Page 1 of Bitten By Desire (Crooked Point #1)

Saturday

Ten years ago

I squinted out the windshield as I drove slowly up the winding path. This couldn’t possibly be the right place. We were in the middle of nowhere. “Are you sure it was a left instead of a right back there?”

“Positive,” Zoey said. “It should be just past this next bend.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Just keep driving. I promise it’s there.”

Who the hell would live all the way out here? “We drove past campus ten minutes ago. There’s no way the party is this far away in the middle of a forest.”

“Do I look like someone that a guy would give a fake invite to?” asked Zoey.

I laughed. “No.” A guy would be insane to stand Zoey up. “Especially since every shirt you own shows off way too much stomach or way too much cleavage.”

“Eyes on the road, Emma!” she yelled.

My tires screeched on the pavement as something ran in front of my car in the darkness.

I swerved off the road and right into a ditch.

“What the hell was that?” It felt like my heart was in my throat as I stared off into the forest where I thought the animal had run. But I couldn’t see a damned thing .

Zoey leaned forward, pressing her hands against the dashboard. “I don’t know. A fox maybe?”

“That was way bigger than a fox.”

“You didn’t hit it, did you?”

“I don’t think so?”

“What do you mean you don’t think so?” Zoey unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. “Shit.”

God, had I hit it? I climbed out too and walked in front of the headlights. I didn’t see any blood or anything. I turned to look in the forest. Had it crawled in there? And seriously, what the heck was that thing?

“We have a problem,” Zoey said.

I turned to see her pointing to our popped tire instead of a dead animal. “Crap.”

She pulled out her cell phone. “Do you have any service out here?”

I went back to the car and grabbed my camera and my cell phone. “Zero bars,” I said. “Please tell me you know how to change a flat tire?”

“What about my outfit is screaming that I know that?”

The sound of branches cracking made us both spin around. But there was no one there. “Hello?” I called out into the darkness.

The only response was the chilly wind.

“Hello?!” I called a little louder. I turned back to Zoey. “And this is where we die.” I lifted my camera and snapped a picture. “The last photo you’ll ever be in.”

She laughed. “Nonsense.” She pushed my camera out of the way. “The house really is right around the bend. Past all those trees. ”

What was she talking about? We were in a freaking forest. There was no clearing.

“And there are going to be tons of hot, athletic guys there to help us change our tire.”

“There’s nothing out here.” I gestured to the stretch of darkness in front of us. “If there was a house there’d be lights. Or some kind of semblance of humanity.”

Zoey turned on the flashlight feature on her phone. “So your plan is to stay out here and get eaten by a huge fox? Because I’m definitely not okay with that.”

“Do you really think it was a fox? It didn’t look red to me. Maybe it was a dog?”

“I’m not waiting to find out. Come on.” She looped her arm through mine and started walking down the empty road, her high heels echoing in the creepy silence.

I really wished I was wearing sneakers, but she’d talked me into dressing like her tonight. “Also, if this is a huge party, why isn’t there anyone else driving up here?”

“We’re fashionably late, of course.”

She loved being fashionably late. I was pretty sure it was more fashionable to be on time. “I should have just stayed home.”

“You’ve already eaten enough ice cream for one week.”

“Rude.” I elbowed her in her side.

“Ow.” She swatted my arm. “But seriously, you can’t keep moping around. It’s time to move on.”

“Jackson and I broke up one week ago. I’d hardly say I’ve been moping around that long. And a pint of ice cream a day is just a good source of calcium.”

“Mhm. ”

“I mean…it technically is.” I think. I hadn’t checked the nutrition information because I’d been too busy crying into my bowl.

“Trust me, you need this, Emma. The best way to get over a cheating ex is to hook up with a hotter guy from his rival team. As the old saying goes.”

“There is definitely no saying like that.”

“But think about how pissed Jackson is going to be when you take a picture of yourself making out with a striker from the Wildcats.”

“Oh, maybe that was a wildcat,” I said. I hung my camera around my neck and looked off into the trees.

