Page 7

Chapter 7

Penelope

I shout uselessly at the door, banging against the wood with my hands. The stranger is out there. After the hefty click of the lock sliding into place, I hear his heavy footfalls thump down the hallway.

Stupidly, I try the handle, but it won’t budge. This house is ancient, with one of those old-timey locks. Unless I can get the hinges off the door or he unlocks it, I’m fucked. The reality of my situation twists my stomach in knots.

Shit. I’ve got to think. I need to find a way out of this room. He knows something about whatever was with me in the water that day, and it has this mountain of a man afraid. Something about my asking questions has spooked him. But why?

Focus. That’s the kind of thinking that got me here in the first place.

I don’t need to care about this stranger or what I saw in the water. It doesn’t matter that I feel a connection to him. I need to get my ass out of this house and haul my butt to the police. Despite knowing I should, the thought of involving the authorities adds to my unease.

Once I get myself out of here, I need to go back to studying lobster reproduction. Slightly boring. Stable. Very adult. No fantasies or red flags. Absolutely no broad shoulders or monsters.

Straining, I listen for the sounds of the stranger, but the house is silent. I pace the small, threadbare bedroom. White plaster walls, no decor. A wrought-iron bed that may have been new when the house was built. White sheets. It’s so sterile it could be a hospital room.

The drawer in the small wooden nightstand is empty. No odds and ends under the bed that I could use to escape. I drag the wooden chair in the corner underneath the window. I’m average height for a woman, but this window is higher than modern ones.

I climb up so I can comfortably look out. A hysterical sound escapes me. This room is at the back of the house, practically hanging off the edge of a cliff. To escape through the window, I’m going to have to balance on a narrow ledge until I get to the drainpipe.

There is no doubt that if I breathe wrong, I will fall to my death into the crashing sea. I love the outdoors, but I’m not particularly graceful, and my odds don’t look great.

The horizon flashes with lightning, a storm right off the coast looming closer.

It’s now or never.

Opening the old window proves more difficult than I anticipated. It makes a racket, squeaking and groaning as I push it up. I wince, freezing on the chair as I pause to listen for the stranger.The house is still quiet. I wait a solid minute before I try again, pushing the window farther up until I can fit.

The window is narrow, but I hoist myself onto the sill and straddle it. I’m in rubber boots with no grip, so I go slowly and find my footing. It takes a lifetime to get out the window and onto the ledge. I keep stopping to listen for the stranger and to ensure my footing is secure before I move.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the briny sea air. My limbs loosen. I let myself focus on the sensation of the wind rushing through my hair. I can do this.

One shuffling step. Another. I reach the end of the ledge and go for it, grabbing hold of the drainpipe.The metal groans and shakes, but I leap anyway. I spider-monkey the pole for a moment before I can psych myself up enough to shimmy down a few inches.

Don’t die. Don’t die.

My arms burn from the strain, but I keep moving until I’m inching down past another window. I can’t hear anything but the wind and the sea, so I move more quickly, hoping he isn’t watching from inside as I scale down the wall.

When my feet hit the narrow rocky ledge at the back of the house, I almost weep in relief. I shuffle to the edge and duck down, creeping along the side of the house.

That’s when I hear the ax fall on the wood, and I curse under my breath. Peering around the side, I confirm that the stranger is back out front. Hunkering down, I wait for my chance to run.

We’ve been out here for what feels like an eternity while I wait for an opening to escape, and the stranger throws his ax. The adrenaline from my earlier climb down has dissipated and now I’m tense with fear and sore from holding still for so long.

He stopped cutting wood when he ran out of lumber and has instead shifted to throwing his ax at a target mounted to a tree.He’s right in front of my car and has a clear view of the road, his back facing me. The muscles of his wide shoulders flex and bunch as he lifts the handle and throws the blade. It would be hot if I didn’t think there was a possibility he might throw the ax at me if I ran.

I’ve debated trying to sneak into the house to see if I can find anything to help me escape, but I’m too afraid he’ll see me. There isn’t any cover near the house except the wood pile, and that’s not close to the door.Besides, darkness has set, and the storm is almost on top of us. The temperature has dropped, the wind whipping the waves into a frenzy.

The stranger has been focused. Silent. Watching his methodical movements is unnerving. It’s as if he’s stuck in place, doing the motions on a time loop.

Turning away from him, I calculate my odds. Not far in the other direction, it looks like some kind of trail leads down the cliff. Maybe to a beach or a cave? In the darkness, it’s hard to tell.

I look back at the mountain of a man. Even though I’m afraid, he is also the saddest creature I’ve ever seen. I can’t reconcile the man who kissed me on the bed or even the riled-up one who threw me over his shoulder with the husk of a man on the lawn. Something about him tugs at my heart and calls me to him.

No. He’s not for you!

Rain splatters in fat drops that turn to slick sheets. Forcing myself to move, I dart toward the trail. My hands grip the damp sea wall, and I almost trip on the slick rock at the opening of the trail.Thunder rumbles as the heart of the storm moves closer.

His voice carries on the wind, a broken cry. “You want to know what I know, my violet eyed human?”

I freeze and turn back to him, caught out in the open with nowhere to hide.

Human? He said human right?

Amid the white rain, he stands, arms out and head thrown back. The sound of his roar into the darkness bounces around until it feels as though it’s everywhere and nowhere. It’s filled with so much pain, it nearly takes my breath.

But the most haunting thing is the bright symbols that mark his skin as though he’s lit from within. All of his tattoos glow. They’re so bright that I can see them clearly through his clothes. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

No. That’s not right. It’s like the creature that was with me in the water. A mark exactly like the one in the photograph glows on this man’s back.

What does this mean? Was he with me in the water? But how?

He doesn’t turn to face me, though he knows I’m here. His skin is a brilliant beacon in the night, and I step closer.

“I’m a man who lost everything and everyone I’ve ever loved.”

My insides ache at the despair in his voice. It’s a sound devoid of all hope.

“I’m a monster. Leave before I’m your death too.”

He stomps across the yard, his footsteps sloshing in the rain. The door slams, the glass in the front rattling with the force.

I look at my car and the dark path cut into the forest then back at the house. This is my chance. I need to run. Run and never look back.

But I can’t let it go. The need to understand is a hunger in my gut, gnawing at my insides. Was he with me in the water? Did he save me, bring me to the surface? Is he not human? What are those marks on his skin? I would say it was magic if I didn’t know any better.

It isn’t only my curiosity about the water. It’s this man, this haunted stranger. His words cause an ache that lodges in my throat, choking me. Who did he lose? Why does he think he’s a monster? He’s lonely and hurting, carrying a secret so big that he’s falling apart under the weight of it.

I recognize his loneliness. Sometimes I’m so fucking lonely I think I might disappear. All my life, I’ve tried to fit in, do what everyone expects, and stay in the lines. But it’s never enough.

I’m always too much. Too loud and opinionated for my family. Too socially awkward to make many friends. Too weird and messy for Daniel. I was an obligation to my parents and my husband.

But this mysterious stranger with glowing skin and haunted eyes saw me. In the darkness and this raging storm, he called out to me, and I felt the ache of his longing in my soul.

Even though logically I have no reason not to run, walking away from him feels impossible. My feet carry me across the yard, but instead of the darkness of the forest, I turn toward the lighthouse. He’s told me to leave, but I can’t go until I know who he is. Or why it feels as though I’m meant to know him.