Page 71 of The Night Shift

Theo gives it a sidelong glance before meeting my eyes again. “That was new.”

“Does it look like I care?”

His eyes narrow. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

“I don’t need to provoke someone whose neck I can just as easily snap into two.”

Theo laughs and my heart riots at the sound. “That threat is getting a bit too old when it took you three years to stab me in the stomach.”

“Are you honestly trying to taunt me right now?”

“Not at all, love. It seems to me like you’re the one trying to get a rise out of me. Maybe you’re scared of what I might do if you push me too far. Or perhaps, excited?” He throws me a wink.

I’m almost impressed by his audacity. My gaze shifts to his stitched-up wound. A bit of blood is still oozing out and seeping through the thin sweaty fabric of the white shirt. I imagine touching it. I imagine cutting him up a bit more. I imagine making him bleed over and over again until he can’t breathe. The feeling is almost overwhelming. I imagine his blood running down my hand. Warm and sticky. I imagine licking it. Tasting it. Heat pools between my legs and a cold sensation moves down my spine. When I look back up, I realize that Theo’s eyes haven’t left my face even for a second. I grab a stone and throw it at his face. “Stop staring at me!”

He ducks as it flies over his head and falls into one of the graves. “Stop having a face worth staring at.”

I cringe. “Am I supposed to find that endearing? Is that what this is all about? You stalked me for three years —”

“Two and half,” he corrects again.

“— because you’reobsessedwith me?”

His eyes hold a glint of something genuine, a flicker of an adoration I wouldn't expect from a cockroach, let alone Theo. “I’m not obsessed with you.”

I don’t believe him. Hehasto be obsessed with me. I don’t get it, but what other explanation could there be? I don’t know much about stalkers. Most of my knowledge comes from books and movies, but they all seem to have a single motive: a delusional belief in romantic destiny.

Jesus fucking Christ, what have I gotten myself into? I want to laugh, or scream, or crawl into some hole, anything to escape this absurd reality where Theo Carter is obsessed with me. A tremor of something — self-loathing, maybe, or the flicker of a possibility I don’t want to name — twists in my gut. Theo Carter is obsessed withme? The thought is terrifying. It’s terrifying, dizzying and…exhilarating.

I shake my head. This is not a good thing. He’s a fucking creep who knows I’ve killed people, and I need to make sure that none of this is going to be a problem after tonight.

I take a step back and ask him to retrieve the two bodies from the trunk of his car.

A shy smile curves his lips.

“What?” I ask, losing patience.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t make me force it out of you.”

His smile widens and he shakes his head, biting his lip to suppress it. “You’ll get mad.”

“I’m already mad.”

His smile widens and I swear I see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “I’ve had this exact dream once.”

“What dream?”

“This. You and me. Out in the woods burying some bodies together. I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”

I stand mute for a few seconds. Great. No, this is great. Not only is my stalker a giant pain in the ass and the actual bane of my existence, but also fully psychopathic. Just what I needed.

“Although,” he continues, “in my dream, you were definitely wearing less clothing. So was I.”

My ears heat. A warm blush travels up my neck and another wicked smile lifts the edge of his lips. “You all right, love? You look a little flustered. Was it something I said?”

“Make another snarky comment and Iwillrip out your spleen from your fucking ass.”