For hours, I'd paced my bedroom as the cold nightly breeze played upon my cheeks, which braced my already startling nerves. I'd seated myself over the edge of the bed, talked to Casper, pulled a magazine from my bag, tried to read, but nothing could calm my restless mind. In a few hours, the sun would rise without a sign of Julian.

Casper sprawled out at the foot of the bed and watched as I walked about, the planked floors creaking under my bare feet. One green eye and one blue eye remained fixed on my every move as Casper listened intently with his ears twitching to my voice.

"It was real," I said through a sigh, then sat beside him and ran my fingers through his soft white mane. "A dream would have made things easier."

Casper meowed, as manly as a boy cat could meow, then arched his back against my palm.

"No, it wouldn't have," a voice said, and my head snapped to the sound.

Behind the thin veil of the light woven curtains, Julian stood over my balcony, away from the railing, looking out into the ocean. Though the moon's light illuminated over him, he cast no shadow.

"You saw me kill all those birds, and you still went back to the woods to find me." He turned, and through the shadows of the night, his cold silvery eyes assaulted me. "I told you—crazy."

A shot of adrenaline forced my muscles to jerk under my skin, and Casper jumped from my bed to his favorite spot over the armoire. My throat went dry as he walked closer, and a turbulent desire tumbled to the tips of my fingers down to my toes.

I cleared my throat. "I had to make sure what happened was real."

Julian stood over me—the night sky through the opened French doors behind him—and my palms began to sweat from gripping the edge of the mattress I was sitting on.

"Did you tell anyone what you saw? What I did?" Only his eyes were visible, two silver slits above the mask line.

"No, I wouldn't do that," I clipped out, and my shoulders slacked in defeat. "But what did happen last night between us? And why did you kill those birds?" I had so many questions.

Another quietness swept the room. I grew impatient, but just when my mouth opened to speak, Julian crossed his arms, looking down at me through his hollowed eyes that popped in silver against his thick black lashes.

"I snapped," he said, resolved, remembering as his gaze remained distant. "No matter how many I—" his words stopped there, and he shook his head, "—more come, more sing, more haunt me. It doesn't stop. It only gets worse."

"The ravens, they're some kind of death omen?" I asked, remembering Marietta's folklore about ravens and black beetles and white moths, the deliverers of fate. Julian dropped his head in a somber nod. Another question surfaced, and my chest ached from the mere thought of it, and I couldn't understand why. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, but the words still escaped despite my fight. I had to know. "Are you going to die?"

Julian's brows pinned together. "You see me kill birds because of a death omen, and you ask if it's me who's dying?"

My cheeks heated, embarrassed of my concern for him. Then his words hit me, and I felt my heated flesh turn into a white chill as if the blood drained from my feet. I tried to swallow down the unsettling panic. "Is it Benny? Me?"

"Someday, yeah. We're all slowly dying." He was blunt, a quick jab to the gut. He ran his hand through his black hair, probably noticing the horror on my face. "I don't know who it's for," Julian finally admitted, then looked behind his shoulder and shifted in place before sliding his gaze back to me, "It doesn't matter, it's not the reason I agreed to come."

"Then, why did you come?"

I took notice in the way Julian took his time responding. It was as if I could see the words flick rapidly in the cracks of his careful mind through his eyes.

"I'm not a fan of making assumptions until I'm sure of a thing. I'm the same way with people. But, based on your unwelcomed drop-ins lately, I can see you're the type who doesn't stop until you have all the answers, and in Weeping Hollow, there are no answers. Reality bends here. Same with time. Some days it's hard to tell the difference between what's real and what isn't. This town can make you go mad the harder you try to figure it out. So, don't. You have to stay away from the woods. You have to stay away from me."

"And if I don't want to?" If I can't now?

A steel storm stirred in his intense eyes. "Haven't you witnessed enough? I am the dark, cursed stranger they all warned you about," he mocked, his chest rising and falling heavily, and he slapped his palm over his chest. "I could kill you. I should have killed you," he said with a battle in his eyes. "It's who I am."

