Haunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet Book 1)

by H. D. Carlton

  “I’m going to kill you, monster.”

  I don’t have time for this shit.

  The longer I’m trapped in a room with Chucky’s Bride, the more opportunity handed over to Mark. If the men notice I’m nowhere to be found, and Addie is left vulnerable, nothing will stop them from seizing the moment.

  She’s more interested in talking, and time is ticking. I charge at her, but I’m surprised by how much fight she has in her.

  I humor her, the sloppy attacks beginning with a knife and ending with her fists. The entire time, she rages like a petulant child. Throwing a fit because she can’t land a strike.

  I see the desperation leaking into her expression, just as antsy to take me down as I am her.

  Finally, I land one good sucker punch to her nose, causing her to lose her footing and go crashing to the ground.

  She screeches out some idle threat, but my focus is on the door. I storm past her, whipping out the door and charging down the hall.

  “Jackal!” she screeches from behind me, but I pay her no mind. I don’t know who the hell she’s talking to, but I don’t give a fuck.

  I stop short when I look to my left and see the four men of the night packed into a room.

  I breathe out a sigh of relief, a small weight lifting off my shoulders with the confirmation that they didn’t get the chance to trap Addie.

  Until I hear the words that come out of their fucking mouths.

  “Where did she go?” Miller asks, staring at Mark. “The van is already set to go. They just need to know their location.”

  I snap straight, and my body stiffens like cement being injected into my spinal cord.

  “We’ll find them,” Mark placates. “Zack wasn’t with them, so he must’ve lost them in the chaos. It’s the perfect time.”

  “You do realize you’re going to have to handle him, right? When he finds out Addie is gone?” Robert cuts in. “With those nasty scars on his face, I have a feeling you’re underestimating him.”

  Mark waves a hand, dismissing Robert’s concerns. His very fucking valid concerns.

  “He got those scars because he was weak, Robert.”

  I laugh silently, my head thrown back and shoulders shaking as I let his very ill-minded assumption wash through me. And then my laugh bleeds out, rocketing through the small space and blending with the other creepy noises pinging around this house.

  The four men’s heads snap towards me, and bleed dry of whatever color was left in their faces. The four of them are sweaty and look like they have watched their worst nightmares come to life. They’ll soon realize that I sit on the fucking throne, and their nightmares bow to me. I’m far worse than any monster they could ever imagine.

  I walk into the room, the grin on my face widening when they flinch away.

  “Za—” Mark starts.

  “You know how old these scars are, Mark? Very old. My opponent was a formidable one, but do you want to know who ended up on the floor with their throat slashed and holes where their eyeballs used to be? Certainly wasn’t me, fucker.”

  Mark tries to brush off my story with a laugh, the sound choked and broken. “Zack, please, we weren’t speaking of your girlfriend.”

  “Mark, the last thing you want to do is lie to me.”

  Just as Mark opens his mouth, a little door in the room springs open and out crawls the biggest fucking nuisance of the night.

  “For the love of God, please leave me alone,” I snap. Mark and his friends turn to find the doll straightening, a determined gleam in her eye.

  Her face brightens. “God has nothing to do with this, silly.”

  Chapter 29

  The Manipulator

  “I

  think if I don’t go sit the fuck down, I’m going to collapse. You’ll have to peel me out of this mud.”

  I point towards a bench. “Go ahead and relax. I’m going to go through the House of Mirrors real quick.”

  “Fine by me, it’ll take you forever to get out of that thing, and it’ll be time to go.”

  The House of Mirrors has always been one of my favorite places. It’s an elaborate maze of mirrors, and very difficult to find your way out of. It’s one of the biggest buildings at the fair, and they fill every inch of it with mirrors.

  The fair will close in about a half-hour. It’s pushing it, but it should be just enough time to get through it if I concentrate.

  The house is painted all black—no array of colors, flashing of lights, or smoke. I’ve always thought it was trippier like this. Sometimes it feels like being in a silent room, left with nothing but your thoughts as your own image haunts you.

