Kill Switch (Devil’s Night Book 3)

Present

“Mikhail?” I called, trailing down the hallway.

I’d woken up, hearing his nails clicking on the hardwood floor.

Music played in the house, and I could hear some people downstairs, moving freely, as well as cars driving up to the house. What was going on?

After the bath, I’d locked my door, slipped on some clothes, dried my hair, and repacked my escape bag, counting my money again and making a mental list of where I could go, just in case. I knew I wouldn’t run, because that would put others at risk, but I needed something to keep myself occupied.

And then stupidly, I’d fallen asleep, the worry, the fright from this morning, and the bathtub making me crawl into a ball on my bed and sink far away.

I needed another plan. One, I thought, that involved Damon’s old friends. They could stop him.

They would stop him for me.

“Mikhail?” I said louder.

My phone was still downstairs—hopefully fully charged, given that it was almost eight at night—but I heard a whine and veered into my father’s room, instead.

I heard the faucet run in the master bath, but I didn’t give a shit if Damon was in there or not.

“Mikhail.”

My dog’s wet nose hit my leg, and he breathed happily, licking my fingers.

I knelt down, smiling and relieved. “Hey.” I petted and hugged him, the dreariness of the last couple of days gone all of a sudden.

Thank you, thank you, thank you…

I’d been pretty sure Damon wouldn’t have taken him out and had him shot, but tears sprang to my eyes, so happy he wasn’t gone for good.

“Why were you in here?” I scolded in a playful tone, taking his collar in my hand and standing up. “Stay away from him, boy.”

“Ke nighg-ya,” an order came from the bathroom, Russian again.

Mikhail pulled out of my grasp and ran away, the nails of his paws tapping against the bathroom tiles.

“Mikhail?” I said sterner.

“The dog was a mistake,” Damon said. “He won’t protect you from me. I know how to handle him. I know how to get things to obey me.”

“Give him to me.”

“Sure,” he chirped. “Take him. If you can.”

“Mikhail,” I demanded, tapping my leg. “Mikhail, come here!”

But my dog didn’t move, not a single jingle from his leash or sound of his nails.

My chin trembled, but I refused to cry.

But before I got a chance to spin around and walk away, Damon grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the bathroom. I resisted, trying to pull away and noticing he was only in a towel as he pressed me against the sink and shoved a long piece of metal in my hands.

“What is this?” I asked as he wrapped his fist around mine, forcing me to hold it.

The scent of shaving cream filled the space, and the steam of his shower crawled into my pores.

“Do you want to know how I control him?” Damon asked.

I didn’t give a shit…

“Food,” he explained. “Most animals, including humans, can be controlled by a system of consequences and rewards.”

Something hit the ground, I heard Mikhail move, and his jaws yapped as he ate whatever Damon tossed him.

“We want to eat, so we do what we need to in order to be fed,” he said. “And all animals have that in common. They can’t synthesize their own nourishment, so they easily become subject to whoever provides it. It’s how animals are domesticated. How humans can be enslaved in soul-draining jobs and relationships.” He leaned in, his breath wafting over my face. “We all need to eat, Winter.”

I jerked my head, trying to pull away from him again.

“And humans are complex,” he went on. “More than just our stomachs need to be fed.”

He raised my hand, and whatever was in it, to his face, and even though I gritted my teeth, trying to pull away, he forced it against his skin and glided it up his neck to his jaw. He forced my hand, and I stopped fighting as it grated against his stubble. Then he lowered my hand to the sink behind me, rinsing it clean.

A razor. A straight razor. I brought up my other hand, carefully feeling the object in my hand. Cool and metal, the blade was smooth and sharp, while the handle featured filigree etchings, making for an easier grip. Was it an antique? No one used these anymore.

He lifted me up and planted my ass on the counter, his hand on both sides of me.

“Keep going,” he said in a low voice.

Keep going? Did he want to die today? Or did he think I wouldn’t use this on him?

“Why?” I asked him. “So you can prove how well I can do what I’m told? Like a dog?” I put my free hand on his chest, trying to keep him from getting too close. “I don’t need you to feed me.”

“Maybe I need you to feed me.”

What did that mean?

“Do it,” he urged.

I held the blade, liking how easily the handle fit in my fist, and loving how he was right in front of me, putting a weapon in my hand, and this could all end now.

Did he trust me? Or did he think he could stop me in time?

He was definitely testing me. Seeing how much I did or didn’t hate him.

And he was willing to put himself in danger to find out.

All of a sudden, I felt like I did the night I drove his car all those years ago.

Like I was dangerous.

“I’ll cut you,” I warned him.

