Chapter 12
TWELVE
MAX
“Aah!” The Masked Man cried out, lurching away from the house. His grip on the trellis slipped, and he fell backwards, landing with an “oof” in the flower bed below.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” I whisper-shouted.
He only groaned in answer and rolled onto his side.
Shit, shit, shit!
I quickly stepped back into the room, not knowing what to do. Was he injured? The fall wasn’t far, but landing would hurt like hell. I couldn’t just leave him there, could I? He might have broken bones or internal bleeding.
Fuck, what if he died out there in the yard? Would I go to prison?
Even worse, what if Enzo or Mr. Marino heard something and found him? Would he call the police and report a masked intruder in the bushes?
Of course he would, you fucking moron. That’s what normal people do!
I had to go get him.
There wasn’t time to dismantle the straps holding the stupid mask to my face, so I just kept it on and hustled outside as fast as possible.
At the last second, I grabbed the serial killer knife—because we weren’t quite to unarmed greetings just yet—and turned the security camera mounted over my door away so it wouldn’t catch us.
So far, no one came running from the main house, and I didn’t see any kind of commotion through the windows. Maybe they hadn’t heard anything after all.
Rounding the house, I was relieved the Masked Man had at least risen to his knees.
“Are you okay?” I asked again, keeping my voice lowered.
“Fine,” he wheezed. “Knocked the air out of me, that’s all.”
A dog barked in the distance. “C’mon,” I said, grabbing him by the arm to pull him up. “Inside, before someone sees you.”
He stumbled up and followed me to the stairs. “You gonna use that on me?” he asked, gesturing to the knife.
I rolled my eyes. “Go on. Up,” I said, ushering him forward when he halted.
“I gathered that,” he snapped back. I didn’t appreciate his tone. “Let me catch my breath.”
Ugh. “You’re acting like you fell out of a window or something.”
He coughed a surprised laugh, darting a questioning glance my way before heading upstairs.
“What?” I asked once the door was safely closed behind me.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just surprised you’re joking with me and not stabbing me. You’ve got the mask on and everything.”
“Who says I won’t? What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“The wall, remember? Plus you weren’t answering my texts.”
I opened my mouth to ask if he broke into the homes of everyone who took a few hours to respond, but just then a car door slammed, and footsteps clacked down the brick path, headed our way. I froze.
All levity gone, the Masked Man spun around, facing the door. “Who is that?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, just as they made it to the stairs. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
Before I could blink, the knife was out of my hand and back in his. “Get behind me,” he said, reaching back to shove me between him and the kitchen counter.
I should’ve been more focused on how easy it was for him to disarm me, and how the knife had clearly been an illusion of control this entire time, but all I could really think about was how warm his hand was on my waist, and how broad his shoulders were, blocking me from the door.
My omega purred. His protection was a heady thing.
The sound of keys jingling on a ring made my stomach drop. Was it Mr. Marino? Or Gwen? Surely, an intruder wouldn’t have a key? Who else—
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered. “The cleaner!” I’d completely forgotten I told her I’d be out today, and she could use her key to get in. “It’s just Donna. Don’t hurt her!”
Panicked and with nowhere else to go, I did the only thing I could think of and yanked open the pantry door, pulling the Masked Man in with me.
I could’ve just shoved him in there, but I was a terrible liar, and the poor woman would know right away something was wrong, report it to Mr. Marino, who’d report it to Gwen, and then I’d have more questions to answer for.
So. The pantry it was.
He came easily, though, crowding me inside the small space and silently closing the bi-fold louver door behind us just as the cleaner stepped into the room.
Jeffrey hissed.
“It’s okay, big kitty,” she said, voice high like she was approaching a velociraptor, rather than a cat. “We do this every week, remember? I’m just going to vacuum in here. Go on and hide.”
He hissed again, but she sighed in relief, followed by something that could’ve been a mumbled “Thank God,” so he must’ve done as she’d asked.
The Masked Man caught my eye and tilted his head as if to say, “See?”
I scowled back. With barely enough room for us both, his entire front pressed up against me while my back cut into the shelves lining the walls on three sides. My arms wrapped around his middle—because where else was I supposed to put them?—and his were bracketed above my head.
His quiet breaths warmed my neck. God, he smelled good.
I pressed closer, inhaling deeply, and he tensed, the leather of his gloves squeaking from his clenched fists.
His scent was slightly different from what I remembered.
It still held the same notes, but mellowed.
Less burnt, and more like a hot summer night watching a distant lightning storm.
