Haunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse, #1)

by H.D. Carlton

Sometimes I hear footsteps at night. They could be from the ghosts of the workers who died in the tragic fire eighty years ago, or they could be from the shadow that stands outside my house. Watching me. Always watching me.

ometimes I have very dark thoughts about my mother—thoughts no sane daughter should ever have. Sometimes, I’m not always sane.

If it’s not one thing, it’s the other. She always manages to find something to complain about.

I travel enough with book tours and conferences; settling down in a house won’t change that. I know what the fuck I want, and I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about it.

enough with book tours and conferences; settling down in a house won’t change that. I know what the fuck I want, and I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about it.

I love storms—I just don’t like to be in them. I’d prefer to cuddle up under the blankets with a mug of tea and a book while listening to the rain fall.

I think I need a bigger mouth. More alcohol would fit in it.

They all bore me. All I get is what are you wearing and wanna come over, winky face at one o’clock in the morning. I’m wearing the same sweatpants I’ve been wearing the past week, there’s a mysterious stain on my crotch, and no, I don’t want to fucking come over.

A bombshell with dark brown skin, pin-straight black hair, and a gold hoop in her nose. She’s probably an evil succubus or something.

I roll my eyes when he slurps at my neck again, groaning when he rolls his dick into the apex of my thighs.

he rears back, panting from all the solo French kissing he’s been doing with my throat. It’s like he was waiting for my neck to lick him back or something.

I sigh. What is that saying? If you want it done right, do it yourself? Well, in this case—if you don’t want to get caught and charged for murder, dispose of the body yourself.

But what I do know is that I just found the meaning of life sitting behind a table with an awkward smile on her face.

All I want to do is break her. Shatter her into pieces. And then arrange those pieces to fit against my own. I don’t care if they don’t fit—I’ll fucking make them.

I’ve just found myself a little mouse, and I won’t stop until I’ve trapped her.

They may have made that rose powerless by clipping its thorns, but I will gladly show them a rose is still fucking deadly when it’s shoved down their throat.

really need to stop drinking and work out more. I’ll make it a new year’s resolution. It’s pretty much a given that I’ll try for a week and give up, promising to try again next

The person could be in that hallway, lurking just out of sight. Or hiding in one of the bedrooms even, waiting for me to pass by.

Another surge of adrenaline rushes through my bloodstream.

I’m scared, but I’m also stupid.

However, I’m just as stubborn. And as already established—stupid, too.

The only silver lining is that I would never be so stupid to fall in love with him.

No—the girls in this warehouse are far tougher than he could ever hope to be. He's just a whiny bitch trapped in a man’s body.

But when you have a warehouse full of armed men, there’s no calling them back to your office one at a time like they’re being fired from their job.

My hunt isn’t over yet. I have to play with my little mouse now.

I roll my eyes. "Daya, it's hard to find a man these days that can even fuck right. You think I'm going to find a man that will kill in my honor, too? That's cute." "You never know, baby girl. Crazier things have happened."

And what if it evolves into more? What if I’m saying no to something beautiful? Those are a little girl’s hopes and dreams, but I can’t help thinking them anyways.

What he doesn’t know is that the minute I properly introduce myself to Adeline Reilly, she won’t be able to think of anyone else. I will devour her from the inside out, until every intake of breath will only stoke the inferno I've created inside her. Like oxygen feeding a fire, I will consume every inch of her sweet little body until she will think of nothing else but how to get me deeper inside of her.

He doesn’t know how to push women to the edge of pain and pleasure, balancing between the two and making them desperate for more.

UNKNOWN: You didn’t like my flowers?

“Yeah, we know, freak,” she teases. Despite the fact that it used to be my mother’s favorite slur, I don’t let it bother me anymore. Plenty of men have called me the same, followed up by desperate begging to fuck me again. Being a freak took on a whole new meaning a long time ago. I tend to enjoy the name now.

A man that wants to punish me.

And then his bloody hand is wrapping around the back of my neck and bringing my body flush with his once more.

“I want to devour you,” he whispers.

“Fine,” I whisper. “How long will you search for me before I win?” He smiles. “I’ll give you five minutes before your ass is bent over my knee.”

“I like you scared,” he whispers, sending shivers down my spine. “I like you begging and pleading. Crying out for God to save you.”

His fingers lightly trace over my cheekbone to my hair, tucking the loose strands behind my ear. “I like you trembling beneath my touch, uncontrollably.”

“I’m going to claim you,” he says, right before his teeth clamp down. My back arches involuntarily, repulsion and pleasure marrying in my nerves, sending misfires to my brain.

A sharp slap to my ass is his only response.

He leans over me again, his mouth kissing the last bruise he left on my shoulder. “Do you know what these mean?” he whispers, kissing another spot. I shudder beneath his touch, electricity sprouting from the point of contact and dancing across my skin. I don’t answer, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “They mean that I own you. Marked you as mine.”

This is so, so fucked up. Beyond fucked up. But when the gun pulls out and sinks back in again, a noise does slip through as a wave of pleasure rocks through me.

Not when my entire being is consumed in fire and ice, and the only thing I can see is heaven.

I think my asshole of a vagina might’ve even been jealous of the cigarette. Apparently, it has a thing for inanimate objects.

That woman’s voice alone can bring any man to their knees.

The moment I saw her sitting in that bookstore, working to hide her nerves and anxiety, there I was—a grown-ass man, falling in obsession at first sight.

When you make someone fall in love with the darkest parts of you, there’s nothing you can do that will scare them away. They will be yours forever because they already love all the fucked up bits and pieces of you.

Humans don’t need to decorate themselves in gory make-up and fake blood to be scary. It’s the insides of us—the darkness that lurks beneath the surface—that’s what’s truly fucking terrifying.

The only pussy I want wrapped around my cock for the rest of my life is hers.

“You have such pretty eyes,” I tell her. She snarls at me. “Spill, slut.” I close my eyes with a resigned sigh. “That man ate the soul out of my body, and I don’t think I’ve gotten it back yet.”

“Zade,” he whispers against my lips. “That’s the only name that will ever leave your lips from now on, especially when you’re making that little pussy feel good. And when I’m making that pussy feel good, then you can call me God.”