  It takes all of five minutes before I’m thoroughly lost. I keep my hands held out before me, preventing me from running face first into one of the mirrors.

  I did that a couple of years ago and my nose was bruised for a week.

  A few minutes pass by with nothing but the company of my own reflection. My heart rate is pumping erratically, my breathing uneven with excitement. Despite the pounding in my chest, this is where I feel most… normal.

  Off in the distance, I hear a faint shuffling of feet. Not very many people come in here, especially this late, but there’s plenty of people who like to take on the challenge.

  Continuing on my wayward path, I concentrate on where I’m going, soon forgetting about anything else going on around me. The trick is to focus on the floor and not your reflection.

  Just as I almost face plant a mirror, I hear a dark chuckle. My head snaps up, the tone of the laugh sounding evil. A spark of adrenaline ignites, pumping the chemical into my heart and kicking up the speed further.

  Did an employee dressed as a monster sneak in here to mess with me? I wouldn’t hold it past them. They’re known to follow people around and terrorize them.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turn to find my bearings. If there is a creepy monster in here with me, I’d rather they not get close enough that I have to look at a thousand of their reflections.

  Finding my way past the mirror that almost gave me a nose job, I start ahead again.

  “Little mouse.” The whisper seems to travel from every direction.

  My limbs lock, not sure if my imagination is playing tricks on me or if Zade is actually here.

  Unfreezing, I force myself to keep moving, hoping I’m just imagining things.

  “Where are you, little mouse?”

  I gasp, the deep voice closer. Another sinister chuckle echoes, and Jesus Christ, this man is capable of evil. No one sane sounds like that.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I take three deep, calming breaths, trying to ease my racing heart.

  He’s fucking with me. Trying to scare me. And it’s fucking working when I’m trapped in a maze of mirrors, and he’s laughing like a goddamn lunatic.

  He can’t just let me have my night, can he? For once, I didn’t think about him and my conflicting feelings. And though Zade doesn’t quite scare me as much—except for maybe right now—the feelings he brings out of me certainly do.

  Maybe if I keep quiet, he won’t find me.

  Restarting my path, I quicken my pace until I’m speed walking through the labyrinth of mirrors.

  I’ve no idea how far I am, but I don’t even think I’ve made it halfway through.

  It’s right then that I see the first image of Zade reflected back at me. Dressed in all black, with his scarred face hidden deep in his hood. I gasp, whipping around just to find more of his reflection.

  He’s not behind me, but he’s somewhere close.

  “Stop it,” I bite out, fear constricting my chest.

  He doesn’t answer, and of course, the fucker doesn’t listen. I’m caught in a whirlwind, my body continuously moving in circles, desperate to pin exactly where he is.

  “You all alone, baby girl?”

  I swallow. “Obviously,” I whisper, still searching for where he is. It feels like I shouldn’t have said that.

  “No one here to save you?”

>   A shot of anxiety hits me in the chest.

  “Why the hell would I need to be saved, Zade? You going to hurt me?”

  It’s then he lifts his head, just enough for me to provide a view of his mouth. A wicked smirk is stretched across those lips.

  I try to remember that he won’t hurt me. He was just in my bed a week ago, sad and vulnerable. By the time I opened my eyes in the morning, he was gone, and I haven’t heard from him since.

  But my brain is having trouble connecting who he is now to who he was then.

  Because now… he looks savage.

  “I’m going to ruin you,” he corrects. I take a step back, a lump forming in my throat. His image moves, his body walking in a different direction. Is he coming closer? I can’t tell. I take another step back, the adrenaline in my system rising to dangerous levels.

  He’s scaring me.

  “Run,” he growls. My lungs constrict at the guttural command. “If I catch you, I fuck you.”

  Eyes widening, I listen, my body catapulting into action.

  I run.

