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Bella-

"You look smokin'," Kevin from accounting stated, imitating Jim Carey from The Mask. His finger ran down the red cloak covering my shoulders as he leaned closer. "Please tell me, you are saving me a dance."

With a measure of annoyance, I glared at his green face and large white teeth, shrugging away from his touch. "Actually, I'm kinda waiting for someone." Passing him the fakest smile I could muster, I backed away until his hand fell from the cloak. "Also, don't touch me unless I tell you it's okay to touch me."

His eyes widened slightly before his hands flew up in apology. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—."

I didn't bother to let him finish. Just because I was dressed with the cutest, correction sexiest, Little Red Riding costume, didn't give him permission to touch me whenever he chose.

Turning away abruptly, I headed across the room to find the open bar. "Can I get a Long Island iced tea?"

Tapping the countertop with impatience, I glanced around the dimly lit ballroom for the millionth time. So far he wasn't here, or if he was I hadn't noticed him. This morning on my way to work I dropped that damn flyer on purpose, hoping he would come.

So far, nope.

As soon as the bartender passed me my drink, I took a long gulp, needing the rush of liquor to calm my nerves.

He was pissed at me. I could see it in his eyes on the subway, and I could feel the tension between us.

It was so strange being in tune with someone you didn't even know. Perhaps I was just bored and created these feelings in my imagination to liven up my life just a fraction.

That could be true with the exception of the park. There had been so much passion in the one encounter than I'd felt in my entire life. Long story short, now that I could enjoy it guilt-free, I was desperately searching for the next opportunity.

I looked at every male in attendance. Zorro, Robin Hood, The Mask, Frankenstein, cowboy, police officer, Jason, Freddie were all accounted for, yet were wrong.

Wrong build. Wrong complexion. Wrong height. Wrong eyes. Wrong fingers. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. They were all wrong and not even close to my stalker.

I was just about to give up when I felt a sliver of heat slide down my spine. Tingles ran from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Instantly, alert to the only person in the world that could inspire that type of sensation, I slowly turned around, scanning the edge of the room.

There.

That had to be him.

Even as the thought occurred to me, a shot of adrenaline shot through my blood. I couldn't see his face or any of him for that matter. He was completely hidden in a black cloak carrying a scythe in one gloved hand.

Fear slipped through my blood, but so too did that infectious thrill. How was it possible for the Lord of Darkness to cause this double dose of warmth to shoot to my core?

I continued to stare, taking another long drink, finishing the glass, I set it aside. My gaze never wavered as I licked the drop of liquor from my lips, the rush of alcohol doing its job.

I felt a bit molten. The tension I'd felt this morning finally released its grip.

I kinda wanted to approach him. I knew it was him, but I didn't know.

There was only one way to find out, I decided, pulling my gaze away and turning my back. A few feet away were the terrace doors, and without a second thought, I headed in that direction.

If it was him, he would follow.

Cool air caressed my arms and legs as I stepped over the threshold. While this costume was cute as hell, it did very little for the warmth department. The night was almost perfect, however, the air was crisp but not exactly cold.

Wandering toward the stairs leading into the garden, I didn't bother to look over my shoulder, confident if he was indeed the Grim Reaper, he would be very close behind. With this thought in mind, I slipped further down the cobblestone path. The faint glow from lanterns overhead illuminated the way.

I was deep in the garden without another soul in sight when I heard the crunch of a twig. My lashes fluttered as a splash of panic zipped through me.

Taking a deep breath, I bit my lip as I abruptly turned on my heel to find the source of the sound. Fright and disappointment kept me frozen in place when I found the path behind me empty. Gritting my teeth in aggravation, I cursed, glaring at the empty spot where he should be. "Fucker!"

"Who? Me?"

A chill danced across my skin when I felt the edge of my cloak brush against my cheek. My breath caught in my throat as a gloved finger drifted along my neck to the top of my breast.

The familiar rasp of his breath reached my ears, the press of his chest warm against my back, his free hand sliding around my waist.

Instead of resisting, I willingly melted, letting his strength hold me steady.

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