Keep Me Safe (Slow Burn #1)(7)

Slowly she slipped her hand over the knob of the door to her hotel room but was careful to make no sound or to insert the key into the lock so she wouldn’t alert anyone to her presence. She yanked her hand back as though she’d been burned. The sudden flood of evil, hatred and the mocking laugh of her tormenter made her unsteady on her feet. Her knees buckled and she turned desperately, prepared to flee when the door flew open and something dark and ominous grabbed her wrist, hauling her back even as she tried to run.

She struck out violently, fighting back, knowing that if he managed to get her into the room she’d be dead—if she were that fortunate. Because she knew her death wouldn’t be easy, nor would it be quick. She’d seen inside his mind. Knew how he thought. All the sick, twisted fantasies he’d lived out through his victims, and hers would be the worst of all. She opened her mouth to scream, but he clamped his free hand over her lips in one bruising motion.

She sank her teeth into bitter-tasting, dirty flesh and was rewarded with instant withdrawal and a yelp of pain.

“You little bitch,” he growled in a demonic, fury-laced voice that sent chills cascading down her spine. “You’ll pay for that.”

She turned, facing evil for the first time outside of her mind, and thrust her knee into his groin. He backhanded her in defense and her face exploded in pain. But he loosened his hold just enough that she could wrench her wrist free of his grasp. She took full advantage of her momentary respite, knowing she might not get another.

She didn’t bother going for her vehicle. There was no way she’d be able to get in and drive away before he recaptured her.

So she ran.

Leaving everything she possessed behind, she sprinted toward the main avenue, her aching body protesting the overexertion.

She could hear him behind her, could almost feel his breath on her neck. Worse was the oppressive weight of his presence in her consciousness, spewing vile promises of retribution. She’d seen her long, painful death in his mind, knew it for the truth it was. That he would be relentless until he’d achieved his ultimate glory. Removing her existence.

It gave her the much-needed boost to run faster.

Warm blood trickled down her chin, quickly drying in the wind as she put more distance between her and her pursuer.

Where would she go? What would she do? She had nothing to her name, her purse and what little cash she had left behind.

A sob escaped her as she pushed herself even further. She was at her limit. Her reserves had dwindled down to nothing—she had nothing. She’d known that she’d have to stop in the next town. Take the horrible risk that he’d finally catch up to her because she had to stay somewhere long enough to get a job to build her cash back up. So she could run again. But by doing so she risked exactly what had just happened.

Discovery.

Chancing a glimpse over her shoulder, she saw that her attacker had given up. No, that wasn’t right. He wouldn’t ever simply give up. All he’d do is fall back, give her a false sense of security and then strike again when she least expected it. He had an uncanny knack for trailing her, which left her to wonder if he had psychic ability of his own. How else would he be able to anticipate her next move? Had he lived as a shadow in her mind since that horrible day she’d connected to him through his last victim? Had she somehow forged a connection with the very face of evil? God only knew that she hadn’t been able to shake him from her dreams, from her every waking moment. Her only reprieve—though short—had been when Caleb Devereaux had shoved his sister’s scarf into her hands so many months ago and for a few brief moments she’d experienced something other than the man who stalked her. She’d traded one hell for another.

That awful day on a Colorado mountain had finally done what no one else had succeeded in doing. It had broken her. Though each time she’d used her abilities to track monsters had helped break her slowly over time, that had been her tipping point. Maybe she’d never heal. Some wounds cut too deep. Too much, too soon after her brush with blood and death from before. She’d felt something truly disconnect inside her when she’d been hurled into Tori Devereaux’s mind, gone through every horror the other young woman had experienced.

Maybe it had simply been the last straw. Whatever the case, after Caleb Devereaux had left her to go find and help his younger sister, Ramie had never been the same. Maybe she never would be.

Would death be so bad? It felt to her as if she’d died each and every time she’d slid into the mind of a helpless victim. Most people only faced death once. She’d faced it repeatedly. Maybe in death, she would finally find peace. Except that she refused to allow the man hunting her victory. He would be unstoppable. Promoted to God in his sick and twisted mind. As long as he was focused on her then at least other women would be safe from his sadistic pleasures. That was reason enough to continue fighting.

It was reason enough to survive.

She halted, her legs refusing to take her another step. A gas station loomed in front of her and she bent over, heaving for breath. Tears burned her eyes as a sense of fatalism enveloped her. It didn’t matter that she refused to let the bastard win.

There was nowhere for her to go. No place for her to turn. No safe harbor.

Caleb Devereaux’s face flickered in her mind, his parting words to her floating back to haunt her. The genuine regret in his eyes when he realized the consequences of what he’d forced her to endure.