“Yeah.”

“And if I slit your throat?”

He breathed a laugh. “My kind of fun has a price, remember?”

I stopped breathing for a moment, remembering those words. Remembering that he was him. My ghost. The one I kissed and made love to.

At first those words had filled me with dread, because it meant he’d had no limit. Then they excited me, because I wanted adventures with the boy I thought I loved.

I brought my free hand up and gripped his face, tipping it back and keeping it still. Then I drifted my fingers down his neck, feeling where the skin was smooth and already shaven and where the shaving cream still sat.

“Come in, closer,” I told him.

He did, forcing me to spread my legs as his fingers brushed the outside of my thighs, bare in my sleep shorts. I ignored the goosebumps that spread over my skin.

Bringing the blade up slowly, I felt his chest start to rise and cave with shallow breaths, and I damn near smiled, because, if even just a little, he was nervous.

Finding the position with my thumb, I put the blade to his skin and pressed, increasing the pressure just a little more than I should have and feeling him suck in a breath.

It was his turn to be scared.

I let it sit there for a moment, feeling the air grow thick between us as he waited for what I was going to do with the blade pressed to his neck. Were his eyes cast down on me, watching me? Was he waiting for it? Was he ready for it?

I held it there for another moment and then…glided the blade up his neck, shaving it.

He held his breath for a moment and then exhaled softly as the blade left his neck.

Running my fingers over the strip I just shaved, I felt smooth skin. Skin I’d had my lips on when I’d thought he was someone else.

Rinsing off the blade, I took his face again, shoving it back to where I had it, because he’d dropped it again—probably to watch me.

He stood there silently as I slowly dragged the blade up his throat, the grainy sound filling the room and everything in the distance fading away. My hand shook with the knowledge that at any moment I could cut him.

Deep.

He would deserve it. After what he did to me…

After being everything I craved and needed, he made me fall in love with him, but come to find out, I’d fallen for a lie. A boy who treated me badly and found out how easy it was to hide right under my nose and get me to fuck him. Did he laugh about it after with his friends? Did he have fun?

My eyes pooled with tears as I shaved another strip, the tension in my hand making it ache as I gripped the razor so tightly.

How could he lie like that? The way he was… The words, the kissing, the shower, the way he held me and acted so sad sometimes, the desperation in his body when he took mine over and we were lost in the heat and the need to feel each other…. How could he lie so well? Young girls weren’t hard-hearted. He had to know how easily I would fall. Did he think it would be funny when he got my hopes up and played with me like that? Did he laugh at how pathetic the little blind girl was to think he loved her?

He sucked in a short breath, and I stopped, my tears threatening to spill over as I realized I’d cut him.

He didn’t say anything, though, and he didn’t move. I sat there, my hand in mid-air under his chin as I waited. I actually hadn’t meant to do that. Was it bad?

I heard him swallow and then he said, “Keep going.” But it came out as a whisper.

I blinked away the tears and loosened my grip, trying to relax.

“What’s all the noise downstairs?” I asked him.

“Extra security.”

“To keep me locked in?”

“To keep you safe,” he corrected in a coy tone.

I was sure the disdain was visible on my face. But then I remembered how he denied being in the theater bathroom and Crane denied that anyone was in the house this morning when I ran to St. Killian’s. They had no reason to lie. Was I in more danger than I thought? Was someone else after me? Enemies my father made or something?

I quieted, almost afraid of his answer when I asked, “Is my family really in the Maldives?”

“Yes,” he said.

Pain pricked at the back of my throat.

And while it was unusual my mother was on his honeymoon and not him, I knew why. He had no interest in the Maldives. Everything that interested him was here.

“Why would my mother leave me with you?”

“Because she’s a cunt.”

My hand shook a little, part of me angry and part of me wanting to cry. She left me. She actually left me. Did she fight? Sob? Have to be forced out the door at least? Did he offer her anything? Was she supposed to be back soon?

Why did she let him convince her to leave?

Because she’s a cunt.

My chin trembled for a moment, almost appreciating the genuine anger in his voice. He’d done this. He’d sent them away.

But even though he did what he thought he had to do to get what he wanted, he still didn’t have any respect for my mother for giving in to him. What kind of parent…

“Where do you go when you’re not here?” I pried, changing the subject. “Are you really going into the city? Or New York? Where?”

Or were you close? Always close.

He was gone a lot, and it hadn’t escaped my notice that he barely stayed here at night. Where the hell was he sleeping?

Maybe he had another woman. Another woman other than my sister, I meant.

He hissed again, and I knew I’d cut him again.

Shit.

