He walks right up to me, towering above my shorter frame. His scent envelops me—woodsy and expensive. The boy—who smells like a man and looks like the devil—invades my space. I’m forced to look up at him, wondering if he’ll stab me right here. Right now. In front of hundreds of people. Is this how they do it? Some sort of Halloween murder club where all the townsfolk are in on it? I glower up at him, waiting to learn the unspoken rules, because apparently I came to play.
His head cocks to the side as he studies me. “You’re lost.”
My heart rate sputters to life at his gruff words. Not quite angry, but not at all pleased.
“I’m not lost. I found what I was hunting for.”
2
The Hunter
White Rabbit.
White. Fucking. Rabbit.
Why in the hell is she here? I snap my head to the side, looking for my best friend Blane. He stands there, tense as fuck, but not saying a word. Blane knows the rules.
Hope Eastland is not allowed at my house.
Not ever.
Yet, she’s here.
Which means his ass didn’t do his job. I should have been clued in. Fucking warned. I sure as hell didn’t expect to see her standing by the punch looking like a goddamn snack, tempting the devilish desires inside me.
Hope is off limits.
Un-fucking-invited.
Not allowed to step foot into my home.
Fury swells up inside me and I curl my hands into fists. I crave to beat the shit out of Blane. To make him pay for this horrible mishap. Instead, I turn my wrath back on her. It must hit her like the heat of the sun because she gasps, parting her pale pink lips and taking a step backward. Her ass hits the drawer behind her, trapping her. Too easy.
I step right into her space, my leg between her parted ones and let my anger drench her. Her breathing comes out quick and panicked but she’s caught. Just like she wanted. I want to yank the stupid white bunny ears off her head and yell at her.
White Rabbit.
Now she mocks me. Throws my nickname back in my face. Encroaches on my territory. She’s dressed in a white leotard that blends with her skin, white leggings, and white ballet slippers. Her icy blond hair hangs down in translucent curtains in front of each shoulder, bringing focus to her pert tits. Hard nipples poke through the spandex material, begging for my attention.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Rather than stare at her tits—tits I wonder if are adorned with pink budded nipples that match her pouty mouth—I let my gaze rake over her gray, penciled in whiskers on her cheeks.
“What are you doing?” I demand, my voice low, barely heard over the hum of the party.
Her chin lifts and her navy-blue eyes flash. “I came to see what the fuss was all about.”
“You weren’t invited.”
She fucking shrugs. Bold. So bold.
“Why, White Rabbit, do you want to come to my party? Haven’t you been warned?” Because I can’t help myself, I reach up and grip her throat. Gently. A threat laced in with the stroke of my thumb along her throbbing pulse.
“You hate me anyway, so what have I got to lose, Sharpe?”
I tense at the last name—my real one—thrown so freely for any-fucking-one to hear. Blane knows, so he’s cool, but no one else does. My hand tightens around her throat and I lean forward. She smells like candy corn. Not carrots. Not hate. Fucking sweet.
I love candy corn.
“Blane,” I say over my shoulder. “Plans have changed.”
“Yeah?”
“White Rabbit wants in on the hunt.” I smirk at her.
She presses her white, freaky as fuck hand against my chest and pushes. Rising on her toes, she brings her face close to mine where I can scent that sweet candy corn smell again. I lick my lips.
“Don’t misunderstand,” she says, her voice a throaty purr that makes my dick twitch. “I don’t want to be hunted. I want to hunt.”
Little pale freak wants to get bloody.
Interesting.
I’m calling her fucking bluff.
“Land…” Blane sounds unsure behind me. Confused as hell. This wasn’t the plan. Deanna was the plan. My blood boils just thinking about her. The way she made out with me this afternoon just hours after telling everyone in the goddamn school my mother was a schizophrenic. Deanna is the biggest gossiper at our school and I’m tired of her running her mouth about my family.
“The plan is still on,” I say, shocking the hell out of the both of us. “A new hunter joins the pack.”
Hope swallows, her navy eyes widening. “You’re going to let me hunt?”
“For one, you know apparently everything, so it’s either hunt or be hunted for you, White Rabbit.” I let my gaze rake down her skintight leotard. “And as much as I’m enjoying this view, you can’t hunt in this.”
“I have clothes in the car. And my purse.”