Page 11 of A Very Killer Christmas
He looks at me for a long while, his eyes serious and assessing. I fidget, feeling trapped by that penetrating gaze. I can’t look away.
“You have a very pretty name, Prudence.” His mouth tips in a small smile. “Even if it doesn’t describe you well. I’m Rowley.”
I nod, my lips pursed. I’m afraid I’ll blab out another stream of personal mess, so I don’t say anything.
“So, your grandpa raised you? I’m sorry he passed away.”
I wave my hand, trying to look flippant, even as my teeth chatter from the cold. This conversation needs to end.
“Ah, you know. He was old and sick. He also missed my grandma. She’d passed away two years before him. So, uh. The heating. And decorations.”
I try to pass him in the narrow hallway, but he catches my upper arm, forcing me to stop.
“Thank you, Prudence.” His voice is solemn, eyes dark with something heavy and unspoken. “I won’t forget it. You just earned my loyalty for life.”
My throat threatens to close up. God, what’s happening? I can’t make friends with murderers. And I can’t get all teary because one just offered me his undying loyalty.
No one haseversaid anything like that to me.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to actually talk to a killer.” My voice is light, just the faintest break betraying my turmoil. But I need to shift his attention away from myself. “So you can repay me by answering some questions if that’s all right.”
I head over to the old thermostat and turn up the heat. Rowley follows me, and I am acutely aware of his presence. A shiver runs down my back when I remember how it felt when he hugged me. It was like being lost, then found.
“I’ll answer what I can,” he says, and I grin, turning around.
“Awesome! Hey, do you want eggnog? I made some but didn’t drink any in the end. My grandpa’s recipe. It’s the best.”
And that’s how I end up inviting a killer to have a glass of eggnog with me on Christmas Eve.
Chapter 5
Rowley
I will marry her.
The thought buzzes in my head like a mosquito, growing more and more insistent as I follow Prudence into the tiny, old-fashioned kitchen. She turns on the lights, revealing all the details that were hidden before, but I can’t pull my eyes away long enough to actually see the house.
All I see is her.
This girl is odd and also the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. Her hair is dark and messy, neither straight nor curly, but it has a nice shine. It’s also long enough to wrap around my fist, which wasn’t a factor just ten minutes before, but seems very important to note right now.
Her physique seems slight, though it’s hard to tell when it’s hidden under the long, baggy hoodie that ends around her thighs. Her legs clad in bright pink leggings are slim, and on her feet, she wears a pair of very fuzzy, purple socks. No slippers.
She’s adorable, and yet, I’m painfully aware I would have never given her the time of day if she hadn’t just saved my life.
Her face is heart-shaped and delicate, with small features and big, serious eyes. She’s akin to a pixie, a girl who’s only halfway here and halfway in some other secret world. I’ve never been drawn to girls like her, girls who hide in fictional worlds and confront the real one with wariness in their eyes. I barely noticed them, truth be told, and when I did, it was to dismiss them right away.
My type is sexy, confident, firmly rooted in her body. A woman who lives fully and looks at men boldly.
Except, a type is just that. It’s shallow and not that important. In the end, all that matters is that this woman right here knows what I am, and she doesn’t recoil. It trumps all else.
The more I look at her, the more I like her, too. I adore the way her mouth keeps moving nervously. She fidgets a lot, like a scared little rabbit cowering in her cage.
For a brief, misguided moment, I imagine what it would feel like to pin her under my weight and just make herbe still.She would still be nervous, still scared, but only her big eyes and that small, fidgeting mouth would reveal it.
Fuck. No. Stop thinking about it.
And yet, I can’t help it. The danger is over, at least for now. I expected to die or be taken, but I survived, and my body revels in it. I’m alive. I’m free. And here is a woman who saved my life, and I…
