Every breath he takes, I can feel deep within my bones.
Like a watchful guardian, he stays put, silently waiting until I fall asleep.
But all I can focus on are those muscular arms wrapped around my waist and that tight snugness his body provides, like a warm, velvety cocoon shielding me from whatever darkness is out there.
How could I ever sleep like this?
My heart is going a million miles an hour like it’s running a marathon all by itself. Every time he moves, my entire body tingles. And I don’t understand why.
I suck in another breath and wait, but he doesn’t seem to be falling asleep either.
Maybe he wasn’t lying when he said he doesn’t sleep.
No wonder he has such sunken-in bloodshot eyes.
I swallow away the lump in my throat.
Could it be related to the Medusa tattoo?
No sleep for the wicked.
His words reverberate in my mind.
And from this corner of the bed, I’m staring straight at the nightstand, where an overturned glass filled with a crystal-clear fluid slowly drips onto the wood, the scent of alcohol penetrating my nostrils.
Goose bumps scatter on my skin, and I close my eyes again, wondering if my sister knew.
If this is the reason she fell.
But in the back of my mind, I think I already know the truth.
Because I’m feeling it too.
“Penelope … Penelope …” My sister’s voice forces me to open my eyes wide.
Her fingers reach for mine just before she falls.
“Stay away, Pen,” she says, but her voice is distorted and not hers.
I try to move, but my feet have sunken into quicksand at the top of the hill, the mud slowly consuming me whole.
“Eve!” I call out her name as she slowly tumbles backward over the hill.
“She won’t come back, Pen.” I turn to look only to find Felix grasping my hand, and no matter how hard I try to jerk free, it only gets me more stuck.
And I just want to reach my sister.
“Don’t make my mistakes,” Eve whispers. “Find my message.”
I scream out loud as her body disappears down the ledge into the crevice of despair.
I sit up straight and pant heavily, sweat droplets rolling down my back as I focus on my environment. I’m still in Felix’s bed, still in his room, still here, still safe.
It was just a nightmare.
A nightmare that really happened and keeps repeating itself in my mind.
I bury my face in my hands for a moment and breathe in and out to try to collect myself.
When I’ve calmed down a little, I open my eyes and look around. To my surprise, Felix is right there.
But his eyes are closed.
Has he fallen asleep?
His arm is draped over my thighs, while the other is tucked underneath his head, and I can’t help but admire him for a second. Much less menacing than the killer boy who literally cut off someone’s finger for sending me a threat. Like this, he almost looks … cute.
I gulp.
He said he wouldn’t sleep, yet here he is …
The sunken-in eyes on his face have reduced a little as though they were hankering for a good night’s rest.
I wonder if his trauma made it impossible for him to sleep.
Maybe this is why he’s so harsh on everyone, even himself.
I slowly push his arm off me and crawl out of bed. I need to get out of this clammy place and reset my mind because that nightmare was too vivid and too fucked up. And why did my brain even bring Felix into it?
I shudder as I make my way across the hall, trying to find a bathroom to wash my face in that isn’t connected to one of their rooms. But the light around a door in the hallway draws me in. It’s the middle of the night. Who’s awake now and why?
The door isn’t closed all the way, so I peek through the crack.
It’s Alistair, and he’s busy with something at his desk, but I can’t tell what.
Curiosity prods me to open the door farther.
His arms move heavily, and his eyes keep flicking back and forth between whatever is in front of him and a phone.
On it is a picture of me.
“I know you’re there.”
His sudden voice spooks me a little, and I clutch the door, wondering if I should make a run for it.
“You can come in,” he says. “I don’t mind.”
I should really leave.
But with that picture on his phone, how could I?
He glances at me over his shoulder. “I won’t bite.”
“I doubt that,” I mutter as I step farther inside.
He smiles. “I might just surprise you someday.”
I approach him, my own picture luring me in as much as the idea of finding out what he’s doing in the middle of the night. The picture was taken on school grounds, where I found him studying on the bench outside while I was searching for Dylan.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” I ask.
I gaze over his shoulders as his hands meticulously move across a thin sheet of paper from left to right. The drawing is only half finished, but I clearly recognize my own face, far more beautiful than it appears in a mirror.
“Oh,” I mutter, in shock.
Alistair places the pencil down on his desk. “I can’t help it.” His eyes remain glued to the paper. “Images keep flooding my mind, and I can’t sleep if I don’t put them down.”
“You drew me,” I mutter.
“Is that weird?”
It takes me a while to respond because I’m stunned. Not sure if it’s because I’m scared or if I’m in awe at his level of detail because, dammit, it’s almost as if he does this for a living.
“No, I’m impressed.”
He turns around to look up at me. “Thanks.”
I smile, but my attention is drawn to the rest of his room, which is so full of clutter I wonder how anyone could ever live like this. Worn and unworn clothes, jewelry, art, and little trinkets here and there. One small crystal egg draws my attention because I have to push the button on the side. Out pops a tiny girl in tights, dancing around and around to a cute little song.
“I got it from a high-end designer store,” Alistair says, breaking the spell.
“You bought this?” I ask.
“I stole it,” he responds.
Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“But why?” I ask.
“Because I like the thrill,” he says.
There’s so much stuff here. He stole all of it? I’m amazed.
“So you don’t intend to use any of it?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
No wonder he stole that stuff at the grocery store when I caught him in the act.
