Chapter Nineteen #2
My grip loosens.
She sucks in breath, chest heaving. Eyes shiny. “Wake up, Kade. Damn it. I’m right here. Come back.”
She sounds like her. Like home.
If this is a lie …
Let it be the last one.
The knife hits the ground. My palms lock around her hips. I pull her in.
She peels the mask off me.
Everything sways. Don’t know if it’s the drug. Or the heat rolling off her.
‘Mmm,’ Vanessa purrs from somewhere beyond the trees. ‘You feel that, baby? That ache? She wants it bad. Go on. Make her smile pretty like me.’
I focus on Payton.
Her eyes searching mine. Her palm on my cheek.
“You’re here,” she murmurs.
Her skin bubbles. Lips twisted too wide.
‘Face it, sugar. You touch it, you break it. That’s what you do. No wonder you’re always left holdin’ the pieces.’
I blink.
‘You gonna kill me … or fuck me?’
Payton this time.
Real or not, my blood sings. My body answers.
I back her into the tree. Crush my mouth to hers. My tongue slides over hers.
Behind my eyelids, the bitch’s still there. Grinning. Bleeding. Watching.
But Payton’s in my arms. And this—this is real.
I slip my hand under her hoodie, past the tank. Straight to warm, smooth skin. Her ribs.
Higher.
The swell of her breast. Soft, full … perfect.
She arches into me. “Kade …”
I yank at her top until it gives way. Wrench her bra aside and pop her breast free.
That breathy cry when my mouth closes around her nipple. I suck, hard. Copper spills over my tongue. My cock swells.
My hand’s up her skirt. Two fingers in her hot, wet cunt.
Vanessa jeers. The forest could be burning. Stacked with bodies. Doesn’t matter.
Payton’s here. Soaked and ready. She’s everything I fucking need.
I pull away. Bring my fingers to my mouth. Musk and salt. Sharp as blood.
Fuck. I can almost taste the lie—the rot beneath her skin. This isn’t Payton.
Vanessa’s laughter curls around us. ‘Damn, baby. You tryna fuck a ghost instead o’ facin’ the truth? Mm. Mind if I join in? I like it rough—and dead don’t say no.’
The knife glints in the dirt.
I grab it. Press the hilt into Not-Payton’s palm.
She flinches.
“Do it,” I rasp, guiding the blade to my shoulder. “Right here.”
Her eyes widen. “No! What—”
I surge forward, driving us both into the tree. The knife sinks in—a white-hot punch below my collarbone.
Blood wells hot, streaming over my chest.
“Fuck,” she breathes. “No, no, no …”
“That’s right, little fox.” My forehead to hers. Our noses brushing. “Wanna play with monsters? Be the monster. But you don’t get to”—my hand covers hers, shoving the blade deeper—“wear. Her. Face.”
“It’s me, Kade. God, why’d you …”
The world snaps into focus. Vanilla and salt buried under the rot.
The knife twists—her doing or mine, who fucking knows—and the pain cleaves me in half.
“No,” Payton sobs, wrenching the knife free.
Blood arcs between us.
I slump against the tree, pressing a hand to my shoulder. The wound’s clean. Straight through. I’ll live.
For now.
“Are you insane?”
I grin, tasting copper. “Needed my medicine.”
She places both hands over my wound. Presses harder. Blood seeps between her fingers.
“Should’ve taken you to dinner instead.”
“Crazy bastard,” she whispers.
I catch her wrist. “Did I hurt you?”
Her laugh is half-sob. “You stabbed yourself.”
“Not what I asked.”
“I’m fine.”
Lie.
She’s trembling. Pulse wild.
She yanks at her tank top.
Now her stomach’s bare. And the rest of her—
“Hold this,” she pants, jamming the wadded cotton into my shoulder.
I grab her face instead. “Say it again.”
“What?”
“My name.”
She swallows. “Kade Benjamin Mercer.”
Like benediction. The only prayer I’ve ever needed.
I kiss her.
Her fingers sink into my hair.
She pulls away. Scowls. “You’re a fucking mess.”
“Yours, though.”
She swats my chest. “Idiot. You’re bleeding.”
“Worth it.”
Her eyes flash—green again, just her. “Next time? Try talking to me instead of impaling yourself.”
Her hands return to the wound, gentler now, her touch a brand and a balm. “We have to go.”
“Yeah.”
She doesn’t move. I don’t let go.
Here, it’s just the unholy truth that I’d burn the world down to keep this.
“Kade …” Her hand bears down on the wound.
Good. Pain keeps me present.
“I’m so sorry I thought it was you. H-he’s got Kristy. The real killer—”
“Steve.”
“How … how’d you know?”
I smear the blood on her cheek. “Stephen D. Maddox. Got fired last year for stealing footage.”
A full-body shiver wracks her. “He told us his name was Derek. Derek Vahn.”
“Irrelevant. The ‘D’ stands for dead.”
Her breath stutters at some memory playing out. “Then some guy walked in, called him Steve, and—” She swallows. “Derek slit his throat. Like he did to Jessica. There was another body … Nate. He killed them both and—” Her watch buzzes. Her eyes snap to mine. “We have to go back. Now.”
She lunges for the trail. I snag her wrist, spin her into me.
“It’s a trap.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.” My grip tightens. “He wants you running in blind. Wants you begging.”
“I promised Kristy.” Her free hand shoves at my chest. “For fuck’s sake, I already lost Lana. I’m not losing her.”
“We need a plan.”
“There’s no time!” She runs.
Knock her out.
But fuck. Try to stop her and she’ll hate me forever.
I tuck the Halloween Special knife into my waistband. Then I catch up, reeling her in by the hood. The mask’s already in my other hand.
“Try that again,” I growl, “and I’ll tie you to me.”
Her breath comes ragged. “You wouldn’t.”
I yank the mask on.