Page 22 of Fright Night
Kneeling between my legs.
Holding a knife to my chest.
Slashing my clothing.
About to see my breasts.
If this isn’t Knox, it’s a stranger who’s broken into my house in the middle of the night
Oh god.
If this isn’t Knox, then who the fuck is he?
Just as terror clamps hold and I contemplate the possibilities of winning a physical fight, considering the ropes, the blade is tossed to the side. The body above me shakes with laughter and he slides that mask up to the top of his head.
Knox is laughing while I’m still trying to calm my racing heart. His amusement is an obnoxious noise from a mouth belonging to a fallen angel. Beauty and sin competing in one body.
He reaches forward to cut through the ropes, his thumbs sweeping over the marks they’ve made, causing me to wonder when exactly he did all this and how long I’ve been tied up.
Once freed, I immediately bring my legs close and swing to the side, getting off the bed and towards safety, over by the window.
His eyes, now uncovered, track where my shirt’s hem hangs just past my hip, making me wish once again I opted for pants.
“You’re an asshole. What thehellis wrong with you?”
“You should have seen your face. Might be the best part of tonight. So far, anyway.” He flips until he’s seated on the edge of the bed, his legs spreading lazily as hands prop him up. “Wanted to see how far I could take you.”
“What does that mean?”
He stands so abruptly, my back slams against the window pane. Suddenly, he’s right there—looming above me, trapping me against the wall. I shove into him for space, knowing full well his strength will win over mine.
He strokes a finger down my cheek. My eyes flutter shut, waiting for my stomach to knot with the familiar feeling of distaste that accompanies anything Knox does.
Any second now it’ll happen.
Instead, something else clusters in my stomach. Something that makes my arms feel weak. Something that speaks to the unwise, dangerous crush I once had on my stepbrother. The same kind of feeling flowing through me when he was holding the knife moments ago.
“Hm.” His deep rumble cuts through my wandering and unwelcome thoughts. Probably good. Fantasizing about the crazy stepbrother doesn’t say solid and well thought out plan.
“Hm, what?”
“You ask a lot of questions. That’s new.”
“What do you mean, new?”
His eyes sparkle in the light it somehow finds. “Exactly. You used to be a lot…quieter. Scared of me.”
My feet shift over the hardwood, which chills my toes. “Time changes shit. You should know best.”
“Never said it was a bad thing. Fuck, it makes me happy. Proud. Be loud. I crave it.” His words cause my fingers to curl, my brain finding hidden meanings in them. “No, I was thinking about how…enticed you are when nervous.”
My heart thumps so loudly, I’d be positive he could hear it. I need to deny his claim, so he doesn’t know the truth.
“See? You can’t even lie to yourself.” Harsh laughter fills the room. “Because I’m right.”
“No, uh…”Way to formulate an argument.
“It’s nothing to be upset about, Trickster. It’s normal. Fear makes hearts race, blood pound, buthowa person reacts to that is different for everyone. Some people run away. Others…”
