138. Spine-Chilling Chuckle

Rose's POV:

He hadn't moved a lot tonight.

For some reason, he had decided to stick to the tree line, leaning lazily against a thick trunk like he had all the time in the world.

On usual nights, when he saw me in the window, he took it as his cue to creep closer, like some nocturnal predator responding to an unspoken invitation.

But tonight? Nothing. Not even a twitch in my direction.

I squinted at him, half hoping that he'd take the hint., whilst also half dreading that he'd take it something else.

But nope. He didn't take it as anything.

Apparently, subtlety wasn't his thing.

Great.

Now I had a dilemma—how was I supposed to have a "civil" conversation with my very own personal stalker if he was going to stay yards away, brooding like some gothic lawn ornament?

I couldn't even see him clearly from here, much less hear him. And, okay, fine, maybe a tiny, microscopic part of me was some-level of curious to hear his voice again.

That low, abyss-deep baritone that had managed to wedge itself into my brain like an earworm I didn't ask for. Despite the fact that it was only a chuckle- a very heart-pounding, spine-tingling chuckle.

I shivered at the memory once again. Abort! Not thinking about that, right now.

I tapped my fingers against the window frame, trying to brainstorm a way to lure him closer without… you know, luring him closer.

What, now I had to beckon him forward like some creepy temptress? No way.

Just take off your clothes again. That worked last time.

My body locked up. What the hell?! No! Absolutely not! I gave my head a violent shake, as if I could physically rattle that insane idea out of my skull.

I am not that drunk. And I am never doing that again.

No, I needed something else. Something smart. Something dignified.

Something that didn't involve stripping for the shadowy bastard lurking in my backyard.

My gaze drifted to the cross hanging outside the patio door.

I sighed.

Oh, for fuck's sake. I should have had the foresight to this beforehand when it was still safe to go outside.

But there is no other option aside from the clothes-shedding one- which is so not happening in this life time again.

Reluctantly, I made my way to the door, placing my hand on the handle. Through the glass, I saw him stir slightly, his stance straightening as if he knew—oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

My breath hitched, but I steeled myself. It's fine. It's just a door. I'm still inside. Totally safe.

With one last deep inhale, I clicked the door open. A gust of cold wind immediately rushed in, making me gasp.

I could practically feel his gaze sharpening as I hesitantly stepped one foot onto the patio.

Okay. Cool. No big deal. Just reaching for the cross and then going right back inside.

I stretched my arm out, keeping my body as much inside the house as humanly possible while dangling myself awkwardly in the doorway. My fingers brushed the wooden surface.

Almost there. Just a little—

A shift.

I saw it from the corner of my eye. His posture had snapped to attention, no longer relaxed, no longer passive. He was watching me closely now, like I had just done something interesting.

Oh, hell no.

"Come on, come on, come on—" I muttered under my breath, fingers straining.

Finally, I wrapped my hand around the damn thing and yanked it inside, stumbling back and slamming the door shut so fast I nearly caught my own foot in it.

I took a moment to breathe, pressing my back against the door, clutching the cross to my chest like it was some kind of battle trophy.

Phew. That was unnecessarily stressful.

Okay, what now?

I forced myself to look up at him again. He was still standing there, unmoving, watching.

My fingers tightened around the cross as I slowly lifted it in front of me. Keeping my gaze locked with his, I made sure he saw the cross before I turned on my heel and deliberately placed the cross down on the kitchen counter.

My silent way of saying, Look, buddy, no holy burns tonight. It's safe. You can come closer.

Now let's just hope he takes the damn hint this time.