"I don't know what exactly happened last night, but whatever happened, it wasn't your fault …" I started to say, and he dropped his head, shaking it as if he was refusing to hear it. "I saw you. You were scared, and it was almost like…"

Julian tilted his chin and looked at me from the corner of his eyes. "Like what?"

My mouth went dry. "I don't know, like you needed me…" The words sounded strange outside my head. "And something tells me you would never intentionally hurt me or anyone, and maybe I can help." I paused to catch my breath. "I don't see you the same way they do, Julian. I'm not afraid like the rest of them."

"Don't be stupid. You're afraid of something, and that's enough." Julian raised his brows. "Do you have any idea what I can do?" he asked, and I snapped my jaw shut. "Whenever you see my face in its entirety, all you'll be able to see is your fears. And when you looked at me last night, I was there with you in that dark place you're so afraid of. I felt your terror. I heard your screams. I felt it in my own throat! Whatever happened between us in the woods," he leaned over, looked me in the eyes with my head in the palms of his hands, "Whatever that was, it was torn away as soon as you looked at me. You should have died."

Oxygen had frozen in my lungs, and my heart raced as if all the stars had died and shot across the skies of my chest.

Realization dawned in Julian's eyes at how close we were, and he pulled his hands away and ran one through his hair, gripping the back of his neck.

Everything Fable and Monday had told me about the Hollow Heathens were true. They were cursed, and I witnessed it first-hand. I had looked at his face and was thrown back into the well of my childhood.

The reality of it all crept along my spine. "How did I get home? I don't remember going home after that."

"You passed out, and I brought you home." Julian released a heavy breath and tilted his head. "I can tell the difference, and your fear seemed more like a memory. How did you end up in that place? Is that why you are afraid of the dark?"

My brows snapped together. "The dark?" There was an unintentional bite in my words, and I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I shook my head. "It's not the dark I'm afraid of."

"Then what is it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," he snapped.

"Why?"

Julian sat beside me at the edge of the mattress and dropped his elbows to his knees, hanging his head between his shoulders. A heavy exhale left him as I held mine, waiting for a response.

When he lifted his head, his gaze slid to mine from the corners of his eyes. "You're the only person who's looked into my face that I haven't killed. You survived, and it doesn't make sense. No one has survived me before."

For some reason, I trusted the stranger in my room who had the power to pull me back into my fears. I had no reason to trust him, but I did. If all this was true, Julian had experienced that terrible night from when I was a kid right along with me less than twenty-four hours ago, and he was the only one who could understand it.

We were connected in some kind of way.

My entire body shifted on the mattress to face him.

"Confinement," I spilled, my fingers fidgeting in my lap. I'd never told anyone before, and it felt as if a burden lifted with my confession. "Small places, walls, confinement, my freedom taken away … being trapped. All of it. If I can't escape …" I couldn't finish the sentence. I couldn't think more about it, so I let it die off there, and it was as if the world had gone silent with my declaration. Even the cold wind blowing in seemed to calm.

Julian turned too, giving me all of his attention. "Tell me what happened."

And his hand came over my naked thigh. It felt so new and familiar at the same time, and a shudder ripped up the ladder of my spine. He was here, making places tingle that had never been touched, gazing at me with a fierce tenderness. He was here, making me feel things I'd never felt before.

I scanned the room, questioning if I was even awake. Maybe I'd never woken up at all.

Reality bends here. "Is this real?" I think I asked aloud, the sound of the clock sitting on my nightstand ticking, playing behind the silence.

Julian tilted his head, catching my eyes with his. "Do you want it to be?"

"Yes." I'd said it so quickly, not having to think. Yes, I did.

"Tell me what happened," he insisted.

Casper meowed from the armoire, watching our exchange closely, and Julian removed his hand and leaned back against the bed, bracing himself up with his palms on each side of him. The man was gentle and intense. How was it possible? The moonlight dragged a shadow across him, and his light eyes punched through the layer of darkness, probing for me to continue. So, I did, but not without a shaken breath.

