Haunting-Adeline

consumed an ounce of it.
“Thank you so much for having me,” I say graciously. Mark cups my hand
in both of his, and a cold feeling embeds beneath my flesh, digging deep
like a parasite. His hands are sweaty, but all I can feel is ice.
This man… he’s evil. It feels like touching a corpse.
I slide my hand from his, resis ng the urge to wipe it against my dress.
I wouldn’t want to ruin such a pre y dress anyway.
Just as I’m walking out, Mark calls out, “I’ll be seeing you, Adeline.”
The second the door closes, Zade growls beneath his breath, “You’ll be
dead before that will ever happen.”
I never thought I’d condone murder, but with Mark… maybe I can
overlook it just this once.
Another week passes, and Zade con nues to haunt my house. My
dreams. My goddamn nightmares. And in this moment, with Zade’s hand
firmly wrapped around the column of my throat, squeezing un l my vision
blackens, it feels less like a nightmare and more like Hell.
For the tenth me, I freeze and can’t seem to coerce my limbs to move.
Heat lashes at my insides, and the raw look in his eyes—the unrelen ng
pleasure he takes out of draining the life from me—it does nothing but
stoke the single flame burning in my core.
He lets go with a click of his tongue and a sidelong look. As if he knows
precisely how twisted up my organs are.
Fuck him.
I’m swea ng profusely and becoming increasingly irritated beyond
belief. He keeps calling me li le mouse, but mice don’t look like drowned
sewer rats last me I checked.
“You’re ten mes larger than me, you expect me to break a chokehold?”
I snap, more so out of embarrassment for my con nued failure.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Zade says pa ently, a ny smirk li ing his lips.
I’m going to punch him.
“I’ve tried several mes,” I point out. “And failed.”