Page 12 of His to Fear
How did I even allow myself to lose her?
The rustling becomes even louder, and I dare not breathe as I listen for a few, slowed seconds for something else to reveal itself.
A figure gradually emerges from the shadows. First, only a pair of glowing eyes, illuminated by the little moonlight, and then his whole body as it becomes visible. Swallowing what feels like molten lava, I take a tentative step backward.
He keeps walking, and when the clouds covering the moon hide him for a short beat, the fear wracks over every inch of available skin.
Then, he’s right in front of me. Towering over me by a foot, he’s dressed in a flannel shirt clinging to his muscular upper chest. The fabric stretches where his shoulders bunch, and I can’t really see much more than that. A hood obscures his face.
My eyesight is directly at his upper chest, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him.
Something woodsy clings to him, which isn’t odd considering our environment, but underneath that, I can feel the undertones of the cologne he wears. Sandalwood mixed with mint.
My stomach clenches in fear and apprehension, but there’s an underlying excitement hiding in the corner of my soul. Because I recognize this man, even without seeing his face.
“The stranger,” I breathe out.
My mouth goes dry with the realization and confusion flitting over me. The man I saw in the line for the circus. Is he one of the people milling around, trying to find his way out?
But he has the height of the man at the circus. The onewearing the porcelain mask. The man who made me feel something other than anger and grief—my standard emotions for the past few months. Hell, even years.
My eyebrows draw together.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with your friends?” he murmurs, stepping even closer.
“Aren’t you?” I retort. “Either that, or be a scare-actor in the circus. Which is it?”
A chuckle escapes him, but he doesn’t stop coming closer to me. It’s all intimidating. “You catch up quick.”
He doesn’t offer any explanation. “So you’re a scare-actor? Or a fairgoer?”
“Working. Entertainment. It’s all the same, isn’t it?”
I shake my head, not understanding him or his cryptic demeanor. He must be a scare-actor, merely hanging out with his friends before the start of his shift. But why is he here now?
“Have you not been taught it’s dangerous to be out alone in the woods?” he whispers, a dark timbre in his voice that reverberates through me.
I swallow harshly, pushing away the sensation. Because the only thing I should feel right now is fear, and a self-preservation instinct to run away. I don’t have the slightest clue who this mysterious man is, especially not if he’s playing some sort of middle-game, playing both sides.
“Are you perhaps lost, little fangs?”
Through the hood, I can see the smirk splitting his lips. Feel his eyes on my mouth, where I’d forgotten I had fake fangs in.
I instantly close my mouth, scowling at him.
The man takes a step closer to me, and I take one backward. Moonlight glints off his frame, forming a glowing silhouette around him.
“Hmm,” he groans. “What should I do with you?”
That’s when I see he’s holding something. An object that glintsin the moonlight. He brings it upward, inspecting it closely, the slight tilt of his head giving him away.
It’s an axe.
And suddenly, I realize that this is the man the farmer was so terrified of. Was it real, or an act?
I fucking hope it was an act.
Gulping, I take another step backward when I see him approaching me. His sandalwood scent mixed with the earthy tinges of the forest envelops me in a cocoon until that’s all I can feel and focus on.
