Eye Candy

“I think so, yeah.”

“Okay.” Heather said so, and so it was good. I went back to sleeping.

*

A hand shook me awake. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

I felt sluggish. My body felt weighed down, even my eyes. I didn’t want to look at whoever it was.

“Hey. Our ride is here. We have to go.”

“No.” I snuggled closer to Mason’s hard chest. It felt more rigid than normal. “I’m good here.”

A man laughed, in a soothing voice. “I’ll carry her. It’s no problem.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah. She’s family. It’s no problem.”

Wait. That didn’t make sense. I tried lifting my head—my neck screamed in pain. It was stiff, but I looked. Yes, that was Logan. I recognized the voice, but who was he talking to? He was bending down over my side of the booth. No one else was there, but that voice—who was that? I looked as Logan pulled me over and scooped an arm under me.

“Hey.” I frowned, but looped an arm around his shoulders.

He lifted me up, cradling me against his chest.

I tried to look. “Who was that?”

“Who?”

“That person you were talking to.” The bar was empty. All the chairs were turned over on the tables. The only light on was by the door, and a staff member was holding it open for us. But . . . Logan had been talking to someone. The staff person was too far away for it to be them.

“I wasn’t talking to anyone, Sam.”

No. He had been. I knew he had been.

“You’re drunk and tired, and by the time we get home, I’m pretty sure Mason will be there.”

Mason—a thrill went through me. I started to wake up a little bit more, and as he went through the door, he had to turn sideways. I looked over to where I’d been sitting, and . . . there! I saw the swish of a black robe. Someone was there! I started to sit up, but Logan protested. His hand came to my head. “No. Don’t sit up. You’ll crack your head.”

“Over there.” I craned my neck to see, but we were through the door.

I couldn’t see anymore, but there had been someone. Why didn’t Logan remember talking to him? That didn’t make sense. I yawned, unable to fight it, and my eyelids kept drooping. Logan deposited me next to Heather, who was already curled into a ball on the seat. Taylor tried to give me a smile from the front, but she was too tired too. She closed her eyes, and I could already hear Courtney and Grace snoring in the back.

“Logan.” I stopped him as he was stepping back, reaching to close my door.

“What?”

“You were talking to someone in there. Who?”

He shook his head again, a slight frown marring his face. “I wasn’t, Sam. I thanked the staff guy for holding the door for me, but that was it. There was no one else.”

“But . . .” There had been. “A black robe. Or something black.”

A chilling image of the black robe and white mask from the first nightclub flashed in my head. No. I wouldn’t let myself imagine that it was him. That made even less sense. “Mason’s coming tonight?”

He nodded. “He doesn’t have that meeting tomorrow in LA that he thought he had.”

Mason.

He was coming home.

He’d be there, or would be soon after we got there.

The black robe had nothing on Mason.

I fell back asleep, dreaming of my soulmate. It was his hands that woke me, that picked me up from the SUV. I recognized those hands. I’d recognize them if I was dead to the world, but I opened my eyes and gave him the biggest, stupidest smile of the whole night, and there’d been a bunch to compete against.

“Hey.”

There he was, looking back down at me. I reached up to touch him and he caught my fingers in his mouth. He grinned, his tongue sweeping out to lick them before he released me. “Hey yourself.”

I tucked my head further against his chest, content to gaze up at him. “I got really drunk tonight.”

“Sounds like you had a good night.”

“I heard you had a good night too.”

“Not as good as your night.” He went in the house, then down the hallway to our room. I felt like I was still dreaming. I was in a haze, and slowly he lowered me to the bed. He helped me get under the covers. “I could get undressed.”

He shook his head. “Trust me. I’ll be doing that in a moment.”

He stripped off his shirt, his muscles shifting and bulging as he tossed it to the side, and came to bed only in his sweatpants. They dipped low on his hips, right underneath the V from his muscles, and I was already itching to push them the rest of the way off.

The bed dipped under his weight, and I rolled onto my back. Grinning, I looped my hands around his head as he knelt over me. I was cursing the bedcovers between us, and the rest of the space between my body and his. I ran my hands down his arms, feeling how strong they were. “I love you.”

He smiled back down at me, his eyes darkening, softening. “I love you too.”

It’d been three weeks since I had seen him last. Three weeks since I’d had enough time in my running schedule to fly out and see him. Three weeks since I’d touched him, tasted him, felt his body next to mine.

I kicked at the covers, pulling them down. Then I was right there, in my dark hooker getup. My breasts were straining against my dress. I knew my nipples were hard. The throbbing was there, and it was building as his eyes roamed up and down, lingering on my breasts.

He murmured, “A witch?”

“A hooker. I was the darkness to Heather’s light.”

He chuckled but bent down, and I closed my eyes. I felt his lips on my neck, and oh dear God, he could suckle like no one else. I squirmed, wanting those lips farther down. I wanted them on my breasts, on my stomach, between me and then in me. But I wanted them on my lips too, and I let out a soft breath as he moved up, grazing my neck, my jaw, and then lingering just above my lips.

“You’re killing me.” I was panting.

“Maybe that’s the intent?”

I opened my eyes. That didn’t sound like Mason? And then it wasn’t—the white mask was hovering over me. The man in the black robe was there, and he had a knife in his hands.

I screamed and kicked out.

“Sam? SAM!”

I tried to kick free and get off the bed, but he slammed me back down. “SAM! Stop!”

Wait . . . that voice . . . My head whipped back to his, and my body sagged in relief. It was Mason. “Oh thank God,” I sobbed, wrapping my arms around his neck. He rested on me, letting his full weight down gently, and then shifted to the side. He pulled me back against him, and he held me. A hand smoothed down my hair. “What’s wrong? What just happened there?”

I shook my head. I tasted the salt from my tears. “I’ve been seeing this guy. He’s in a black robe and he’s wearing a mask. He’s evil, Mason.” I trembled. “Evil. I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

His hand shook as he asked, “Did someone drug you?”