“Like the mascot or…”

“No, an actual wildcat. Like a…cougar. Are there cougars around here?”

“God, I hope not.” She quickened her pace, pulling me with her. “It was definitely a fox. And focus. You can have whatever player you want, but I call dibs on the goalie. He’s the one that asked me here.”

“Great, I’ll hook up with the striker.”

“Really?” She looked so excited.

“No. Because none of that’s going to happen. Because we’re in the middle of nowhere and…” my voice trailed off as we rounded the bend. There was clearing just like she’d said.

“You were saying?”

I stared up at the gothic style house in front of us.

It was so big it looked more like a castle.

Maybe during the day it was inviting, but it certainly didn’t look that way right now.

It was all black with flickering lights in the windows.

Were those candles or was the lighting as bad as our cell reception ?

“I think I’ll take my chances with the fox,” I said. I stared at the gargoyles on either side of the front door. I knew they were believed to ward off evil. But any house that had them seemed much more sinister. And I couldn’t help but think there was evil lurking inside rather than outside.

Someone opened the front door, ran down the stairs, and threw up in the grass.

Well, at least that seemed like a normal college party.

“We’re definitely in the right place,” Zoey said. “Let’s go find you a striker. And remember you have to take a picture. Jackson is going to freak out.”

I didn’t really care what Jackson thought of me coming to this party.

Besides, he wasn’t busy checking my Instagram on a Saturday night.

He was much more likely screwing the blonde sophomore with the fake tits like he had last Saturday.

When I walked in on him. Because he’d given me a key to his freaking place. Idiot.

I lifted my camera and snapped a picture of the haunted mansion. “You’re right,” I said. “Let’s go hook up with the hottest players.”

Zoey squealed and we made our way up the front steps.

It’s not like I’d ever see any of these guys again.

Or like I’d ever go to another party in this haunted mansion.

I’d wasted enough time on Jackson. My whole college experience.

I’d be graduating at the end of next semester and he was the only boy I’d kissed.

I needed someone else’s lips on mine to erase his existence.

The inside of the house was just as sinister as the outside. There were old portraits lining the walls of the foyer. And it was indeed candles in the windows. But there were students everywhere, loud music, and the smell of stale beer lingering in the air.

“Is this a frat house?” I yelled over the music.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really seem like it, does it?”

No, it definitely didn’t. So…who was throwing this party?

I grabbed a red cup from the bar in the corner of the living room.

And it wasn’t a makeshift bar like at Jackson’s frat house.

It was an actual bar with liquor lining the shelves behind it.

All old, dark wood. This looked more like the dean’s house than a frat house.

But there was no way the dean would be throwing the soccer team a party just because they’d crushed us earlier today.

I smiled, remembering Jackson’s shot being saved by their goalie.

“You made it!” a guy yelled and picked Zoey up in his arms, twirling her around.

That must be the goalie she was so excited about. I sipped my drink as I stared at the two of them being adorable.

“Nice game!” I yelled.

“Thanks.” He winked at me and then turned to Zoey. “Do you want to dance?!” he shouted over the music.

“Oh…um…” Zoey turned to me.

“Go! I’ll be fine.” I shooed her away.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Go find your striker!” She blew me a kiss as the guy pulled her to the dance floor.

I took a picture of the two of them dancing.

I didn’t have a doubt in my mind that Zoey would hook up with her goalie.

But I was definitely not going to have a one night stand with some random soccer player just to make Jackson jealous.

Because he wouldn’t be. And I doubted it would make me feel better.

I walked past the bar and stared at one of the old portraits. We were in the living room now, but the pictures were a constant throughout the house. And maybe it was the drink in my hand…or the spooky walk up…but I swear the eyes in the portraits shifted as I stared at them.

A chill ran down my spine and I turned around.

But no one was watching me or anything. Everyone else was dancing and flirting.

I turned back to the portrait, lifted my camera, and snapped a photo, silently wishing that when I uploaded it to my computer, the portrait would be blinking from the flash.

