34. Presley #2
Then I look over his shoulder, and everything inside me stops.
Across the room stands a tall man wearing the mask.
My fingers tighten around Hades's shoulder.
He feels it immediately. “What?”
I can't answer.
The bone-white mask with black eyes and that horrible, distorted mouth stares back at me through the crowd.
Hades follows my gaze.
His entire body goes rigid. “Motherfucker.”
“Hades.” The word barely leaves me.
Masked Man doesn't move.
Neither do I.
Three days ago, seeing him would have sent fear and something else racing through me. Something dark and embarrassing that I didn't want to examine too closely.
Tonight? I'm angry.
Actually, I'm fucking pissed.
Because he scared me. Watched me. Followed me. Chased me. Then disappeared.
Only to show up here on Halloween. Like this is some fucking game we're still playing.
Except I'm not playing anymore.
I don't need him. I have Hades.
Hades moves slightly in front of me. “Stay here.”
My hand catches his arm. “No.”
His gaze snaps to mine.
“You chased him last time.”
“And lost him.”
“Exactly.”
His jaw tightens. “Presley—”
“No. I'm not standing here while you chase some psycho into the dark again.”
Something flickers across his face, but it’s gone too quickly for me to understand.
I look back across the ballroom. Masked Man is moving away from us. He slips between two groups of people, then disappears through a doorway.
My heart pounds.
Hades doesn't move. He's watching the doorway, his body tense. Ready.
“Hades?”
His head turns to me.
Exhaling a deep breath, his hand slides around mine. “Do you want to leave?”
I think about it, then shake my head. “No.”
“You sure?”
“I'm not letting him ruin Halloween.”
A slow smile touches Hades's mouth. “That's my girl.”
My stomach flips.
And just like that, the Masked Man becomes background noise.
Or at least that's what I tell myself.
I don't see him again.
I've looked.
I hate admitting that, even to myself, but I have.
Not because I want him back. Because I want to know where he is.
There's a difference.
Hades stays close and we continue dancing.
Eventually, my shoulders relax.
Wilder appears again about twenty minutes later, carrying three drinks. His costume hasn't improved.
I look him up and down. “What exactly are you supposed to be?”
He hands Hades a whiskey. “Emotionally unavailable.”
I burst out laughing.
Hades takes the drink. “That's not a costume.”
“Neither is whatever the fuck you two have going on.”
I accept the cider Wilder offers me. “You know who we are.”
“Yes.” Wilder looks at Hades. “But I still can’t believe you got him to dress as Gomez.”
“Why not?”
Wilder looks at me. “He looks more like a serial killer than—ow!” He rubs his arm where Hades punched him.
I look between them. “You two are weird.”
“You have no idea,” Wilder says.
Hades gives him a look. Wilder takes a long drink. Something about the exchange makes me smile.
“I'm beginning to understand why Hades said you're a pain in his ass.”
“He talks about me?”
“Unfortunately,” Hades says.
I grin. “He loves you.”
Hades nearly chokes on his whiskey.
Wilder's eyebrows shoot up.
I laugh. “Oh, come on. He does.”
“I didn't say that,” Hades mutters.
“You didn't have to.”
Wilder looks strangely pleased, but covers it with a smirk.
“Careful, little bookworm. You're going to ruin his reputation.”
Everything stops.
The music. The laughter. The people moving around us.
All of it.
My fingers tighten around my glass.
Hades goes completely still beside me.
I stare at Wilder, feeling the color drain from my face. “What did you call me?”
Wilder's smile falters, then he quickly says, “Bookworm.”
“No.”
I turn my head and study Hades, who is wearing a blank expression.
Then I turn back to Wilder. “You said little bookworm.”
Wilder shrugs. “You work in a bookstore.”
My heart gives one hard, painful beat.
It's a perfectly reasonable explanation. Except Masked Man called me that.
But so did Hades.
And now Wilder—
I stare at him.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Not exactly Hades's size, but close enough.
My skin goes cold.
