Page 4

I swearthat fucking tattoo around his neck was moving as I pushed him to the floor and grabbed his neck. I could almost feel it under the palm of my hand, slithering and struggling under my grip. He had looked completely unfazed at my assault; if anything, he almost looked amused by it. Not many people would react that way to my anger. I’ve been told I’m one intimidating fucker when I’m angry, but that’s what happens when you grow up on the streets without a home or a family.

But him? He didn’t give a shit. He loved every second of it. Even now I can feel his fucking hands on my arms and his eyes on my face. Leaving his tent did nothing to cool the anger I felt toward him.

“Cash!” I heard Alyssa shout from behind me. The others we had come with were giving me a wide berth, knowing that my anger wasn’t something to fuck with. But Alyssa always thought she was an exception to the rule, the only one who could handle my moods. She always thought she was special, that I cared for her. Tonight was no exception. “Cash!” she shouts again, closer this time as she takes my arm for the third time tonight.

“Alyssa!” I say in a crude imitation of her voice as I rip my arm from her grasp. Her hands drop to her sides like she touched a live flame. Her eyes instantly show hurt and fear as she takes a step back. “Stop fucking touching me like it’s your right to do so,” I tell her in a low voice as I advance on her.

She’s over five feet tall on a good day, and I tower over her. There are already tears threatening to fall over her lashes, but I’m too far gone in the darkness to care. He’s pushed me to become the thing I hate being.

“Do not touch me right now.”

“Alright, Cash,” one of the other guys says. “Enough. You’re scaring the shit out of her.”

I back up and leave them, hoping they won’t follow. I need some time alone. I need to figure out what the fuck happened back in that tent. I make my way through the carnival, stopping at a picnic table that’s off to the side. I pull out my supplies with shaking hands and lay them out of the table.

I place the guitar pick between my teeth to distract myself as I get to work. Taking the tobacco out of the tin, I place it on a flattened wrapper and then carefully roll it almost all the way before bringing it to my mouth to lick the seam. I do this over and over again, until the worn silver tin is full again and my brain has stopped humming with anger.

There are people all around me, but they’ve become background noise, like a sound machine playing white noise. All I can see replaying in my mind is how his silver eyes raked over my skin like a fucking caress. Even now, as I pick everything up off the table and shove them back in my pockets, I can feel his fucking eyes on me.

I try to look around my surroundings without coming off as paranoid, but I can’t see him, and it makes my chest feel like it’s caving in. I don’t know what the fuck has come over me. This isn’t normal behavior. A normal person doesn’t see someone and become obsessed like this. But I can’t talk myself out of it. Every time I try, my brain somehow pivots right back to him. I can’t shake his incense-and-apple scent from my brain, and I can feel his eyes on me around every corner.

And I know he’s out there somewhere—he’s in my blood. My outburst has only spurred him on, intrigued him. I’ve laid down a challenge, like a fucking alpha fighting for territory, and he’s answering the call.

“Hi there,” a woman says, sitting down next to me at the picnic table. She has golden-blonde hair and bright teal eyes. She looks like an actual angel sitting next to me. Her voice is musical and light, completely at odds with how she is dressed and the blade she’s twirling in her hands. “Name’s Mara,” she announces, sticking her hand out in my direction to shake.

I hesitate but take it.

“Cash,” I tell her, moving the pick out of my teeth and in between my fingers. I fiddle with it like she fiddles with her knife. She looks me up and down, a calm smile on her face as she takes me in. What is it with the people here and them staring at me like I’m their fucking dessert?

“Can I help you?” I ask her after the silence has stretched on too long. I can feel his eyes on my back, and it’s making me feel on edge. It’s like a hundred spiders making their way up my spine and into my hair. I can feel him creep over me like a dark cloud.

“I’m a friend of Rune’s,” she says with an easy smile, like she can’t feel the tension surrounding us.

“And Rune is?” I ask her, looking around, knowing I’m going to find him lurking somewhere in the shadows like a creep.

“He hasn’t even introduced himself? How rude.” She waves her hand and rolls her eyes. “The little white-haired boy with the skirt,” she says, nodding her head to the left. I follow, and I see him there, leaning against one of the food trucks, his legs crossed at the ankle and that same smirk gracing his mouth.

“Little isn’t a word I would use to describe him,” I blurt before I can stop myself. But it’s true—he isn’t little. I’m easily six two, and he’s a bit taller. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel how ripped he was when I shoved him. It was like pressing against a chest made of rock.

“Mhm,” she hums, winking in Rune’s direction. Keeping eye contact with him, she leans in and runs her nose along the outside of my neck, inhaling all the way up to my temple. I sit frozen, wondering what the fuck she’s doing, before a low growl carries itself over my skin. I swear it shakes the ground at my feet and the bench under me. I look over at Rune, but his gaze is trained on Mara this time.

She just laughs and gives me a kiss on the cheek before standing up and walking away, making a show to the passersby with the knives she seems to keep in every part of her outfit. People stop and stare, and she soaks it up like a sponge, smiling and laughing, throwing them into the air and catching them in her mouth. She lowers one slowly into her throat and waits for people to ooh and ahh before pulling it out and skipping down one of the paths. Their claps echo through the open space until they filter into different spaces.

I look back to where Rune was standing, and he’s no longer there. I can’t feel him anymore, either. I pull a cigarette out of my tin and walk away from the other carnival goers to smoke. After I finish this, I think to myself, I’ll go find the group. I’ll have to apologize to Alyssa to get back on everyone’s good side.

I groan and crack my neck as I take the last couple of drags before putting it out. I lean my head back on the same truck Rune had been leaning on moments ago. I roll my head to the side, looking off into the forest that surrounds the carnival. It’s quiet and incredibly dark past the reach of the lights. It’s a new moon tonight, so the sky is lacking that extra bit of light.

Just as I’m about to walk away, something in the brush catches my eye. I push off the truck and squint, trying to see what it is. I stumble back as two glowing eyes catch my attention and blink. My arms flail and catch the brunt of the fall as I careen back onto my ass. My wrists scream from the jolt, and the red eyes blink one more time before they disappear. My heart is racing as I sit on the damp grass and try to catch my breath.

That didn’t feel like Rune, and it certainly didn’t feel human. What the fuck is this place? I take a few deep breaths and stand, looking around as I brush the wet blades of grass from my jeans. I walk away to find my friends, glancing back at the forest until it’s completely out of sight.