Page 16 of Soul to Possess

Something in his voice changed. Steel behind the velvet. I didn’t dare test it.

“Marvin is…” My voice wavered. “Was. I don’t know. He was supposed to be my… mail-order husband.”

Silence. Then a deep, masculine laugh rumbled through the room like thunder. “Mail-order husband?” he repeated, amused. “The fuck is that?” Heat rushed to my face. I felt it blooming across my cheeks, crawling into my scalp. He was enjoying this—my humiliation. Watching me squirm.

“There was this ad,” I said, forcing the words out, small and sheepish. “I live alone. My family is… gone. All of them.” The ache slipped into my voice before I could stop it. “And I was just—tired. Tired of being alone.”

His expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes. His jaw twitched once.

“I found this newspaper ad.There was a post.” He grunted. Not a laugh. Just a sound. I risked a glance at him. His eyes were locked on me, unblinking. Green, sharp, cutting. His whole body was still—too still. Only a small twitch near his eye told me he was even breathing.

“And?” he asked, one brow lifting.

I swallowed hard.

“I kind of… answered it.”

“So basically,” he said, leaning back with that same predatory calm, “some desperate shithole posted a Hail Mary in some newspaper back east, and your lonely, naïve little self actually responded?” The words hit like a slap. Not loud, not cruel exactly, but precise. Dismissing me like I was stupid. Like I was a child fumbling with adult tools.

“You don’t understand,” I snapped, the heat in my voice surprising even me. “You haveno ideawhat it’s like.”

“I’m not trying to understand,” he said, gaze hard as flint. “I’m telling you—it was reckless. Foolish. No matter how you try to dress it up. What if the man was a killer?”

That word landed like a gunshot. My pulse jumped. I stared at him, searching for something—sarcasm, amusement,anythinghuman—but his expression didn’t change. It was flat. Implacable.

“I…” My throat tightened. “Ididthink of that. But it felt worth the risk.” A beat. “Ithink.”

“Oh, itfeltworth it?” His voice dropped a register—low, dark, deliberate.

My breath caught. The air shifted. Heavy and strange. It pressed in around me, thicker than the warmth from the fire. My heart thudded faster. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Nothing. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’tmove. The walk through the snow, the gnawing cold, the fatigue—it all vanished beneath the sudden weight of fear. He didn’t lunge. Didn’t shout. He didn’t have to. There was something buried just beneath his skin—something sharp and coiled and ancient—that made my body want to run, even as my feet stayed rooted in place.

“Scared, little girl?” he asked, voice softer now. Almost kind. I shouldn’t have responded. IknewI shouldn’t. But my head dipped in the smallest nod. He smiled.

“You should be.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a fact. And somehow, that made it worse.

His lips curled into a smile—teeth white, even, deliberate. His eyes sparkled with a glint that didn’t feel entirely sane.

“I promise,” he said, voice silky, “no matter how badly I might want to, I won’t harm you. You’re far too beautiful. Too delicate. Wasting you on something as superficial as art would be a sin.” He tilted his head slightly, as if admiring her. “Art lasts forever, sure—but a woman like you? You’d last a lifetime.”

My stomach turned.Art? What the hell was he talking about? Last a lifetime? Was this poetic or psychotic? I couldn’t tell. His tone didn’t shift enough to offer clues. Was he high? Delirious? Or just—wrongin that deep, bone-deep way?

“Do you… have a room I can sleep in?” I asked, carefully. Maybe it would have a lock. Maybe I could buy myself a few hours of distance. Something. Anything. A chuckle answered me. It rolled low from his chest—warm, pleasant even. And completely out of place.

“Of course, little girl. Come along.”

He stood, muscles in his back flexing as he moved. Strong. Built like someone who didn’t need to raise his voice to be obeyed. If he decided to hurt me, there wouldn’t be anything I could do. He was bigger, faster, practiced. I could feel it in the way he moved—controlled, confident. Like a predator that never needed to rush the kill. Whatever was wrong here, it wasn’t something I could touch. This wasn’t a situation I could outmuscle or outlogic. He led me down a short hallway. At the far end, three doors stood closed.

“That one on the left’s yours,” he said, gesturing. “Middle’s your bathroom. I’m on the right—my bath’s separate. No outside access.” He turned to go. “Make yourself at home. I’ll grab your suitcases.”

Suitcases. I blinked, glancing back toward the front room. In all the chaos, I hadn’t even thought to grab them. Andnowhewould be the one touching my things.Don’t be stupid, Gennie. Whatever this is, it’s not contagious.Right. Of course not.

I grabbed my luggage the second he set it down. Nearly tripping over myself, I rushed into the room and slammed the door shut behind me. My fingers scrambled for the lock. Click. I tested the handle. Locked. Solid. I shoved against the door just to be sure, and it didn’t budge. Only then did I breathe—just a little.

Setting my bags in the corner, I looked around. The curtains were open. A single lamp in the corner gave off a soft, amber glow, casting shadows across the wooden walls. Snowflakes smacked against the glass, bright white against the black outside.

Jesus. My chest still heaved, heart punching at my ribs. I tried to calm down, to catch up with my own thoughts. Everything that could’ve gone wrong… had. How the hell had I ended up here? Alone, in the middle of nowhere, with a man whose name I didn’t even know? He’d asked how I knew Marvin wasn’t a killer. But how did I knowhewasn’t?

A house in the middle of nowhere. No neighbors. No barn. No animals. Just silence and shadows. And that smile—too calm. That comment aboutartstill echoed in the back of my head. Too late to take anything back. The bed was made up with a thick, old-fashioned quilt. It reminded me of the Amish communities a few hours from where I’d grown up back east. Worn fabric, muted tones. It looked handmade. For a second, a ghost of a smile pulled at my lips. As much as I hated that place, there were still a few memories I didn’t resent. A few soft ones.

---