Page 3 of Kill for a Kiss

I keep walking, but my steps slow, a feeling old and familiar brushing past me, just out of reach. The laughter and music fromthe reception have faded to a distant hum, swallowed by the hush of wind and the steady crash of waves below. Yet it’s quieter here. Rather…too quiet.

The air shifts around me, almost imperceptible, akin to the weight of a gaze against the back of my neck. That stillness before a storm, when everything seems to hold its breath. I don’t know why I feel it, why my skin prickles with warning, but the sensation tightens around me, squeezing slowly.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be here, not this far from the reception, and not this deep into the vineyard, where the lantern light barely reaches, and the air thickens with every step I take away from the reception. But I keep going. Something tugs at me like a thread catching at my fingers, pulling me forward into the growing darkness, as if the sun doesn’t reach this part of the cliffside.

Then there’s a…soundfrom somewhere close by. It’s low, muffled. It might be a voice, but it sounds choked, strangled, and pained.

The wind stirs, making it impossible to tell if I actually heard something, or if it’s a trick of the wind. Or worse, it might be my mind playing tricks on me. I can’t remember things well, so maybe I’m not able to hear things clearly either. The thought unnerves me, quivering me to the core.

I take another step, my black dress shoes pressing into the damp earth. I have to see if someone might need my help. Maybe they got lost in the vineyard like me. I steady my breath, trying to collect my thoughts. We could return to the reception together.

I pause to listen, while the vines sway around me, casting restless shadows. There’s a rustle, a murmur, and then…a muffled cry, sounding sharp and cut off too quickly, swallowed by the breeze before I can be sure it was ever real.

My breath stutters. My pulse trips. I strain to listen, frozen between moving forward and running back. A broken gasp fromthe other side follows, raw and thin. Then silence again, the sort that crawls under your skin, presses into your ribs, and twists your stomach tightly. A silence that tells youturn back. So I take a slow step backward.Careful…

But then there’s movement this time. A dash of someone beyond the edge of the lantern light. I freeze, breath trapped in my throat. A heavy thud follows. A rustle through the vines. Ripe fruit falls, some landing with soft thumps, others bursting open against the ground, staining the grass dark and wet.

My eyes land on the stains, transfixed on the contrast of colors. Mundane things, little things, yet somehow, they always stand out to me. The slow drip of juice, red against green. As I watch, I see the black shoes of someone on the other side of the vines, rows away from me, hiding behind the tall, wall-like trellises. So tall that I can’t see anything but the other person’s shoes from several rows ahead.

He’s moving, so I move too, as silently as I can. But I’m sure, just as I see his steps, he can see mine. So after another hesitant step, I stay still, hidden behind several rows away. But there—just at the edge of the light—a shadow forms. Its frame tall with broad shoulders.

Frozen, I hold my breath. Then he moves again. A mere footstep. And then another, all slow, measured, and moving toward my direction. A breath slips from my lips. He steps closer, right to the open space where there’s nowhere to hide.

I don’t move, but I stare, still hidden behind vines. My eyes gaze over his polished dress shoes that crush the fruit beneath his feet, the juice bleeding into the earth with each step. The lantern light catches the sharp lines of his all-black suit.

My heart thuds in my chest. My eyes move up to see his…mask. A red goblin’s face, grinning or snarling. I can’t tell with how fast my heart’s beating. Either way, it’s staring right at me.

And I know that mask. It’s adokkaebi. I want to remember how Iknow. I want to force the memories to come back. But trying to do so is hurting my head, making the vines around me spin.

I try to ground myself, staring at the mask again. I take in its jagged mouth, the furrowed brow, and the grotesque sharpness of it. It should make my blood run cold. Instead, my pulse flutters, same as it did earlier. When I was with Kaye, seeing her smile at her husband. When Damon looked at her like she was the only thing in the world.

But this is different. The air between me and this masked man is thick and suffocating.

He keeps moving closer, then stops. He’s close enough now that I can see the steady rhythm of his breath, close enough that I feel the weight of his gaze. My chest tightens a fracture.

His gloved hand rises slowly. But I don’t move. I merely watch, my heart pounding as his fingers curl, tipping the edge of the mask forward, only enough to cast a deeper shadow where his eyes should be. I feel like I’m being drawn into the unseen, the inevitable. And my heart flutters again, so much faster than before.

A breeze stirs between the vines. He stands there, silent and watching. The weight of his presence presses into my skin, lingering all around me. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t make another move. He barely even breathes, as if he’s carved from the growing darkness beyond the vineyard.

The world around us holds its breath. And so do I. Something deep in the back of my mind screams that I should be afraid. That I should turn and run. That I should slip away before this moment turns into what can’t be undone. But I don’t, because for reasons I can’t explain, my heart is still fluttering. Faster than I’ve ever felt. Than I can ever remember.

Then—asnap. The sound cuts through the silence like the start of crackling fire. My pulse leaps as his polished shoe lands on a loose vine, the brittle stem cracking more beneath his weight.

I jolt, breath catching.

His mask tilts ever so slightly, as if he heard the way my breath hitched. And finally, the warning in my head isn’t just a whisper anymore. It’s a scream.Run!

The realization slams into me, lighting up every nerve in my body. My muscles coil. My feet twist. In that same instant, he moves. A simple shift. So slight, so controlled. He’swaiting.

The stillness suffocates me, thick as the warm air pressing in around me. The moment stretches too long.

So Ibolt. My feet slam into the earth. The ground unsteady beneath me, my dress tangling around my thighs, but I don’t stop. Can’t stop. Can’t look back.

The vineyard blurs past me, golden light glowing over the swaying vines, casting shadows that dance, stretch, and distort. My body moves on instinct, my footsteps pounding in frantic rhythm, carrying me forward. Faster.Faster.

The land tilts toward the ocean, where the waves blaze beneath the burning sun. The wind picks up, biting and chilling me to the bone, but I don’t focus on it. I focus on running. I don’t look back. Ican’t.

But I can feel him. His presence clings to me, heavy as the humid air, patient as the dying sun. It feels as if his eyes are searing into my back, sinking into my spine.