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“Maybe I was just jealous that someone else was touching the gorgeous girl I’d been coming out here to watch all summer.”
“You’re going to let me kiss you, pretty little bunny, and then I’ll let you out of my snare.”
“Which part? That I’m going to kiss you? That a murderer with more victims than years you’ve been alive wants to ravage that pretty little mouth before he sets you free? Or that I’ve been coming here every week for the entire summer, so I could imagine what I’d do to you if I had this exact opportunity? I was going to let you go, you know.”
Too stunned to speak, I lie there like an idiot without the sense to be a Final Girl in anyone’s movie.
“You’re thinking too hard, little bunny. Keep telling me how you can’t let the big bad serial killer touch you like this, or keep you on his lap.”
“Did you see him? His face? Is there anything you can tell us about the man that did this?” she asks kindly, a hand on my shoulder and her eyes intense. Staring up at her with wide eyes, I say without a touch of regret or dishonesty in my voice, “I never saw him; so I can’t tell you a thing. I’m sorry.”
“Do you want me to go?” “I don’t want to die.” He opens his eyes, rolling them wearily. “I’ve never even threatened to kill you, little bunny. You’re not going to die.”
There was a murder on the other side of the city today, you know. You should be more careful.” My heart pounds in my chest as I look at him, and I have to tip my head back slightly to see his face and the way his eyes glitter darkly. “Was it you?” I whisper, gripping my keys and coffee tighter when he starts to take them for me. His eyes flick up to mine, narrowing before he smiles. “I brought you dinner. Well, I brought us dinner. Wouldn’t you rather eat than ask me if I killed someone today?” “No.”
“And how the hell did you get into my apartment?” “I broke in again.” “Well, stop.”
“Because they aren’t you.” “But I’m nothing—” “You’re mine, aren’t you? That means you’re not ‘nothing.’”
I ease Morticia away from the door before closing it, only to hear her screaming protests as I lock the door. “Did you know she’s the first to welcome me to your apartment when I break in?” Wren asks conversationally as he leads me down the hallway. “I love your cats.”
“Me in her apartment, telling her I’ve decided to never let her out of my snare.”
“That’s like asking me if I’ll get bored of breathing. As long as I’m alive, I’ll always want you. Maybe I love you.” My heart flutters at the words. “Maybe it’s obsession. Hell, I kind of think it’s both. I’m fucking obsessed with you, Hazel. I will always be obsessed with you.”
“That’s sixty seconds too long. I’ll make it up to you, though. I’ll cut off his fingers and make you a necklace. Then I’ll remove his palms and make you a plate. “That’s fucked up.” “Then I’ll just have to settle for ripping out his heart and putting it on your coffee table for your new centerpiece.”
“Because I don’t need a trigger. I don’t need a type. Everyone is my type, and I’m always looking for a reason.”
