Darkness Deceives - Katie May Page 0,1

boyfriend—errr—to you.”

Yeah. No.

Did not need that visual running rampant through my head.

Cue—vomit. Lots and lots of vomit.

“Sheath it before you reap it!” Aggie calls helpfully. “Make sure that he pulls it all the way out. And don’t sit on his face for too long. You might accidentally suffocate him.”

“Speaking from experience?” Layla asks dryly.

Aggie nods solemnly. “The longest he lasted was two minutes and thirteen seconds. I think I need Aquaman to handle me. He can hold his breath forever.”

What. The. Fuck?

“Kinky bitch,” I murmur, stepping out of the room and shutting the door.

Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for what I have to do. What I’m going to tell him.

My stomach is a tumultuous mixture of dread and excitement.

In only a few minutes, I’ll be confessing my feelings to the love of my life. And hopefully, he’ll confess it back.

The night is alarmingly cold. In the Afterlife, there’s usually only one type of weather—warm with a light wind.

Tonight, that wind chills me to the very bone and whips my hair around my face. There are no stars in the sky, and the moon is the size of a clipped fingernail. I stumble down the winding pathway bogged down with weeds, some trampled but others growing strong. I curse Layla and my choice of clothing. It does very little to quell the cold.

Knowing Aggie, she’ll make a comment about my kahoot needing a nice breeze. Probably say it’ll add stimulation.

I quicken my pace, following the familiar trail.

After a moment, the tree house comes into view.

He doesn’t know for certain where these various tree houses came from, erected around campus, but he claimed this one as his own.

Steeling myself, I climb up the rickety ladder—eternally grateful there’s no one behind me to look up my skirt—before tentatively opening the trap door under it.

“Hello?” I whisper, feeling suddenly shy. It’s an emotion I’m unfamiliar with.

But here I am, putting myself on the line. Confessing feelings, saying words I have never told anyone before. I don’t even know where to begin.

A part of me wishes I had planned this better, written a soliloquy, perhaps. Maybe then I wouldn’t be such an anxious mess.

Already, my nerves are running haywire. I can barely breathe, barely think through the bundle of nerves churning my stomach uncomfortably.

This man has saved me in more ways than one. He has befriended me, mentored me, saved my dumbass life when I fell off a bridge. He has shown me how to survive in Hell and guided me through my first reaping. Through the deaths and murders, he has remained by my side. An impenetrable, immovable wall of support and friendship.

How can I not love him?

“Where are you?” I call.

“Kitchen!”

I hear the clatter of pans and pots and the succulent smell of Italian seasonings. Last time I was here, he made me homemade lasagna.

Everything he does is meticulous. He wouldn’t just make food for anyone. Only me.

He hasn’t said those three little words yet, but I know he feels them. It’s evident every time he stares at me, every time he flashes me that crooked smile that makes my heart beat erratically. Despite knowing the extent of his feelings, it’s still terrifying to be the first one to voice them out loud. I hate making myself vulnerable—my years in the hospital have taught me that—and that’s exactly what I’m doing tonight.

I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him bent over a pan of spaghetti. My heart, as always, ricochets up a notch when I see him.

His black hair is tousled, curling beneath his chin. The black shirt he wears is pulled tight over broad shoulders, accentuating the numerous muscles I yearn to touch and memorize. When he turns, smiling brightly, I see a five o’clock shadow covering his lower jaw.

“Hadley,” he breathes, stepping forward to take me into his arms. I wrap my own around his waist and rest my head on his chest. He feels warm beneath me. Vibrant. The heat he emits is almost palpable.

His name is a prayer on my lips. A promise of forever.

“Caius.”

Chapter 2

Preston

Hadley is the Darkness.

The realization of that truth threatens to rip me in half. I want to scream, to shout, to fight, but I’m paralyzed in anguish, in gut-wrenching despair. My vision blurs as tears well in my eyes. How did this happen? We failed her.

“What the fuck did you do to Hadley, you sick fucking monster?!” Braxton shouts, spit flying from his mouth. “Bring her back!” My head spins, and my