CLARK – POV
"Curious little lamb, aren't you?"
The voice was so close, so soft and low, that it slithered straight into my spine like ice. My body jerked like a live wire had touched it—my feet nearly left the ground. I spun around with a strangled yelp only for a hand—cold as death—to clap over my mouth, muffling my scream.
In a blink, I was slammed up against the wall.
Hard.
His body pressed into mine, and we were too close—way too close—his breath grazing my cheek, his icy presence bleeding into my skin like frostbite. To anyone stumbling in on us, it would've looked like a moment straight out of a romantic BL anime.
But this wasn't romantic. This was a goddamn horror scene.
Because I knew that face.
The pale, ghostly guy. The senior I'd asked for directions on my first day—the one who had appeared out of nowhere, just like now.
Where had he come from? Why hadn't I heard a single step? No shadow. No sound. Just one second I was alone, and the next—this.
