Kill Switch (Devil's Night 3)

His hot breath fell across my fingers, and my whole body warmed. Was he looking at my face, too? Into my eyes? What was he thinking?

“I wish I could see you for real,” I told him. “I want to know what you look like when you look at me.”

He remained silent, and embarrassment burned across my skin. I shook it off, moving on.

“No piercings,” I added. “On your head anyway.”

His upper lip tilted up, and I half-smiled. “And he smirks,” I teased.

Of course, I didn’t need to feel his mischievous smile to know he was a bad boy, but it comforted me to know he had a sense of humor.

“Your neck…” I grazed my fingertips down his smooth skin and throat.

“What about it?”

I leaned in, surprising myself as I pressed my cheek into the skin there. He didn’t move a muscle.

“It’s warm,” I remarked. “Smooth.”

And the house was cold.

I inhaled, smelling his soap and shampoo, far too fragrant to be hours old.

“You just showered,” I guessed.

Pulling up, I took a step closer, holding his head right in front of me and sliding my fingers back into his hair.

“Tall, dark, young,” I commented on what I knew about so far. “Good personal hygiene, likes to fight, long eyelashes, kind of a pretty boy, I’m thinking…”

He snorted, and I smiled, too, but then my fingers grazed something on his scalp but before I could figure out what it was, I felt another one. My face fell, contemplating the raised pieces of skin. As I examined the rest of his scalp, I found several others. All about a quarter inch long.

Scars.

“I fell,” he said again, not waiting for me to ask the question.

I clenched my teeth for a moment. “That’s a lot of falls,” I said. “Do you have those anywhere else?”

“You wanna check the rest of my body?” he asked, sounding cocky.

I dropped my hand, trying not to roll my eyes. Thanks for the offer.

“How old are you?” I asked.

But his guard stayed up when he replied, “Older than you.”

What was he doing here? Really? Was he just a prankster, pulling another joke for Devil’s Night, or did he actually have more sinister intentions when he broke in a week ago, before he saw me dance and got suddenly smitten? What would happen if I refused to dance again? What did he really want?

“What’s one thing you’ll never be able to do but really want to?” he asked.

I nearly laughed. One thing?

“Are you kidding?” I shot back. “I have a whole list.”

“Just tell me one.”

I pondered it for a moment, thinking about how I missed all the things I would never see again. Films, plays, mountains, trees, waterfalls, dresses, shoes, the faces of my family and friends… I didn’t know what it was like to leave the house alone or do simple things like go hiking or for a stroll in the woods by myself. I would never be able to escape, run away, or experience the freedom of a spontaneous getaway all by myself without anyone knowing or being there to h

elp me.