by Webster, K.
Contents
1. White Rabbit
2. The Hunter
3. White Rabbit
Also by K Webster
About the Author
White Rabbit
Copyright © 2019 K Webster
Cover Design: All by Design
Photo: Adobe Stock
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
1
White Rabbit
They call him a god.
Tall. Handsome. Charismatic.
Every girl’s dream boyfriend.
Not mine. I know better. To me, he’s a nightmare. A snake in the grass with sharp teeth and an even sharper tongue. Vicious. Violent. Fucking crazy.
Land McPherson.
Most popular guy at school…and my enemy.
He’s a hunter and I’m his prey. I’m pretty sure he designed his annual “hunt” just so he can practice for the day he’ll chase me. It’s inevitable. A fate woven in the fabric of our very beings, he and I.
It’d almost be romantic if it weren’t something pulled straight from the horror books.
Not to mention, I’m not exactly his type.
Last I saw, he had his tongue down the throat of some junior with big tits and silky brown hair. Tan skin from too much time in the sun. Beautiful. His cruel brown eyes were on me though. Watching. Waiting. Calculating. I’d been snared in his visual trap, forced to watch him tongue-rape the varsity cheerleader. She was totally into it.
Maybe in another life, I’d be into it too.
I used to crush on Land just like any other girl in his presence. He’s the hottest guy any of us have ever known. Ever. But it wasn’t like that for me. I couldn’t be into him. Not after the day he decided to start his hate crusade against me.
One day in middle school he twisted his perfect lips into a mean smile and called me White Rabbit.
White.
Rabbit.
Such a silly, innocent name.
But to me, it stuck. It stung. It bled. Still bleeds.
I’m albino.
Alabaster. Snow. Blank.
Stark and blinding and jarring.
I’d heard all the names as that’s the way it goes when you’re albino. Casper was a favorite among our peers, but White Rabbit was the one that got to me.
It’s not just the color of my skin. It’s everything. My hair. My eyebrows. My lashes. My freaking pubes. White as white can be.
White. Rabbit.
I sat at the lunch table all alone as was the usual for my seventh grade year, dipping my baby carrots in ranch, when he sat at my table. I’d stared hopelessly at his wicked smile, imagining for one second it was truly meant for me.
Sometimes my naivety is embarrassing.
His brown eyes flashed and then he bit on his bottom lip with his front two teeth and scrunched his nose, mimicking an animal.
“White Rabbit likes carrots.” The mocking tone in his voice echoed through the lunchroom, sending cackles chasing after it.
Horrified, I dropped the carrot into the container of ranch and pressed my lips together in an effort to hide my two front teeth that happened to be slightly large for my face. Dad said I’d grow into them. Obviously not soon enough.
Four years later and the name is still all mine.
I’m not even sure if Land even knows my real name.
But he knows my father.
Satisfaction roils through me. Dad is the sheriff in our town. And Land, because he’s a little shit starter, has had more than a few run-ins with the sheriff. His grandfather always swoops in to save the day, throwing his money and his clout around, but Land is on Dad’s radar. There’s no getting off once you’re there.
I may be the white rabbit and Land may be the hunter, but I’m smarter. Wiser. More calculating than he’ll ever be. Dad may not be able to pin down the biggest brat in our town because of red tape and blackmail, but I’m no cop.
I’m a journalist.
Well, I aspire to be one.
With the Internet, kids nowadays can be whatever they want, whenever they want. I’ve wanted to hunt down truths and expose them to the world ever since I was a little girl. Having a cop for a dad instills that desire in you.
“Are you haunting my son, little ghost?”
The voice, gravelly and deep, reverberates down my spine making me jolt. I’m thrust to the present. The hunt. Halloween. I’m inside Land’s house at his annual Halloween party. Uninvited.
“W-What?” I squeak out, swiveling around to face the voice.
I cringe when I finally lay eyes on him. Land’s father. Gabe. I know all about Gabriel Sharpe. I’ve researched him the most. Though he goes by his wife’s maiden name for legalities, as does Land, I know the truth. They’re all Sharpes. Gabe, Hannah, Toni Lynn, and Land.
He’s the older version of Land. Scarier if at all possible. Unhinged. Impossibly good looking at his old age. I’m half convinced he’s a vampire because no one his age should be so…preserved. The older Land gets, the more they look alike. One day they’ll look like brothers and that’s frightening to think of them both out there in the world wreaking havoc. Together. Like little monsters.
Quite frankly, the Sharpe family is nuts.
Certifiable.
Loony as fuck.
The mom, Hannah, even did a stint in an asylum.
To say I’m obsessed with this family is an understatement. From the moment Land called me White Rabbit, it’s like he drew a line in the sand. He started a war and my daddy didn’t raise a quitter. I suited and booted up, ready to fight this motherfucker until the end. The battles he chooses are daily mean boy tactics. Bullying. General asshole shit. Every year, his battles get bloody…for someone else. I keep waiting for my moment. The moment he paints my crimson blood along my pale skin and claims my last breath.
Land’s Halloween parties end in death.