I tried to shake away the thought as I took another sip of my beer.

I stopped in front of another portrait. It was so well done that it almost looked like a picture.

I loved photography, but I wished I could paint too.

There was something especially captivating about these old portraits.

It wasn’t just capturing one moment. The subject had to sit there for hours on end.

A show of patience I definitely didn’t have.

This portrait was more captivating than the rest. Probably because the subject was devastatingly handsome, minus the scowl on his face.

He had dark hair and almost golden eyes.

I’d never seen anyone’s irises such an enchanting hue.

That was the other thing that was cool about painting.

You could use your imagination. Alter things for fun.

I couldn’t do that with my camera unless I sat down for hours with editing software. I also lacked the patience for that.

And this subject lacked patience as well.

Or else he’d be smiling instead of scowling.

I snapped a picture of this portrait too.

It was hard not to take photos of beautiful things.

I looked down at the gold placard beneath the portrait.

Sir William Evans, 1779. I swore this University was established in the 1900s.

I shook my head. I must have had that date wrong.

I grabbed another drink and then kept walking, following the rest of the portraits back out into the hall. And down another hall. The farther I walked, the quieter the music grew. And the dimmer the lighting.

But I couldn’t stop taking in all the portraits.

Who were all these people? The idea that we were in the dean’s residence was starting to seem more plausible.

But this school was only old enough to have a few drawn portraits of past deans.

A few dozen though? Why wouldn’t they have just started taking photos?

I wandered into another room. It was similar to the living room, but instead of a bunch of people dancing in the middle, there were a few loveseats facing each other.

Maybe it was an old-fashioned sitting room.

Or maybe a fancy office. I stared at the desk along one wall.

Everything looked so delicate, I was almost afraid to touch anything.

I finished my drink so I wouldn’t spill it.

And then I sat down on one of the cushions.

I pulled out my phone. I had a signal now. Zoey said she’d ask some guys to fix my car. So I wasn’t worried about that. I clicked on the Instagram icon and went to Jackson’s profile.

The last photo he’d posted was still of us, smiling at the camera.

Why was it still of us?

Every time I looked, which was more frequent than I liked to admit, it was the same photo. Why wasn’t there one with that blonde ?

I bit the inside of my lip. He’d said it was a mistake. A one-time thing. I hadn’t believed a word of it.

But what if he was telling the truth? I stared at our smiling faces. What if he was sorry? Was one slip up really worth throwing three years of my life down the drain?

I knew what Zoey thought. But Zoey didn’t get it. She hooked up with a different guy every weekend. That wasn’t me. I didn’t want to hook up with a random striker. I wanted someone to love me back.

I refreshed my screen. Again. And again.

A bad habit I needed to stop. But I refreshed it once more anyway and there it was.

Jackson with his arm wrapped around the blonde.

Her boobs were practically pouring out of her dress.

Just this once my ass. I felt tears welling in my eyes.

It was almost like I had accidentally wished his new relationship into existence.

“You really shouldn’t be in this wing,” said a deep voice.

I jumped. A man was leaning against the doorjamb, staring at me.

I quickly stood up, blinking away my tears. “Sorry. I was just looking at the portraits.”

“There are no portraits in here.” He didn’t look around, he just knew. He kept his eyes trained on me.

His golden eyes. The same color as in the portrait. Maybe eyes could be that enchanting in real life.

But it wasn’t just his eyes that were the same as the portrait. His hair. His nose. His lips.

He lowered his eyebrows as he stared at me.

The same sulking expression with his lowered eyebrows. “You look almost exactly like this guy in a portrait in the living room.” But that wasn’t possible. Because that man was long dead. And the guy standing in front of me was very much alive.

He lowered his eyebrows even more as he stared at me.

I thought the man in the portrait had been sulking. Annoyed that it was taking so long for the artist to finish. But this guy wasn’t sulking. He looked…angry.

My throat made a weird squeaking noise.

His golden eyes dropped to my lips.

Or maybe he wasn’t mad at all. I had the oddest sensation that he looked hungry. For me.