PREYS AT PLAY

4 │TEASE

VERENA

Fourteen dead roses with their thorns falling off, scattered on my bed.

By now, I've thrown everything in the trash can in front of the house, though Jensen tried to argue that I should keep it as evidence. It would only serve as a constant reminder that the killer does indeed know who I am, if I kept them. I have changed the bedsheets, vacuumed the whole room and still, as I am lying in bed, I can feel the thorns pricking my skin.

While I'm twisting and turning to find a comfortable lying position, my eyes land on the clock on my nightstand. It's almost two thirty and I'm wide awake, despite having early classes later today and work right after that. Sure, it's because I'm terrified of being alone. Except, I'm not alone tonight. Jensen is downstairs sleeping on the couch as my watchman, since Nick has a nightshift.

Perhaps, that's the actual reason why I can't get my shuteye. I repeat, Jensen is asleep on the couch in my living room.

"Stop it," I say to myself whilst I prop myself up on my elbows. My eyes are staring directly at the door, and the pit feeling in my stomach releases butterflies at the thought that he'd come up the stairs and into my bedroom, like I would dare to make a move on him if he did. I let myself fall back onto the mattress and press a pillow onto my face to muffle the scream I let out.

Suddenly, a loud thudding sound comes from downstairs, making me jump up. I stay seated in bed, with my eyes not leaving the door for a few seconds, waiting for something to happen. I turn to look at the window to my right, once again checking to see if it's close even though I have done so twice before. When the silence returns, I throw the bedcover off my lower half and slip on my house slippers. My heart is racing at a thousand miles when I open the door and walk down the stairs. When I stop at the end of the staircase and look around the living-room and kitchen, Jensen is nowhere to be seen. He wouldn't just leave, would he?

Then, to my right I sense some movement behind the kitchen island. It's a shadow of a rather big figure and right now, I have two things that can be done. One, I run back upstairs and hide under the covers like a little girl or,

Two.

I draw in a breath and choose to come face to face with whatever or whoever it is by running towards its movements. My feet stop moving when I find Jensen on his knees, picking up pieces of glass from the cup that shattered.

"Christ, Jensen!" I clutch my heart. "You scared me!"

"You're the one who ran my way, screaming like a crazy person." He rises to his feet and turns to throw the glass pieces that he picked up, into the trash-bin. "I accidently knocked it over. Was trying to make coffee to keep me awake." He explains. I retrieve a dustpan and a hand brush from under the sink and begin sweeping the smaller, almost unnoticeable glass pieces and dust in one pile.

"Here," He takes the dustpan and holds it into position for me to sweep the pile onto it. When I drag my eyes up to his face, hoping to get a glance of him, I get caught red-handed when he's already looking at me.

"I think that's everything," I quickly advert my eyes. He let's go off the dustpan and stands up straight again. "Do you still want that coffee?"

I look up to see his eyes roaming my chest. Who's caught red-handed now?

"Sure," he turns on his heel, looking at the living-room at absolutely nothing. Good thing he's a cop, because acting wouldn't work out well for him by the way he's doing a God-awful job at pretending right now.

I lean against the counter, in the mood for a tad of fun. "What are you looking at?" I ask, simply to see his reaction.

"What?" He scratches the back of his head, flashing me a smile.