Kill Switch (Devil's Night, #3)

by Penelope Douglas

I turned it more, but we knew it was a lost cause. I lost the wheel as the car skidded and spun out, and my body coiled up on reflex to protect itself. His arms went around me, covering my head, and I screamed as the car tipped onto one side, balancing for a moment and threatening to flip over, but then fell back onto all four tires again. The car stilled, the engine died, and I stayed like that, cradled in his lap, taking a mental inventory of my body. Other than banging my knee on the steering wheel when I brought it up, and an ache in my shoulder from hitting the car door, I was fine. I popped my head up, bringing my hands to his face. “Did I kill you?” I asked. But he didn’t laugh or say anything for a moment. Just breathed. “My heart…” he said. “Shit.” I remembered what he said last week at my house. Do you know what I have to do to get it to beat like that? “I scared you.” “Not an emotion I’m used to being on the receiving end of,” he mused. And then his fingers found the pulse on my neck and pressed down. I followed suit, placing my three fingers on his neck, on the side of his throat, and finding his pulse, as well. We sat there for a moment, each of us with one hand on our own neck and another on the other person’s. It was fast like mine, and I liked that I did that to him.