesn’t say a word.
Her mouth lies too fast anyway.
I keep her pinned with one hand at her waist and let the karambit sit between us for a second, curved and black and wet with rain. Alice watches it like she’s trying to decide whether she wants to slap it out of my hand or lean closer just to prove she isn’t scared.
Her pretty little body already decided for her.
That’s what pisses her off.
I drag the blade lightly across the open edge of her jacket first, slow enough for her to stop me if she wants to. She doesn’t. Her hands stay fisted in my hoodie, her chest rising faster as the metal slips lower, cold against the rain-soaked fabric hanging off her shoulder.
“Why so quiet, ghost girl?" I murmur.
Her jaw clenches.
Fuck me thats pretty.
The tip kisses bare skin just above the low edge of her shirt, and a tiny line opens.
Nothing really deep, but Alice gasps, and the sound punches straight through me.
My grip tightens at her waist as a thin bead of red slips down the rain-coated curve of her breast. For a second, I just stare at it. At her, and the way she’s looking at me like she hates me for knowing exactly what this does to her.
Fucking Christ.
I lift the mask, and rain hits my lips, cold and sharp, but I barely feel it. My eyes stay on hers as I lower my head, flatten my tongue, and drag it slowly over the wet, bloody line.
Alice makes this soft little sound.
Not loud enough for anyone else to hear.
A sound that's just mine.
My eyes snap up to hers, and whatever control I had left goes mean and wild behind them.
She sees it and knows.
For one second, neither of us moves.
Rain in the trees. Mud under our boots. Her blood on my tongue. Her hands twisted in my hoodie like she forgot she was supposed to push me away.
Then she remembers and she shoves me hard. I let her go because I want to watch her choose it.
She stumbles back, breath rough, one hand flying to the tiny cut while her eyes stay locked on mine.
“You are so fucked up,” she whispers.
I look at her for a second, letting that sit between us with the rain, then lift the karambit where she can see it. Her blood is still on the curved edge, watered down to a thin red streak that clings to the metal anyway.
Alice’s eyes drop to it, and when they come back to mine, her breathing isn’t as steady as she wants it to be.
Fuck if that doesn’t make my cock twitch.
I drag my tongue along the blade, slow and deliberate, cleaning the rain and blood from the edge while she watches every inch of it. Her lips part again, but nothing comes out this time, and fuck if that doesn’t make the whole thing worth it.
The knife folds shut with a quiet click.
I tuck it back into my pocket, pull the mask down over my face, and step toward her just enough to make her back up.
“Run, then,” I say, smiling behind the teeth. “That’s what you wanted, right? Fear with a head start.”
Her throat moves.
Then she turns and runs.
And this time, when I go after her, I already know how the fuck it ends.
I let her have the first few seconds.
Not because she needs them, but because I want to watch her take them anyway.
Alice tears down the path with one hand pressed to her chest, boots slipping in the mud, camera bag bouncing hard against her hip. She moves fast for someone pretending this isn’t exactly where she wanted the night to go.
I follow at a walk at first. Just to be cruel.
“Come on, ghost girl,” I call after her, rain hitting the mask and running down the jagged teeth. “You can do better than that.”
She looks back over her shoulder.
Big mistake.
Her eyes catch on the mask, then on the space between us, and something flashes across her face that makes my chest go tight in the ugliest fucking way.
Fear, yeah. But not only fear.
There’s excitement there too. Hot, stupid and impossible to hide. The kind that says her body knows this game before her mouth can ruin it with excuses.
Yep.
She’s going to be a problem.
Alice cuts off the path and into the trees, like getting farther from the lights is somehow going to save her from me. Branches whip at her coat. Mud grabs at her boots. She nearly slips once, catches herself on a trunk, then keeps going without looking back and I pick up my pace.
“You know what’s funny?” I say, voice carrying through the rain. “You’re still making the worst possible choices.”
“Fuck off,” she throws back, breathless.
I laugh, because even running from me, she still has to use that mouth. “Keep running your mouth and I might.”
She moves faster, and so do I.
The woods get darker the farther she goes, campus lights thinning behind us until they’re just pale blurs through the rain.
She should turn left toward the main road or cut back toward the student center.
She should scream loud enough for someone useless to come running with a flashlight and a hero complex, but she doesn’t.
She keeps going deeper.
Like she wants to find out exactly how bad this can get.
My tongue drags over my teeth, and I can still taste her there. Rain. Blood. Her fucking fear, sharp and sweet enough to make my grip flex at my sides.
“You know,” I call, closing the distance now, “I can still taste you.”
Alice stumbles for half a step.
Got you.
Her head turns just enough for me to see the side of her face, the wet hair stuck to her cheek, the way her mouth parts before she forces it shut.
“That scare you?” I ask. “Or did you like that part too?”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
She swears under her breath and pushes harder through the trees, but she’s tired now.
I hear it in the way her breathing breaks, see it in the way her steps get messier, less careful.
Her hand drops from her chest, fingers brushing branches aside, and the tiny cut I put there flashes in my head again.
Her gasp.
That soft little sound.
Mine.
Fuck I want another one.
I want to know how many different ways I can pull noise out of her before she stops acting like she doesn’t want me to.
The thought hits hard enough that I stop playing around and run.
Alice hears the change immediately. Her whole body reacts, panic and excitement snapping through her at once, and she looks back right as I close the last few feet between us.
“Jagger—”
I catch her near the stone wall where the cemetery ends and the woods get too thick for the campus lights to reach properly.
She swings at me this time, and misses. My mouth curves as I catch her wrist, turn her, and press her back against the wall. Her camera bag hits the stone with a dull thud, her breath leaves in a sharp rush, and mine follows rougher than I want it to.
The mask slips from my hand and drops into the mud near our boots.
Alice glares up at me, soaked and pissed, chest rising fast under her open jacket. “You’re fucked up, Jagger. Normal people don’t enjoy this shit.”
“Yeah, well I never claimed to be normal.” I pin her wrist beside her head and lean in close. “Normal is over rated. Besides, at least I’m not pretending.”
Her eyes narrow. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” My gaze drops to her mouth, then comes back to her eyes. “You hate that it’s me.”
Her jaw tightens as I settle my free hand at her waist, keeping her against the stone, close enough that I can feel the way she breathes when I touch her. “It’s okay, Alice.”
Her expression flickers. “What is?”
My mouth curves. “Wanting it.”
“Don’t.”
“Wanting the chase.” My thumb drags once over her hip. “The fear. Wanting me to catch you.”
Her breath catches, and she looks furious about it which only makes my cock throb more.
“You don’t know what I want,” she says.
“I know enough.” I lean closer, voice lower now, rougher. “I know you’re standing here with your hands on me, looking at my mouth like you’re still deciding whether to bite it or kiss it.”
Her mouth twitches before she kills it, and fuck, I like that too much.
I press closer, just enough to make the stone bite into the bag at her back. “You can call me insane. You can shove me. You can run again if that makes you feel better.” My gaze drops to her lips. “But don’t stand here acting like wanting me is the worst thing you’ve done tonight.”
Her eyes search mine, sharp and angry and way too honest.
“It might be,” she whispers.
My smile goes slow.
“Then make it worth it.”
For a second, Alice just stares at me like she hates me.
Then her hand fists in my hoodie and she pulls me in.
The kiss isn’t soft. It’s teeth and rain and anger, her mouth opening under mine like she’s still trying to win something even while she gives in.
Good. I don’t want sweet from Alice. I want this.
Her pissed off and fucking soaked. Her body pressed between me and the stone like she finally stopped pretending she didn’t come out here to find out what would happen.