Always.
I’m not sure if it’s his parents or him, but there is sinister evilness lurking this time of year. They throw their blowout parties and invite everyone. People invite more people. And, eventually, everyone from our town and all the surrounding ones seem to be a part of the biggest shindig around. They’re so wrapped up in schmoozing with each other they miss the fact that people wind up dead. Every year. Not at the party, but elsewhere. It’s a busy night for Dad and his police buddies. Bodies just pile up. I’m no cop, but the sign practically flashes above the Sharpe house.
Here.
Here.
Here.
Here.
“You’re an odd one. Sheriff Eastland’s daughter, right? Hope?”
I cringe, jolting from my inner rambling to stare at Gabe. “Yes.” There’s no point in denying it. You don’t exactly look like me and blend in, unless you’re standing in front of a white wall or it’s fucking Christmas.
“Hmm.” He smirks, his dark eyes flashing with wicked intent, before he scans the crowd. “He here?”
“Land?”
His smirk transforms into a smile that reminds me so much of Land that it makes my stomach clench. Evil men shouldn’t be hot. It should be a rule. They lure their victims in with a handsome smile, right
before they cut them open. I’m not stupid. I know how this works. I just wish I weren’t affected.
“I know my son is here, being it’s his home. I meant the sheriff. Or is he out fighting crime like a good little boy?”
Dad is anything but little.
His gut has grown over the years, but since he’s six foot five, he doesn’t seem fat. Just big. Taller than Gabe, but Gabe would still whoop his ass in a heartbeat. Luckily for Dad, he’s an ace with a Glock.
“You know he’s not here,” I bite out a little too harshly considering I know exactly who this man is.
He’s a rapist. A murderer. A fucking villain.
And his wife…
I suppress a shudder and lift my chin, ready for battle.
His dark brow arches up as though I amuse him. “Question is, little ghost, why are you? Last I heard, your kind wasn’t welcome around here.”
My kind?
White.
Rabbit.
Tears of embarrassment burn my lids and cling to my lashes. “My skin—”
He barks out a laugh. “Not your skin, silly little rabbit. You. A cop’s precious little girl. From the spark in your eyes, I’d say you know you’re in the den with wolves. Question is, why? Why. Are. You. Here?”
I swallow down the emotion as fear races through my veins like a spike of heroin. “I wanted to see what the McPherson parties were all about.” Truth. I narrow my eyes at him, challenging him to argue.
“You’re not a rabbit at all,” he says with a wild grin that makes me want to run far, far away from him. “You’re a bloodhound. You’re a hunter too. Look at how bloodthirsty you are, girl.”
For your blood, asshole.
For every single one of you.
Maybe not Toni Lynn. Land’s big sister’s story is still a mystery to me, but it’s one I’ll one day solve. If I get out of here alive.
“Speaking of thirsty,” I say with a saccharine smile. “Where can I get something to drink?”
“There’s punch in the kitchen.” His features darken. “It’s red. Careful, it stains.”
I start backing away from Land’s psychopathic father when my eyes catch two eyes in shadows. A flash of blond hair.
The mother.
Land’s mother.
Nope. Not today, Satan. I dealt with the dad, but I am not dealing with the mom. Turning on my heel, I push past familiar people who don’t give me the time of day. When I burst into the kitchen, I suck in a sharp breath of air, desperate to calm my nerves. I’m way out of my element, but I’m here. On a hunt. Seeking truth. Looking for clues. One day, I’m going to drop all of my evidence on Dad’s desk and demand they pay for their sins.
So close.
I’m just stepping over to the punchbowl that reeks of hard liquor when I feel it. Him. Land freaking Sharpe. Not McPherson. Sharpe. Like a blade, cutting through the crowd. He must have me on his scent because he is pulled to me as though we’re connected by an invisible tether.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Of course I look. I always look. He’s so beautiful it hurts to look, but I like that sort of pain.
Even in a skintight black and white skull mask, I know it’s him. His dark brown eyes seem to shoot laser beams of hate, burning me right into the wood floors. Lacrosse has been good to him and I drag my gaze down his perfect form. The devil was perfect too. Hell, his father is as well. Must be in the blood. Their freakish, fucked up genes. He’s tall like his father. Muscular and hard, but maybe not as wide in the shoulders. Where his father has a close-cut beard, Land’s face is smooth, not that you’d know it with the mask covering his face. But I’ve memorized everything about him in my quest for knowledge. Every cowlick in his hair. Every freckle on his face. Every stupid expression his face makes.
He walks right up to me, towering above my shorter frame. His scent envelops me—woodsy and expensive. The boy—who smells like a man and looks like the devil—invades my space. I’m forced to look up at him, wondering if he’ll stab me right here. Right now. In front of hundreds of people. Is this how they do it? Some sort of Halloween murder club where all the townsfolk are in on it? I glower up at him, waiting to learn the unspoken rules, because apparently I came to play.
His head cocks to the side as he studies me. “You’re lost.”
My heart rate sputters to life at his gruff words. Not quite angry, but not at all pleased.
