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But I was grumpy. Getting hunted did that to a girl.
The woman’s chest puffed up, ready to tell me off.
I sighed, adjusting my tone to something reasonable. “Listen, I’m trying to catch my stalker. This is serious business. Fuck off.”
Dammit, Gray. That last part was only supposed to be in your head.
To my surprise, her haughtiness evaporated. Steely strength reflected back at me in those pretty eyes. “Oh. Well, in that case, godspeed.”
I watched her sashay down the aisle like a damn supermodel with so much grace that I knew she had to be some kind of shifter.
That was unexpected.
I adjusted my camera angle again, focusing back on my task. No matter where I went, no matter how quickly I moved, no matter where I hid, he was never far behind—
The automatic sliding doors clunked open. A bell rang, announcing a newcomer.
I poured the rest of the candy into my mouth, tossed the wrapper, and got into position once more. My hands slick with sweat, phone slightly shaking, I waited for my quarry.
He hasn’t attacked me. He doesn’t try to hurt me. If I can get an up-close shot of his face, it’s unlikely he’ll even realize it. Therefore, no reason to kill me.
The soft click click of bootheels on tile drew closer, closer. Were those his shoes?
My pulse pounded in my ears. This was it. This was my chance—
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Chills ran down my spine. My intuition magic raged to life.
Someone’s behind me.
The only warning was a soft, warm exhale on the shell of my ear. And then, a question: “Whatcha looking at?”
I had a moment of shock where I turned my head to see the stupid yellow bucket hat inches from my face, the man beneath it smiling conspiratorially from behind his dark frames.
Like we were friends or some shit.
A plan formulated through my shock. It wasn’t a good plan, but who the hell cared?
Clearly, I was dying today.
I clutched the top of my extra-large chip bag, wielding it like a weapon. Shifting my feet and twisting on my toes gave me the little momentum I needed to smack the chip bag across the stalker’s face.
It exploded like a gunshot, raining potato chips down on us.
In the next second, I pulled a thin blade from the convenient little sheath on the side of my boot and pressed it against his throat.
He stared at me, brows raised. Three chips balanced themselves on his hat.
His pulse beat through the blade handle. Or was that my own panicked heartbeat?
Panting, I managed, “Fuck off. Leave me alone. Stop following me. This is your first and final warning.”
Instead of scaring him, my words had the very opposite effect.
The stranger leaned forward, his face closing in on mine, his skin pressing into my blade. Surprised, I faltered and eased up on the pressure.
His smile faded, and he tilted his chin. Almost as if to kiss a lover.
Frozen and buzzing with fear, I just watched as the space between us closed to only a measly inch.
