Dark Secrets (Dark Secrets #1)(185)
Author: A.M. Hudson

I closed my eyes, crossing my forearms over my chest.

“I’ve touched your hair before.” He lifted a clipping and pressed it to his nose. “I watched you—while you slept, and never intended to touch you, but your hair—” He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. “You smell so pretty. Did he ever tell you that?”

I nodded.

“And it’s not just your blood—it’s you, your human cosmetics, your hair, your clothes. All of you.” He considered the chocolate-brown curls against his palm for a moment, running his thumb over them. “This is easier than I thought.”

“What?” I asked, feeling my shaky breath brush warmly across my salty, tear-stained lips.

“I was sure your beautiful face would force compassion within me, but—” he shook his head, dropping my hair, “—I feel nothing for you, as if you were merely a dog who had bitten a child. I just want to see you dead—in the worst way possible.”

My crossed arms tightened over my chest.

“And, don’t get me wrong; I do see this as a waste of life—beautiful life. I will not deny the fact that you are something special, Ara, but I cannot let you live. You understand this?” He lifted my chin; I nodded, sniffling. “However, I would like to dance with you one last time before I begin.”

My body moved with his, close, circling like two birds falling mid-flight. The feel of his cool fingers at the ribbon of my corset and the softness of his palm against mine, made me wish only that I were his—his girl, for him to touch, to love, to hold. I wanted to be a part of him, as I once was with David.

He spun me out from his body gracefully, and I twirled back into his chest, completely intoxicated by his spell—and completely aware of it too. We swayed together in the cool breeze, surrounded by the trees, where no one could see us, and no one would ever find us—not until he was finished with me.

“Beg me not to kill you,” he whispered, his lips against my brow like a kiss. “Beg me and I will show you mercy.”

“I—” My throat tightened, eyes spilling with tears as I looked into his; he was just like David. But he was going to kill me no matter how much I begged. And the worst part was, it didn’t matter to me, because, as if a thread of finely-woven silk had bound us, I was unable to resist. I wanted him to kill me; I wanted him to hurt me first—because it would be an honour to die by his hand.

“That’s not a very convincing plea for your life, Ara,” he said.

The faint blue sparkle surrounding my thoughts persisted like delirium consuming an otherwise rational mind. I smiled up at him, wishing we would dance this way together, forever. “What are you doing to me, Jason? Why does nothing make sense?”

“Hush now, sweet girl. I am making this easier by allowing you to feel safe with me. It is one of my many talents.”

“But I—”

“Shh. This is an extension of kindness, child. Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

My throat fought hard for its own vocabulary—for common sense. But he smelled just like David, and I missed him so much I just wanted to believe he was David; to imagine for one last moment that I was in his arms—that I still mattered to him.

“Close your eyes and you shall believe it.”

“You can never be him. And you’ll just be closer to becoming the monster he is by killing me—” My gaze delved deep into his hollow, shadowed eyes, “—but you will never have a heart like his, and I will never give you mine.”

We stopped moving, his hands slipping from my body, an icy rush tearing away the cloud of my confusion, leaving behind a sudden explosion of terror. “I don’t want your heart, you stupid girl.” He peeled me from the closeness of his body, tossing me off to the side by my arm. But my dress caught under my toes, my hands flailing as I fell backward, stopping against the ground with a high-pitched surge of wind blasting from my lungs.

Before I could even find the source of the sudden pain I felt, blood gushed out over my fingertip.

“Ooh.” Jason stood over me, wincing. “That looks nasty.”

“Ah!” I pinched the edge of the partially detached nail, my hand shaking like glass in an earthquake.

“You’ll need to fold that back, or it’ll come right off,” Jason said.

“I know,” I yelled at him, trying to use my thumb to roll the nail back in place, but every time I touched it, it shifted and the pain intensified, closing in around me as if I were in a red box.

“Settle down.” Jason took my hand, straightened my arm out to the side—away from my line of sight—and…

“Ah!” I screamed, but it reduced to a tiny whimper as the agony receded. When Jason released me, I doubled over, weeping breathlessly into my skirt. I just wanted to go home. I didn’t want to die like this. Not like this.

“Ara, look at me.”

I struggled to push myself up to my knees, falling on my elbows each time.

The killer just watched. I couldn’t even look at his face to see if he was enjoying it. I felt pathetic and helpless, humiliated at my own whimpering. But I couldn’t stop it. It just kept coming out.

“Why are you crying like that?” He grabbed my arm to help me to my knees.

I tried to speak, but the words had no shape—just distraught sobs, like a hysterical child. All anger had trickled away with realisation; he wasn’t playing games. He really was going to kill me. This was real. This was no book or movie where the girl gets rescued. I was going to die here. Tonight. Even the distant sound of voices, having grown in number, coming toward us, couldn’t be sounds of salvation for me—merely a cruel, cold reminder that there was life beyond this. And I would never know freedom again. “Please just let me go, Jason.”

“I can’t.”

I wiped the tears and dribble from my chin. “Please. I had nothing to do with her death. I—”

“But your lover did.”

“No.” I covered my ears, shaking my head. “David’s not to blame, either. It’s you. You loved her—you brought her into your world—you didn’t protect her!”

“You know nothing!” I felt only a sharp jolt, nerves stinging in the base of my skull as he grasped a handful of my hair, pulling my face closer, his shaky breath coming through his teeth in three short words. “You. Know. Nothing.”

“I know what you are,” I said, arching my neck to stop my hair from coming out. “I know the things you’re capable of.”