  In here, I’m completely vulnerable to him. I’m well and truly trapped in the spider’s web, and the son of a bitch is poisonous.

  His reflection follows me everywhere I go. There were a few times I was convinced I’d truly lost him, seeing nothing but my own image. And then he’d step out from somewhere, crushing my hopes.

  After a few minutes, I’m out of breath. The adrenaline and fear are getting to me. My chest is constricted too tight, my lungs reduced to strings and no longer capable of holding oxygen.

  I’m lost and trapped with a very dangerous man who is going to absolutely devastate me. I don’t think I’m running from him anymore, but rather from the person I’m going to be when he’s finished with me.

  I was ready to give myself over to him when he emerged from my balcony doors and came to me with a heavy heart. The man put some type of spell on me, because when he was hurting, all I wanted to do was make him feel better. Give myself over to him if that’s what would help.

  But I know that I would’ve woken up the next day and hated myself. Because I would’ve slept with a stalker, a murderer and a man who has forced himself on me on several occasions. I would’ve slept with a man who doesn’t respect my boundaries, my personal space, or the word no.

  And I know without a shadow of a doubt that’s exactly what’s about to happen. How do I accept that? How do I toss away the moral compass that’s been directing my entire life?

  For a man that I should loathe, but… I don’t. I just don’t. He’s all those things, but he’s also one of the most admirable men I’ve ever met. The devotion and passion he has for saving women and children stolen away from their homes and lives, he’s doing something massive in the world and making an impact in a substantial way. I can't even begin to put into words the way he makes me feel.

  He’s such a fucking oxymoron. Contradicting in the most agonizing ways.

  And despite his cracked moral compass, I feel safe with him. Even now, when fear is rewiring my brain.

  I stop running, panting heavily.

  Hopeless.

  That’s what running from Zade is. Fucking. Hopeless.

  Chest pumping, I wait for him to find me. Obviously, I’m not going to be able to outrun him. My only chance of escaping is to somehow incapacitate him, and then try to run.

  A laugh bubbles up my throat.

  He’s been training me to do just that, right? My shadow has been giving me the means to protect myself.

  Against him.

  Hot breath tickles my ear, sending chills down my spine. I close my eyes, biting my lip until I taste copper when I feel his body press into my back.

  He keeps his hands to himself for now, but I know that won’t last much longer.

  It’s no secret how much he loves to touch me without my permission.

  “I’ll scream,” I threaten in a breathless whisper.

  His breath fans across my neck as I feel him lean down. Soft lips brush the shell of my ear. Shivers cascade down my spine like a raging waterfall.

  “That’s such a good little girl,” he replies.

  I whip around, ready to tell him off, but not a syllable escapes when my lips are captured between his the second I come face-to-face with him.

  Instinctively, I bite down on his bottom lip. A deep groan swirls through my mouth, spurring me to bite harder. Explosions riot from our connected mouths, along with the flavor of mint and a hint of smoke.

  He tastes delicious, and I want him out of my mouth.

  As if hearing my thoughts, his palm reaches up to wrap around the back of my head, his fingers tangling in the depths of my hair and pulling me impossibly closer.

  And then I do something really stupid.

  I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, lost in the taste of him. The feel of his lips against mine.

  Realizing what I’m doing, I release his lip, attempting to pull away from him. His mouth is a drug, and just like the real thing, it causes me to make incredibly stupid decisions.

  He doesn’t let me go and instead returns the sentiment. Sucking my lip into his mouth and delivering his own sharp nip. I gasp from the pain, granting him access and allowing him to invade my mouth.

  My pussy responds in kind, throbbing from the feel of his tongue. Memories bombard me, remembering what that tongue felt like sliding against my clit.

  An involuntary moan escapes, and the second he tastes my body’s betrayal, his kiss turns fierce.

  He completely consumes me, sucking and licking my lips and tongue in a way I’ve never experienced. I’m helpless to stop him, just as I am helpless to fight it.