"I was only seven. The kids on my street constantly teased and harassed me, followed me all the way home from the bus stop. They used to call me the spawn of Satan, an evil witch ... freakshow. Whatever evil thing you could imagine, that's what they called me. 'Don't look into her eyes,' they'd say," and my words broke at the seams of my childhood.

I paused to contain my emotions, to keep them at bay. Julian's posture turned rigid, but his eyes never left me, even when I had to look away.

"One day we were walking home from the bus stop, and they wouldn't stop. They pushed me around. They stole my backpack. They pulled my hair. They mocked me. They taunted me. Then they pushed me inside the well because that's where witches belong. In Hell. And at first, I couldn't get up. My whole side hurt so bad … but at some point, I did. And all night long, I tried to get out. I tried so hard that my nails ripped from my fingers. I was bleeding and hurt and alone and convinced I was going to die. It was the longest night of my life."

I shuddered at the mere thought of going back there. And I knew for certain, if I'd ever see Julian's face, I would be back there in that well, and my chest tightened. I continued so he wouldn't notice, "My nanny, Marietta, she found me. For thirteen hours, I was in there," I shook my head, "Jaxon Jenkins lost his sight the next day. Brady Matthews went mute a week later … and … after that, no one would come near me or touch me or talk to me. They were nice," the word tasted bitter on my tongue, "because they were scared of me and the things I could possibly do."

"The Order was right. Nothing's changed," Julian mumbled to himself, his brows pinched together in deep thought. "The world is still the same after all these years." He tilted his head and peered over at me. "But you didn't do those things to those kids? After everything they did to you?"

"No. Even if I could, I wouldn't," I shook my head and pinched the edge of the mattress. "But, now I'm thinking it really was Marietta, and if she could do those things, she'd only do something like that to protect me. She wasn't evil." I looked up to Julian. "I've never told anyone that before. Not even my dad."

Julian's glazed and tormented eyes dwelled on me with all their madness; I noticed the wrinkle between his brows deepen, an understanding or a sorrow. I noticed these things, and it did something crazy to my own heart.

The silence between us was comfortable yet loud. I couldn't understand what he was thinking, so I shredded the silence with my voice. "But then I get here, and it's as if everyone wants to be my friend. Usually, I'm the girl everyone is scared of, the one who everyone avoided, but not here. It's different here."

"Because they all want something from you," he answered. "They want you in their coven."

"Except you," I pointed out, focusing on keeping my voice steady. "You don't care. In fact, if memory serves me correctly," I started, remembering what he'd said at the Town Hall meeting, "You have a certain taste. Wanting someone like me would be absurd."

His gaze froze on me. "I was—"

"'Cause I'm a freakshow, right?"

Julian's eyes turned to slits. "Fallon—"

"No, I heard you guys in the woods. I heard what you all said about me. I've heard it my entire life. I always hear what they say about me as if I'm not there, as if it doesn't hurt. But it does hurt! You said so yourself, you saw my memory. Do you think I enjoyed what they did to me? What I had to listen to from your friends? You think being no one's taste doesn't hurt? God forbid anyone took the time to actually get to know me."

Julian's posture stiffened, his gaze ran cold. A growl thundered inside him, holding back the same turmoil he released at Voodoos. He snapped up, snatched my arm, and yanked me across the room toward the full-length mirror standing in the corner of the dim room until I was confronted with my reflection. My heart hammered as he stood behind me. His chest slammed against my back. He looked down at my confused expression. My eyes fell to the girl in the mirror with no makeup, bright white skin, and even whiter hair. Colorless, the scary glass blue eyes in the mirror stared back, and I turned my head away.

"No. Look at yourself," he commanded, his voice like sandpaper. Julian wrapped his fingers around my jaw and forced my head forward until my eyes slammed into my own again.