“I’m not lost. I found what I was hunting for.”
2
The Hunter
White Rabbit.
White. Fucking. Rabbit.
Why in the hell is she here? I snap my head to the side, looking for my best friend Blane. He stands there, tense as fuck, but not saying a word. Blane knows the rules.
Hope Eastland is not allowed at my house.
Not ever.
Yet, she’s here.
Which means his ass didn’t do his job. I should have been clued in. Fucking warned. I sure as hell didn’t expect to see her standing by the punch looking like a goddamn snack, tempting the devilish desires inside me.
Hope is off limits.
Un-fucking-invited.
Not allowed to step foot into my home.
Fury swells up inside me and I curl my hands into fists. I crave to beat the shit out of Blane. To make him pay for this horrible mishap. Instead, I turn my wrath back on her. It must hit her like the heat of the sun because she gasps, parting her pale pink lips and taking a step backward. Her ass hits the drawer behind her, trapping her. Too easy.
I step right into her space, my leg between her parted ones and let my anger drench her. Her breathing comes out quick and panicked but she’s caught. Just like she wanted. I want to yank the stupid white bunny ears off her head and yell at her.
White Rabbit.
Now she mocks me. Throws my nickname back in my face. Encroaches on my territory. She’s dressed in a white leotard that blends with her skin, white leggings, and white ballet slippers. Her icy blond hair hangs down in translucent curtains in front of each shoulder, bringing focus to her pert tits. Hard nipples poke through the spandex material, begging for my attention.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Rather than stare at her tits—tits I wonder if are adorned with pink budded nipples that match her pouty mouth—I let my gaze rake over her gray, penciled in whiskers on her cheeks.
“What are you doing?” I demand, my voice low, barely heard over the hum of the party.
Her chin lifts and her navy-blue eyes flash. “I came to see what the fuss was all about.”
“You weren’t invited.”
She fucking shrugs. Bold. So bold.
“Why, White Rabbit, do you want to come to my party? Haven’t you been warned?” Because I can’t help myself, I reach up and grip her throat. Gently. A threat laced in with the stroke of my thumb along her throbbing pulse.
“You hate me anyway, so what have I got to lose, Sharpe?”
I tense at the last name—my real one—thrown so freely for any-fucking-one to hear. Blane knows, so he’s cool, but no one else does. My hand tightens around her throat and I lean forward. She smells like candy corn. Not carrots. Not hate. Fucking sweet.
I love candy corn.
“Blane,” I say over my shoulder. “Plans have changed.”
“Yeah?”
“White Rabbit wants in on the hunt.” I smirk at her.
She presses her white, freaky as fuck hand against my chest and pushes. Rising on her toes, she brings her face close to mine where I can scent that sweet candy corn smell again. I lick my lips.
“Don’t misunderstand,” she says, her voice a throaty purr that makes my dick twitch. “I don’t want to be hunted. I want to hunt.”
Little pale freak wants to get bloody.
Interesting.
I’m calling her fucking bluff.
“Land…” Blane sounds unsure behind me. Confused as hell. This wasn’t the plan. Deanna was the plan
. My blood boils just thinking about her. The way she made out with me this afternoon just hours after telling everyone in the goddamn school my mother was a schizophrenic. Deanna is the biggest gossiper at our school and I’m tired of her running her mouth about my family.
“The plan is still on,” I say, shocking the hell out of the both of us. “A new hunter joins the pack.”
Hope swallows, her navy eyes widening. “You’re going to let me hunt?”
“For one, you know apparently everything, so it’s either hunt or be hunted for you, White Rabbit.” I let my gaze rake down her skintight leotard. “And as much as I’m enjoying this view, you can’t hunt in this.”
“I have clothes in the car. And my purse.”
From what I can see, she’s not hiding a phone anywhere. “You won’t need your purse.” I smirk at her. “Or your clothes. You can borrow mine.”
Her white brows furl together, but I don’t give her a chance to think. I grab her delicate wrist and haul her behind me. Shockingly, she goes without a fight. I’m not a fool to think it’s because she’s scared or weak. She’s interested. Curious. Eager for me to show her my world. Her dad might be the sheriff, but tonight I’m the authority. Tonight she answers to me.
We push through the crowd, me dragging her behind, with Blane pulling up the rear. I notice my dad physically restraining my mother against the wall as he ravishes her neck. Mom has issues, but it doesn’t give Deanna a fucking right to blab that shit to the whole school. For her constant shit-talking about my family, she will pay.
I take Hope down a hallway and then push into my bedroom. It’s immaculate. I hate disorder. Cannot exist if my space is in chaos. Everything is exactly as it should be. As soon as we step inside, I nod my head to Blane.
“Eyes on D. Meet outside in an hour. You know what to do.”
He gives me a fist bump before leaving on a mission to get Deanna drunk as fuck. I close the door behind him and flip the lock. I watch Hope to see if she flinches. I should have known she wouldn’t. Not her. She’s an albino and a cop’s kid. It takes a lot more than my bedroom to scare the shit out of her.
