Page 23 of Sincerely, Secretary of Doom

“As if,” Violet said doubtfully as she climbed to her feet. “Who was it then? A sneaky leprechaun?”

He actuallyrolled his eyes. Likeshewas the one being ridiculous.

Violet swallowed when she thought of the redhead guy at the bus shelter. That eerie image of how he’d studied her, the feeling of his coldness, the terrifying smile. She didn’t want to admit to herself it could have been him who’d been in her house.

Like he could read her mind, the Master of Doom marched over and pulled Violet to him by the skirt of her dress, keeping his hands far away from her skin. He leaned in and inhaled by her neck. Something flipped in her abdomen when he tilted his face toward her jaw.

His grunt sounded more like a growl as he drew back. “He’s found you then. Excellent.”

Violet couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm. The Master of Doom’s voice was always so even. He looked her over and went dead still when he glanced at her mouth. The intensity of his lingering stare sent a new wave of flutters through her chest. He seemed like he wanted to ask her a question.

Violet raised her fingers to her lips, afraid she had food on her face. Without thinking, she nudged him back a little at his covered chest. He dropped his fistful of her skirt, questions unasked.

“I think it’s clear we both know who messed with my house then,” she said. “Who is that redheaded weirdo, and why did he come after me?” Her cheeks felt warm, but she didn’t dare reach up to cool them with the backs of her hands. “You’re obviously the only one who can give me answers.” It wasn’t like she had any other reason to come back here.

“He and I have a history,” was all Doom said.

Violet shook her head. “Okay, well good for you. But why did he come afterme?”

“He smelled me on you. You slept in my bed, Human.” He said it likesmelling people on other peoplewas the most normal thing in the world. “My faeborn scent will take at least a month to wear off, and even then, it may never wear off completely. That fool has mistaken you for my lover because of it.”

Violet blinked. “You seem pretty relaxed about that, considering this is all clearly your fault. What am I supposed to do if that creep comes back? He tried to kiss me—Actually, hedidkiss me. It was the worst.”

The guy stole a quick glance at her lips again and Violet got the feeling he’d already figured that out. “Did it burn him?” he asked like he couldn’t stop himself.

“Yeah.”

It was the first time Violet saw the Master of Doom try to suppress a smile.

She looked down at her hands for a second, considering that she’d somehow managed to harm both Doom and the redhead guy with a simple touch. Scientifically, it made no sense. But maybe she was done trying to understand things with science.

“You never answered my question.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “Who is he?Whatis he? And while I’m at it, what are you?” Violet didn’t mean to take a step back when she asked the last one, but for a moment she’d forgotten he’d teleported. She scanned him up and down.

“Heis called many things, but mainly, he’s a deadly creature with nine lives. And I’ve been hunting him. He’s a master of hiding because the shadows are his, and he lives in the air, slipping from place to place on the breath of the wind,” he said.

“That’s poetic,” Violet mumbled.

“And he knows my weaknesses, which is why he’s been beating me thus far. Unfortunately, he has no weaknesses to speak of. Only a wildly powerful advantage.” Doom folded his arms and glanced toward the big wooden cathedral doors that didn’t look nearly strong enough to stop a mythical creature like the redhead she’d met. “Which is why I had to get creative,” he added.

Violet’s brows came together as a thought leaked in. Her scowl returned. “Wait—did you use me as bait?”

The guy lifted his shoulder into a shrug. “A little. Not on purpose. At least, not on purpose at first.” He didn’t look surprised. Or sorry.

Violet’s jaw dropped. “Youwantedme to escape from here?”

“No, you performed that circus act all on your own, Human. I just decided not to bring you back because I knew you were wearing my scent. Therefore, I knew he would follow you. It’s an easy trick I wagered would give me an advantage, and so far, it’s working.”

Violet wanted to smack him. No, she wanted to grab his bare arm and burn him all over his pretty tattoos. She was a dangling worm waiting to be swallowed by a red-haired fish, and this Master of Doom was going to bait the hook himself.

The nerve.

What exactly would happen to her if the redhead came back to finish the job? He’d been to her house. He’d knotted her garden and spread pebbles all over her…

Pebbles.

“Wait.” Violet shook her head, a thought piecing together, slamming into place. “Itishim,” she realized. “He’s the real serial-attacker I’ve been writing articles about.” She said it through a dry voice.

Several of the women with missing memories of the previous day had woken up with their coat pockets full of pebbles. Violet lifted a hand to cover her mouth as it dawned on her like a mallet plunging through her brain. She’d found him—therealculprit. He’d been in her house; the serial attacker she’d been obsessing over for half a year. “Oh my gosh,” she rasped. “He knows what I look like! I’ve written terrible things about him… I challenged him to come find me on the news!” she shouted. “He’s going to kill me!”

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