"What are you doing?" I tried to maneuver my way out of his hold, but his grip tightened, one hand locked around my jaw, the other on my hipbone.

"You are a freak," he said slowly into my ear. I closed my eyes, and he squeezed my jaw until they popped open. "You're an insecure freakshow. Anthrax. Powder. The spawn of Satan. Ghost. Mutant. A strange fucking thing. Look at you!" His voice grew louder with each word. My vision blurred as I tried to fight against his tight grip. He slammed me against his chest to keep me still. "Are those tears coming? That's … what?" He tilted his head, mockery in his eyes, and I wished I could squeeze mine shut. "Twenty-four years of listening to them? Of letting them define you? Because you care so much about what everyone else thinks, right?"

"Stop," I gritted through clenched teeth, tears pooling and shaking in the rims of my eyes. I tried to shake my head from his grasp. Julian had turned into something else. Something screaming. Something raw. Something candid and cruel. The shape of a passionate shadow, the color of cutthroat. Was it something I said? "Why are you doing this?"

"Me? You're doing this to yourself," he insisted, his breathing hard, his chest slamming against my back. "And it's sad. Acceptance is a ten-letter prison we're all eager to be locked in," his eyes glossy and wild and alive, "You let everyone else tell you who you are, and you listen. You let what's out of your control, control you! And look at what you've become—locked in your personal hell surrounded by the bars of these insults. This is your fault. At the end of the day, the only person to blame is you. And now that's all you are. A little. Fucking. Freakshow. Still left inside that well all those years ago. You never left."

My eyes narrowed, and I pushed back against him. Julian forced my head forward again and curled his hand into my waist, pinning me to his front as he continued, "I bet these words haunt you. You wear the very mask those hypocrites made every day, and I bet it's heavier than mine."

Silent tears slipped down my numbed face and spilled over his fingers.

Julian paused, his eyes zeroed in on them. Then he flipped up his mask only to reveal his mouth, his vibrant scarlet lips. His tongue darted out and licked my tears from his knuckles. "Tastes like a salty little freakshow, too." His eyes flicked to mine. "People will always have something to say, but it's your fault you become it. At least you can fight back. Some of us don't have that luxury."

My bottom bucked against him, and Julian's right hand came over my throat.

I froze.

Julian froze.

My scared eyes locked on his eyes that were thrashing in conflict.

Then the confliction snapped, and all that was left was a weak and vulnerable man who couldn't catch a solid breath. And time slowed. His movements slowed. His touch slowed. His breathing slowed.

Julian gathered my hair and pulled it off my shoulder, and the grip around my throat became gentle as he tilted my head. And my heart! It was beating so fast that I couldn't feel it anymore. I couldn't feel anything aside for his hands on me, and his finger dipping into the hem of my cardigan over my shoulder. They grazed my bare skin as he slipped the material off one side, and goosebumps flared across my flesh.

Then he kissed my shoulder so softly it felt like wings or a whisper. I didn't understand, couldn't conform to a single thought. I watched his mouth, his soft lips trailing my skin, and felt myself slipping and heating and falling as my lashes fluttered, having no idea what was happening; how I went from angry to sad to…this. But what was this? This feeling I never wanted to go away? What was it called?

His tongue, it licked the length of my shoulder to the crook in my neck before the heat of his mouth covered my flesh. He sucked hard, pulling and pushing desire between us. My knees weakened, but his hands on me, his mouth on my skin, it all kept me bound to him, and it was torturous yet not enough as the same heat rocketed to the space between my legs. His lips were shaped as if cut by a sharp blade, yet felt so delicate against my flesh when he landed one last kiss on my neck.

Julian lifted his head and blew his icy breath over my neck where his mouth had just been. "There," he said, finally calm and collected, admiring his work before his silvery eyes snapped up to mine in the mirror. "This time, when you wake up in the morning, you'll see this and know tonight was real." He pulled up my cardigan over my shoulder and released his hand around my throat. "And you'll remember to stay out of the woods."