Page 11 of Howl for Me
He’s already close. Too close.
“Stay the fuck away from me or I’ll use this!”
Johnny freezes, one hand flying to his chest. His eyes flash gold again, just like before.
“Don’t,” he says, voice low and strained.
I back up a step, still pointing the spray at him. “I will if you come any closer.”
His chest rises and falls, and he rubs his nose like he’s trying to scrub something out of it. “Your smell—just… don’t fucking run.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I snap.
I glance down at myself. I don’t smell anything. Okay, yeah, maybe I should’ve showered this morning, but it’s not that bad.
“My smell?” I scoff. “Gods, you’re an asshole.”
He moves toward me again, slow this time, careful, and I raise the spray higher.
“I mean it. Leave me the hell alone.”
He growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through the air. “Trust me, doll. I can be a lot worse if you run. Your scent is choking me. Your fear, its thick and strong, and if you run again, I won’t be able to stop myself from chasing you. And if I catch you…”
He cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to snap out of a trance. His golden eyes stay locked on me.
“Just calm down,” he says. “Let me talk to you.”
One more step and he’ll be close enough. Close enough for me to spray him and bolt.
He takes that step.
I press the button.
Except… instead of him screaming and clutching his face, it’s me who goes blind.
I sprayed myself right in the fucking face.
“GOD DAMN IT!”
It burns. Oh hell, it burns.
I drop the canister and clutch at my eyes, blinking against the fire spreading across my face.
“Oh shit,” Johnny mutters, and then I hear it; his shocked little chuckle. The asshole’s laughing.
“I hate you,” I manage to grind out through clenched teeth, stumbling backward with one eye squeezed shut, the other tearing up like it’s mourning my dignity.
“Yeah?” he drawls, stopping just shy of my reach. “Could have guessed that, what with the chemical warfare and all.”
“Don’t come near me,” I snap, holding my arm out while trying not to panic.
I can barely make out his blurry form as he raises his hands in a mock innocent gesture, “Hey, I’m not the one who sprayed myself in the face. That was all you, sweetheart.”
“Call me that again and I’ll—”
“Blindly flail? Try to run into traffic?” He clicks his tongue. “You’re a mess. Come on. Let’s rinse your face before you lose your vision and what little pride you’ve got left.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snap, even as the world blurs and my knees start to shake.