  Another growl pings through my mouth, my only warning to his next move. He grabs my waist and twirls me right up against a mirror, pinning me against the cool glass as his body molds into mine.

  “Such a good fucking girl,” he praises against my mouth before wrapping my swollen lips into another bruising kiss.

  Breathless, I force my head away, sucking in precious oxygen. He clamps my cheeks between his large hand, growling against me.

  “Give me those fucking lips,” he snarls, forcing his tongue back into my mouth.

  My hands wedge between our bodies, traveling up his stomach bulging with muscles to his firm chest. Roughly, I push him away, our lips separating with a loud smack.

  “Wait, stop,” I pant, my mind foggy and discombobulated.

  “What did I say?” he demands sharply. His mismatched eyes capture my gaze in a drug-inducing hold. It’s hard to look away when I feel like I’m looking into the eyes of a predator.

  He is a predator.

  “What?” I breathe, still dizzy from the kiss.

  “If I catch you, I fuck you,” he repeats slowly, gravel lining his throat.

  My mouth opens, but the words are slow to release.

  “You’re not fucking me,” I refuse, pushing against his chest harder.

  His lips whisper across my cheek, trailing along my jawline before dropping down to my neck.

  “Because you’re afraid you’ll like it too much,” he concludes before delivering a sharp nip on my neck. My back arches, goosebumps rising on my skin from the chills. “Because you know that you’ll become as addicted as I am.”

  “No,” I deny in a whisper. “Because I don’t want you to.”

  He lifts his head, a knowing smirk on his lips.

  “So, you’re going to be my bad girl tonight? Lie to my face and act like your pussy isn’t aching to be filled up with my cock.”

  I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, a mix of anger and embarrassment.

  “Not everything has to come down to physical attraction,” I respond finally. “Maybe my body wants you, but up here”—I tap my temple— “doesn’t.”

  He nods his head slowly, his eyes flitting across my face in contemplation. He takes a step back, leaving me bereft and cold.

  It feels like a black shroud encasing the sun on a hot summer d
ay—just a sudden, bone-chilling cold.

  He grabs my hand and pulls me away from the mirror. He spins me until I’m looking at the countless reflections that surround us, echoing our image from every angle.

  I watch him through the mirror. He presses his body back into mine, his warmth soaking into my pores once more. My eyes settle on one mirror, our eyes clashing through the glass.

  Slowly, he bends down until his mouth is right at my ear, his eyes never straying from mine.

  “You want to know why I love the house of mirrors?” he murmurs in my ear, eliciting sparks throughout my nerve endings. His voice is full of dark promises and dangerous beginnings.

  I swallow thickly. “Why?” I whisper.

  “Look around you,” he commands softly. Hesitantly, I pull my eyes away from his, dragging my gaze across the dozens of mirrors.

  “What you’re seeing now is what I see every day. No matter how far I run, how hard I try to escape you—you’re everywhere I go. You’re everything I see. Loving you is like being trapped in a house of mirrors, little mouse. And I’ve never felt so at home while being so lost inside you.”

  My breath hitches, my eyes snapping back to his.

  My heart tripped and fell down a flight of stairs the second the word 'love' came out of his mouth. A word he tossed out so casually, I'm not sure if it's a confession or not.

  "I don't think you know what love is," I whisper.

  He grunts with amusement. "I don't think anyone does, baby. Love is an enigma, and it's redefined every time someone says it."

  I frown. All I can feel is disappointment. Not because of what he said, but because of how fucking easy it was for him to accomplish what he set out to do.

  Just like he wants, a reckless, impulsive feeling consumes me. All I ache to do is let him have me. So many nights, where he’d sneak into my bed and take advantage of my weakness—whether the weakness was in my body or brain—he used that against me time and time again. But he never took it all the way, and every morsel inside my being has been waiting for this moment. Anticipating it.

  I’m dying to deny him, yet I have to fight my body from turning and pulling him into me.