Page 49 of The Dead Don’t Scream

“And if Callum decides he doesn’t want to share?”

Sloane glances at him.

“Then Callum can watch.”

Dante laughs. The sound is wicked and delighted. Beneath the burlap mask, Callum’s eyes turn murderous. Sloane smiles at him.

“You invited me for three men, Scarecrow. You don’t get jealous now.”

“I was jealous before you arrived.”

“Then suffer.”

Dante places a hand over his heart.

“I think I’m in love.”

Callum looks ready to bury him beneath the chapel. I grip Sloane’s chin and turn her back toward me.

“Last chance. Once we begin, we stop only for a color, signal, or medical concern.”

“I understand.”

“You may change your mind at any time.”

“I know.”

“No one will be disappointed.”

“That part sounds like a lie.”

Dante moves closer.

“I’ll be devastated. I’ll probably write terrible poetry.”

Sloane laughs. The tension in her shoulders loosens. That is Dante’s gift. He turns fear into anticipation before it can become real. I stroke my thumb across Sloane’s lower lip.

“Choose who touches you first.”

Her eyes darken.

“You.”

Behind her, Callum’s hand curls into a fist.

I almost smile.

“Why?”

“Because you made me run.”

Sloane reaches for my mask. I catch her wrist before her fingers touch its bone-white edge.

“Not yet.”

“You’ve all seen me.”

“Seeing isn’t the same as knowing.”