Adult Content Warning
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Summary
The air felt thin, the walls closing in. She wasn't the saviour. She was the guest of honour. Panic surged through her, a blind, instinctive need to get out, to get help. She reached into her pocket for her phone, her fingers shaking so violently she nearly dropped it. She began to dial the sheriff's number, her breath coming in shallow, terrified hitches. Suddenly, a hand clamped around her wrist. The grip was like a vice—cold, hard, and utterly possessive. Mykie let out a sharp yelp, the phone clattering to the floor with a plastic clack. She was spun around and slammed back against the door, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She looked up, and there he was.
Dean.
He looked exactly as he always did, but his eyes were different—dark, bottomless pits of obsidian that reflected nothing but her own terror. He was smiling, but it wasn't the smile she loved. It was a predatory, hungry expression that made her skin crawl. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice a low, gravelly purr that sent a shiver of absolute dread down her spine.
"You're just in time, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "I've been waiting all night to celebrate Valentine's with you."
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