Through the wooden slats, Donna’s silhouette crossed the pantry door, followed by the loud hum of a vacuum starting up.
“This is so weird,” I whispered. I felt a bit like the Final Girl in a slasher movie, complete with a strange red glow surrounding us. Except the killer hid in the closet with me, and I had no idea where that light was coming from.
I tipped my head back, looking for the source, and it began to flash in quick pulses.
“It’ll be a whole lot less weird when you take that fucking thing off,” the Masked Man whispered back, right into my ear. “Or she’s going to notice the railroad crossing in the closet.”
Oh, right. The red light mask. Where the hell was my brain today?
I reached one hand up, but my elbow bumped the jar of homemade vanilla extract. It wobbled on the shelf, and my heart plummeted.
In a fire, it was Jeffrey, and then my prized double-fold Madagascar vanilla. I’d die if anything happened to it. Thankfully it steadied, the sound masked by the vacuum, but it was still a close call.
“I can’t reach,” I whispered back. “I’m going to knock something over. You’ll have to do it.”
He sighed. Fumbling with the buttons on the strap, he more or less whacked me in the head trying to shut it off.
It flashed pink. Then blue. Green. Yellow.
A bit dizzy now, I bit my cheek to keep from snickering at the complete disbelief in the Masked Man’s eyes when he hit another button, and it began to strobe between all the settings.
Finally, it powered off. Gently, so as not to tangle the Velcro in my hair, he pulled the mask over my head and set it on the shelf above.
“Never in my goddamn life,” he breathed, but his eyes danced. “What is that thing?”
Unable to help it, a laugh bubbled up. “That’s rich coming from you.”
He stifled a laugh, too. “Mine doesn’t make me look like Rudolph in a snowstorm, nor does it scare people half to death.”
“You’re full of it, if you believe that second part.”
“Did you want to match with me, sweetheart?” He was barely visible in the gloom now that the red light mask was turned off, but I swore his eyes crinkled at the corners.
I scrunched my nose. “Ew, no. Obviously not. It’s red light therapy,” I answered, like I was an expert and hadn’t learned of its existence two hours ago. “It’s relaxing and anti-ageing.”
He snorted, louder than he should’ve. “I seriously doubt that.”
Ugh. He wasn’t allowed to make good points, so I shushed him instead. “Quiet!” I whisper-shouted. “Or she’ll hear you!”
“She won’t, with the vacuum going. Plus, she’s too busy looking over her shoulder for that murderous cat to worry about us.”
“Hey! My cat is not—”
The vacuum shut off, and he clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my words.
Wide-eyed, I sucked in a breath and was hit with a wall of powerful alpha pheromones. I swayed, wobbley-kneed and gaze hooded.
Woah.
“Easy,” he breathed into my ear, pressing his body against mine even more to keep me upright. You’re alright. You’re safe, his scent said, with an undercurrent of something dark and heady I didn’t have a name for yet.
Was this what the rabbit felt like when the snarling wolf stole it back to its den to keep it safe, instead of devouring it whole?
Although, with the way the Masked Man’s chest rumbled, I wasn’t so sure being devoured was off the table.
I gripped him tighter for balance and breathed in his calm, soothing presence. My fingers fisted in the material of his hoodie, and I melted, all the softness of my body pooling against the hard planes of his like we were always meant to fit together.
We were the solid and liquid states of the same matter. One match. One pair. Our chemistry so attuned, splitting us apart would have devastating consequences.
Mate, my omega whined. We belong with mate. Let’s stay right here forever. Make a nest and invite him in; he’ll claim us and give us pups, and we’ll be safe forever and ever and ever.
An objection to that fantasy flitted through my mind before it whipped away like a cloth on the wind, never to be seen again. Why wouldn’t I want to stay right here in his arms forever? He was safe and warm, and probably tasted good…
My mouth fell open, tongue darting out to flick his palm. Salty leather greeted me, and I moaned. It would’ve given us away, except the vacuum started up again in the other room.
“Shh,” he whispered, but it felt more like a caress than a scolding. There was a slight tremble in his voice, revealing I wasn’t the only one affected by our proximity. “Have to stay quiet, otherwise we’ll be discovered.”
I imagined someone finding me writhing and moaning against the Masked Man, maybe even on my knees, drooling and crying with his cock in my mouth. It should’ve repulsed me; it should’ve been enough to jar me out of my heat-muddled thoughts.
Instead, slick dripped down the back of my thigh.
Oops.