Maybe that’s his thing. His vice.
My eyes suddenly land on a stack of notebooks, and I pick one up, wondering what’s inside.
I sift through the pages. Inside are a ton of drawings of Dylan in all sorts of poses, both with clothes and without. Enticing and sexy, almost. The level of detail is astounding and makes goose bumps scatter on my skin. Until I get to the next page … where I suddenly see my own face.
“Wait—” he mutters.
Too late. I can’t stop flipping through the pages. It’s like a movie come to life.
Image upon image of my own face and body in various poses and places. On the grass and in school, with a smile and with a seductive gaze. And even the one where he was sitting on the bench, and I asked him about Dylan.
The photo he took with his phone.
This is what it was for?
My heart comes to a stop the moment I see myself naked on the page. And the next one. And the one after that.
“You drew all of these?” I ask and I turn to look at him.
He nods. “I couldn’t stop drawing you.”
There’s even one where I’m lying in my bed, sleeping.
The pages tremble in my hands. “You were in my room more than once, weren’t you?”
There’s a long pause.
“Yes.”
I should’ve known the moment I found out he stole the diary.
He’s the kind who stalks. Sneaks. Invades.
When I turn around, he’s right there in front of me.
“Why?” My voice comes out in a squeaky breath.
His hand reaches for my face, and he caresses it so gently I almost fall apart. “I thought I’d found my muse already, but when you came into the picture, you invaded every corner of my mind,” he says.
I glance sideways at the paper lying on his desk. A half-finished drawing of me being spit-roasted on top of a tomb by two guys, one of which is him.
I didn’t realize his obsession ran this deep.
“Are you scared?”
I don’t know how to respond. Whether I should be afraid or impressed.
I shake my head softly, but when the palm of his hand softens against my skin, I instinctively lean into it.
“I’m just confused. I thought you and Dylan—”
“Dylan and I will always be,” he interjects as his hand snakes around the back of my neck, fingers curling through my hair. “But you … you’ve unleashed something inside me that I can’t ignore.”
Suddenly, he smashes his lips on mine, and I don’t know how to react.
With my eyes wide open, I let him kiss me, his hot lips roaming my mouth like he’s wanted to do this for ages and never had the chance.
It’s as if all time has stopped, and all that’s left is us, these drawings, and his obsession over me. He’s pouring everything he has into this one kiss, and it makes my whole body turn to mush in his hands.
But I still push him away. “What if they see us?”
“Then let them.” He hovers so close I can taste his breath. “They’re not the only ones who can have you. You belong to all of us.”
As he leans in to kiss me again, my eyes land on the diary lying right next to the drawing he made of me in the cemetery. My nightmare immediately flashes through the front of my mind again, and I push past him to grab it.
“We haven’t touched it since the posters, I swear,” he says, following me.
“I just … there must be something inside that I’ve missed.”
I sift through the pages again, turning it upside down and inside out, pondering like crazy. At the end is a soft piece of ripped paper at the seam, barely noticeable. Could more than one of the pages have been ripped out?
“Where is this page?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Ali replies. “It wasn’t us.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Believe me,” he says, and he grabs my hand to press a kiss on top. “I would hurt anyone who’d try to harm you like that.”
I swallow. Maybe he’s right. Maybe they didn’t do it.
But no one else touched it, which means the paper was already ripped out before it got into my possession.
Could it still be in her old room?
My eyes widen.
“The fire,” I mutter.
And I immediately run off to the door, clutching the diary tight.
“Where are you going?” Ali asks, catching up with me.
My lips part but pause midway.
If I tell him the truth, he’ll stop me.
“Felix expects me back,” I lie as he grabs the door. “I was just going to go to the bathroom, that’s it.”
His eyes narrow. “You sure that’s the truth?” He leans in with a wicked smirk on his face. “Or are you just trying to run away from me?”
A blush creeps onto my cheeks because his kisses are definitely seared into my mind. But I have to stop myself from thinking about that. More important things are on my mind.
“I need to sleep,” I say. “They were very clear about that.”
He frowns and points at his own comfy-looking bed. “You can sleep here with me.”
“If Felix wakes up and finds me missing, he won’t take it well,” I point out.
Ali takes in a deep breath and sighs. “All right, if you insist.” But before I can run off, he grabs my arm and slams his lips on mine again, the kiss making my head spin. When his lips slowly unlatch, butterflies fill my body. “So you’ll remember me.”
Don’t fall.
Fuck.
No wonder my sister wrote that in her diary.
It wasn’t just some rambling … it was a warning.
And I didn’t take it to heart.
I swallow and nod at Ali, after which he releases me.
“Good night, Penelope,” he says as I make my way down the hall.
When I glimpse over my shoulder, his door closes, and I run back to Felix’s room only to sneak inside and grab my bag. Luckily, he’s still sleeping. I walk toward the nearest stack of clean clothes in his closet and steal some pants and a jacket. Then I grasp a pair of sneakers that are just the right size, so I’m fully dressed and ready to head outside.
There is only one place on my mind, and I need to be well-dressed and prepared for the worst.
I can’t wait until Felix and Dylan wake up to help me. What if they don’t want to? Besides, they might not even let me leave. And if I don’t do this now, the evidence might be gone tomorrow.
Whoever lit that fire in my sister’s room had a reason, a purpose … a target.
Me.
Which means they’re trying to fucking hide something.
And I’m going to find out what.