“Were you at the festival the other night?”
Wilder's eyes flick toward Hades before locking with mine again.
Before he answers, Hades interrupts, “Presley.”
I put my drink down on the nearest table. “I need some air.”
“Presley.”
I walk briskly away.
I don’t run. Because if I do, he'll follow.
And suddenly that thought scares me.
Cold air hits my face the second I step outside.
I suck in a breath, then another.
Music pulses faintly through the walls behind me. Fog drifts across Greycourt's lawn. Pumpkins flicker along the walkway.
But my mind won't stop.
Little bookworm.
Good girl.
The familiar scent of cedar, woodsmoke, and soap.
The package with the special edition and Penny's sweater.
Masked Man knew where I lived.
Hades knew what book I'd recommended.
I keep walking.
No. My stomach twists. Masked Man asked me about Hades.
Who is he? What is he to you?
He made me answer.
He made me say I wanted Hades.
My steps falter.
Masked Man standing across the square at the festival. Hades was beside me.
Then he chased him before returning alone.
I lost him.
I picture Wilder's eyes flicking toward Hades thirty seconds ago.
My stomach drops.
Footsteps sound behind me.
I stop. I don't have to turn around to know who it is.
“Presley.”
I slowly turn.
Hades stands several feet away, dressed as Gomez.
I stare at the man I woke up beside this morning.
The man who chased me through the woods.
The man—
Oh God.
My chest hurts.
“Who was wearing the mask tonight?”
His expression doesn't change.
He doesn't answer.
“Hades.”
“Presley—”
“No.” My voice cracks. I hate it.
I swallow and try again. “That's not what I asked.”
His jaw tightens.
My heart begins pounding. “Who was wearing it tonight?”
Silence.
“Wilder?”
Something changes in his eyes.
That's all I need.
A short, disbelieving laugh comes out of me.
“Oh my God.”
“Presley.”
“He was wearing it at the festival, wasn’t he?”
His face barely changes, but it’s enough for me. Because I've learned Hades well enough to know his expressions. His silences. The way his jaw moves when he's holding something back.
And suddenly I know. “You chased him.”
“Presley—”
“You fucking chased your own brother.”
He takes a step toward me.
I step back, feeling sick.
Hades stops immediately.
My stomach drops.
Hades always has an answer. Always.
But he doesn’t now.
I stare at the man I fell in love with. The man who made me feel safe.
“Who was wearing the mask the first time I saw him?”
Hades says nothing.
My eyes burn.
I shake my head. No.
“Wilder never touched you.”
I freeze.
“What?”
“He wore the mask at the festival and tonight. That's it. Everything else was me.”
My hand clamps over my mouth. The betrayal twists like a knife in my gut.
I feel like I’m in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
“Don’t follow me.”
I run back inside, searching for Gracie.
I bump into Callie instead.
“What’s wrong?”
Tears burn my eyes. “Can you give me a ride home?”
“Of course.” She grabs my hand. “I know a shortcut out of here.”
She cuts through the crowd with enough determination that people wisely get the hell out of her way.
Although I barely know her, I like her even more.
Once we are outside in the cold, foggy night, Callie reaches into the bust of her catsuit and hands me a tissue.
I don’t ask questions. I just take it and dab at my eyes.
Once we’re in her expensive SUV, she looks over at me as she starts the engine.
“If you want me to run him over, just say the word.”
“Please don’t. I’m angry, but not that mad.”
She nods. “Have it your way. My offer stands.”
She manages to squeeze between the endless line of cars, making me forget my pain as I fear for my life.
By the time she turns onto the main road, I’ve aged five years.
I give her directions, then stare out the window as she drives, praying I don’t die. Callie is definitely a speed demon.
When she pulls in front of my house, I’m so relieved I nearly cry.
She pats my arm before I move. “Cry if you must. Then put on a sexy outfit, some makeup, and show the bastard what he’s missing.”
Despite how miserable I feel, I give her a tiny smile.
“Thanks, Callie.”