Page 9 of The Dead Don’t Scream

His other hand slides into my hair and closes gently around the roots. My smile vanishes. He draws my head back against his shoulder. The skull mask fills my vision.

“You haven’t met him yet.”

He releases me. I stumble forward and spin around, expecting him to grab me again. Rhys remains where I left him. Still. Patient. Certain I won’t escape.

“Run.”

I stare at him.

“What?”

“I want to catch you properly.”

“And if I don’t?”

His head tilts.

“Then I’ll assume you want me to fuck you here.”

A violent thrill races through me. I back away. One step. Two. Rhys reaches beneath his coat. I turn and run.

RHYS

Sloane is fast. Not fast enough, but I appreciate the effort. Her white dress flashes between the rows as she follows the route I selected. Dante could intercept her twice before she reaches the equipment shed.

Callum could appear anywhere. Neither does. This capture belongs to me. I give Sloane enough distance to believe she might escape, then close the gap. Her breathing changes when she hears me coming. She looks over her shoulder.

A mistake. Her eyes widen behind her black lace mask as I reach for her. She darts left. My fingers catch the back of her dress, but the fabric slips from my grasp. Her surprised laughter disappears into the maze. The sound strikes harder than it should. I expected desire. I expected fear.

I didn’t expect joy. Sloane doesn’t run because she has something to prove. She runs because she has finally found somewhere she doesn’t need to hide. That makes her dangerously beautiful. It also makes me want to give her everything she requested.

I follow her around the next corner. She reaches the equipment shed and pulls the handle. Locked. Sloane turns as I step through the fog.

“No fair.”

I approach slowly.

“You entered our maze.”

“You locked the door.”

“You expected honesty from three masked men hunting you through a cornfield?”

“I expected creativity.”

“You bite, lie, and insult me.”

Her back meets the door.

“You sound offended.”

“I’m deciding how to correct your behavior.”

Her thighs press together. I can smell her arousal and the shame burning on her pretty face. The movement is small. I see it anyway. I stop one step away.

“Last opportunity to run.”

Her gaze drops to my gloved hands.