Bloodshed (Order of the Unseen, #1)(30)

“Are you?” I ask, dropping my gaze. “Is that why your dick is hard right now?”

He rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Whatever.” I dryly laugh, striding toward the back door. “I’m all set.”

“Micah,” he loudly calls out.

“Bite me, Jensen. I’m done with your fucking mind games—”

Gripping my shoulder, he spins me around and tosses me backward, slamming my back against the mossy, vinyl siding of the house. Curving his fingers around my throat, he leans in, his lips mere inches from mine.

“You’re upset,” he observes, brushing the loose strands of hair out of my face.

I clench my jaw tight. “I’m fine.”

“What do you want from me, Micah?”

What do I want?

I’ve been crushing on this kid since the day I fucking met him. We grew up together. He always had my back. He’s the only one who has ever truly seen me.

But instead of telling him this, I shake my head with unease.

“Nothing,” I grimly answer, staring him straight in the eyes. “I don’t want shit from you. I’m good.”

And I push him away, before looking over his shoulder and getting a glimpse of several dark figures watching us from the distance.

But it’s the faint outline of their crow masks that send me into attack mode.

My face hardens as I begin to stride toward them.

Jensen grabs my shoulder, yanking me to a halt. “It’s not them,” he races out, shaking me back into reality. “It can’t be. They’ve been gone for years. If they came back to Salem… we would know.”

My heart hammers, and I’ve never felt more on edge. A cold gust of air caresses my skin, and a shiver shoots down my spine. Something just doesn’t feel right.

I can’t put my finger on it.

But I can feel it deep in my bones.

They disappear into the shadows without warning.

Releasing a sharp breath, I shake the thoughts from my head.

He’s right. If it were them, we would know.

“Let’s go, man,” Jensen says, placing his hand on my shoulder, easing all the built-up tension in my body.

And I pull on my Halloween mask, following behind him.

Not tonight, Satan.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





QUINN





Music erupts from the speakers, vibrations flowing through the bodies in motion. The flashing strobe lights and smoke creeping its way up from the floor create a seductive ambiance, the living room being the most crowded area of the party. Black and orange balloons blanket the ceiling, a giant hanging spider decoration draped over our heads.

The energy and atmosphere are intense, and everyone seems to be having the time of their lives. And for once, I’m finally living, and having the time of mine.

I’ve never been one to let loose. I’ve always lived my life in a bubble, keeping myself distanced from everyone. I guess it’s safe to say that has always been my coping skill.

That’s how I’ve learned to protect myself, since nobody else ever has. Yet, tonight, I’m finally letting go, embracing the endless possibilities.

Swaying my hips and dancing to the beat, I sing along to the lyrics. Stretching out my arms above my head, and moving to the rhythm, the Halloween punch and Jell-O shot from earlier begin to creep up on me.

The Monster Mash begins to play, and everyone feels the vibe. Allowing my eyes to scan the room, I finally spot my three protectors leaning against the wall. Their attention is set on me, and only me, as they silently observe my every move.

Grazing my hands over my body, I start at my chest, slowly trailing down my abdomen, hips, and thighs. Seductively staring in their direction, not having a single care in the world.

Jason and Michael’s backs are pressed to the wall, arms folded over their chest. Ghost’s posture stiffens, his arms dropping to the sides as his hands ball into tight fists.

Confusion strikes me until I feel a light tap on my shoulder.

Turning around, I take in the sight of a guy dressed in black pants and a white T-shirt smeared with fake blood.

He smiles, dancing his way closer to me. “Loving the costume,” he says over the music.

“Thanks,” I reply, swaying my hips to the beat. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to be, though—”

He unexpectedly grabs onto my waist, pulling me close. “You’re hot as hell.”

“Thanks,” I uneasily reply, pulling away.

He tightly grabs my wrist, bringing me back to him, and locks me in place. “Where you going?”

“You’re hurting me,” I stammer.

Ghost appears, stepping between us. “Get your fucking hands off her.”

“Or, what?”

He lifts his knife and spins it between his fingers. “Or I’ll gut you like a fish,” he coldly remarks.

My heart immediately sinks.

“Ghost,” I try to say, but there’s barely any sound to my voice.

Finally, he releases me, only to get right in Ghost’s face. “Let her decide who she wants,” he snaps back. “She’s not your bitch.”

Without warning, Ghost shoves him hard enough to send him flying backward. The moment his back collides with the wall, he lifts his hands above his head in defeat.