A tap on her window. She squirms within her warm sheets and furrows her brow at her book, trying to dive into another world. A world created by words lit through her fluorescent lighting. Trying so, so hard to ignore—

Another tap. Her bottom lip quivers, torn between the want to shrink into herself, to become so small he could never find her because she’d hide in the cracks, and the knowledge that she’d die if she did.

Another tap—

“What?!” she snaps, turning toward the window.

He could be a standing corpse, there on the other side of the glass with no movement or expression, his mouth a flat line. And those damn, sick blue eyes.

He lifts a boney white finger, tips his nail against the window, and slices down the glass. She drops her book and slaps her palms over her ears, teeth gritting against the horrible noise. When the screeching stops, he is as still as before, only now there is a smile across the bottom half of his face, fangs as large as knives.

She groans and stands from her bed. “I know you can get in here if you want, so why do you insist on making me come to the window?”

His smile grows larger as she approaches, places her fingers beneath the sash, and lifts.

The glass barrier between them is removed and he answers:

“Because, Tiffany, I like it when you let me in.”

His frozen breath breaks across her face and she shivers. He reaches out to touch her cheek, his contact cold and unforgiving. She whimpers but does not dare move away from him. His fingers run down her skin, trace through her curls, and grip around her neck. She yelps as he pulls her over the windowsill so that her body balances on the hinge of her hip bone, hanging half inside and half outside. His face is so close; she can feel the heat of that blue fire in his eyes.

“Don’t make me wait again.”

She grunts for air and tries her best to nod in compliance.

“Good. Now, for business. She’ll be outside the building soon. I expect you to be there when she is. In fact, I expect you to leave immediately and wait however long you must.”

“But my shi—”

Tiffany chokes on her words as his grip tightens. His hand slithers up her shirt and bites down on her side.

“Finish that sentence and I will cut off your tongue to toss in formaldehyde.”

She silences, attempting to subdue her gasps. But his hand bites down harder into her skin and she can’t help but cry out.

“It’s her life or yours.”

He releases her and she collapses on the sill like she’s stretched across a guillotine and the window could come down on her at any moment to split her in half. She wants to scream for help but knows she’d be dead before she could make a sound. His fingers hold her chin and lift her head.