Phantom (Cat and Mouse, #0)

by H.D. Carlton

There is something wrong with him. Clearly there is something wrong with me, too.

I’m not only riveted by her. I’m possessed by a need to have her.

Her husband has unintentionally dragged her into a world where she doesn’t belong. Yet it is I who will never let her leave.

She’s a beauty among the ashes that seem to collect in this damned home.

I’m very afraid of this strange man. But my God, am I also intrigued.

I’m a bad man, but I won’t be her monster. No. I want to be her savior.

Guess the milkman doesn’t like Parsons Manor.

The man stares down at me with piercing pale-blue eyes nestled beneath thick, dark brows—a contrast to his olive skin. Though something is off with the left one. Instead of a black pupil, it’s completely blue, giving his eye an almost translucent effect.

If Genevieve is my end, then I open the door to death with no hesitation.

Some of the patrons are merely spooked, and some of them are dead.

When he kissed me, I flew into the stars. I don’t think I’ve come back down yet.

no. Then, one day, he came to her with a single rose in his hands, the thorns plucked from the stem.

Rather than being consumed by my red lips, it’s the red poker chips that captivate him.

There isn’t a life where I wouldn’t be your phantom, or a death where I wouldn’t be your reaper.”

They remind me of yin and yang, and it’s a riveting sight to behold.

He stares at me as if I’m a measly mouse caught beneath his paw and he hasn’t eaten in ages.

And anyone who inflicts pain on mia rosa will die. Simple as that.

I’m doing something incredibly stupid, his words silent but clear: I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t.

our kiss only deepens, just as I fall deeper into the cosmos.

“Whatever gave you the impression that I was a scared little mouse?” He clicks his tongue as if chiding me. “I would guess the moment I make you squeal like one.”

How could Ronaldo rule hell if he makes me see heaven?

“But unlike the mouse you claim me to be, I don’t run.”

“You’re mine, and you will only pray to me.”

Lately, I’ve been favoring roses.

I want her to see me for the predator that I am. And I want her to feel like every bit of the prey that she is.

Now, I don’t know if I will ever look at bananas the same.

There’s a deep chill scattering down my spine like tiny little mouse feet, causing me to shudder.

That you are going to burn in hell. Possibly. My mother always claimed so. Maybe all this time, she was actually onto something. If that’s the case, I suppose I’ll see her there.

“I am destined to love you from the shadows, mia rosa,” he says quietly. “I will never be more than your phantom.”

“Killing offers you relief. But you must decide if ending a life is better than experiencing your own, my friend.”

One menacing step from him is all it takes for me to squeal, set my glass down on the coffee table, and run.