Page 261 of Craving Venom
My eyes dart to the left, is that some kind of rooftop access panel? Even if it is I’m pretty sure it’s locked tight with rusted hinges. The stairwell door I came through, no fucking way I’m going back there.
“Eight.”
Then I see a shadow near the duct system. A low crawlspace between two vent stacks, maybe three feet high. It’s not much, but it’s something.
“Nine.”
My feet slap against the ground as I move, sticking close to the walls. I duck low and slide behind the vents, scraping my knees raw on the concrete as I force myself into the narrow gap.
I curl up, pulling my knees tight to my chest, and slap a hand over my mouth to muffle the panting. My other hand presses flat against the cool vent surface like that’ll somehow protect me from the storm I invited in.
Because Zane doesn’t chase.
He hunts.
And I just gave him a reason to enjoy it.
You want him to find you.
No. I don’t.
You do.
His steps stop, the heavy silence stretching so long I think he’s gone.
“Ready or not…”
The words echo off the rooftop.
“…here I come.”
I hear the rooftop door open.
He’s here.
I hear the slow drag of his steps. The wind shifts. His scent hits me. The same scent soaked into the hoodie I’m still wearing. My breath stutters. My thighs press tighter together, trying to feel safe because even after everything I’m still turned on.
His steps stop.
The silence is pressing against my skin. I wait for the sound of breath, the scrape of a boot, anything. But there’s nothing. No shift in the wind. No shadow stretching toward me. Just dead quiet.
I swallow hard and duck my head out just a little farther, glancing to the left, then the right. The rooftop looks empty.
He’s gone.
A shaky, relieved breath leaves my body—
“Caught you.”
The words slither into my ear. They’re hot, dark, and gleeful.
I jerk violently, scrambling backward, but Zane’s already towering over me. I scramble to my feet and spin as panic tears through me.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” I say backing up.
But he’s moving forward.
I trip over a vent pipe, catch myself on a crate. My hands slap against cold stone. I glance behind me, and I am at the edge.