But he still didn’t move or speak, just breathed, exhaling slow, almost like a sigh of relief.

“Keep going,” he whispered, sounding breathless and raspy this time.

Heat rolled off him, and I could feel his chest under my hand, the slow, steady breaths almost sounding calm and spent, like he enjoyed it.

He liked being cut?

Or he liked the fear?

Again, I was reminded of the night driving his car. I’d loved how he didn’t get mad at my mistakes and waited for me to do things at my pace. Just like now. He wasn’t mad I cut him.

But maybe there was something in it for him, too. He enjoyed toying with death. Fear made us feel alive.

I finished with his neck and rinsed off the blade. “Bend forward a little,” I told him. “I can’t reach your face.”

He came in as close as he could, pressing between my legs, and tipped his head down at me, our bodies chest to chest. His warmth spread across my face with him only inches away, and I felt self-conscious. “Don’t stare at me.”

I could feel his shitty little smile.

Finding my position, I slid the blade up the side of his face, going with the grain, because my father did it that way, and Damon didn’t say to do it differently. I shaved one cheek and moved the other, grazing my fingers over his skin to feel for any missed spots.

His warm breath hit my forehead, the heat of his body everywhere, and I knew he was looking down at me, but I suddenly didn’t want to tell him to stop, because for a split second, I remembered how good his arms and hands felt. Even if it was a lie, I let myself enjoy the intimacy I’d been starved for. For just a moment.

I ran the blade down his skin, shaving everywhere I felt stubble. His cheeks, his chin, above his top lip, and below his bottom one, and I dragged my fingers over every inch of jawline to feel for anything I’d missed, and after seconds of my hand on him, I was drawn back to the ballroom seven years ago when he let me look at him with my hands.

Nothing had changed.

I set the blade down and brought both hands up to cup his face. “Just need to check,” I told him, but it came out so soft I wasn’t sure he heard me.

I touched him, grazing my fingertips across his cheekbones, down to his jaw, up his neck, and over the hollows of his cheeks. He moved into it, meeting my touch by cocking his head and turning it, giving me complete access as I checked my work, and then his words came back to me from all that time ago.

Want to check the rest of my body?

Absently, my fingers fell down his neck, and I dug my fingers in just a little, because I wanted to touch more, and I hated myself for it.

His breathing turned labored, and he pressed his hands into the grooves of my thighs where they met my hips, kneading them.

He leaned down, his nose brushing mine as he pressed his chest into me and growled in a whisper, “Winter…”

I gripped his shoulders, feeling the ridge of his hard cock nudge me between my legs as heat pooled in my groin. My heart pounded. I wanted to run away.

And I wanted him to rip off my clothes, too.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

He fell into me, pushing me back against the mirror, and I rolled myself into him, my clit throbbing with the tease of his muscle through his towel.

And I knew…even with as good as he felt and how lonely I’d been, because I couldn’t trust anyone or myself after the humiliation of that video, once it was done, I’d hate myself. I’d hate myself for letting him have a piece of me again.

I turned away from him, pushing at his body to get free. “Get off me.”

But he stayed there a moment, breathing hard.

“Why?” he finally asked. “You seem to like me.”

“Get off me!” I snapped. “You’re not getting that from me.”

I shoved at him, putting all of my strength against his chest, but he just rumbled with a laugh.

“I’ve already had that,” he said, his voice sharp and threatening. “Now I want your sanity. Just a little turn of the screw…”

I scrambled out from underneath him, stood up, and slammed him in the chest.

He stumbled back, laughing again. “All in good—”

“Yo, Winter!” a shout damn near shook the house from downstairs. “We’re here!”

Huh?

“Who is that?” Damon demanded. “That sounds like Will.”

But he didn’t give me a chance to answer. He shot past me, and I let out a breath, relief washing over me as I remembered my talk with Will last night.

Coldfield.

I’d been talking to Will and his friend, Alex, at the party, telling them how fun the new haunted house park was and how I wanted to go back before it closed for the season.

Since I’d kind of left abruptly last time and hadn’t gotten around to everything.

They hadn’t gone yet, and so we said we’d go tonight.

I’d completely forgotten.

After the past twenty-four hours, I wasn’t in the mood for haunted houses tonight, but anywhere was better than here.

I walked out of the bathroom and master bedroom, across the landing and to the railing, showing myself to wherever they were in the foyer below.

“Why are you two here?” Damon asked them, and I startled, realizing I’d stopped next to him.

Great. I was in my pajamas, he was in a towel, and we both just came out of his bedroom. Perfect.

“None of your business,” Will told him. And then to me, “Winter, show Alex to your room. She’s going to help you get ready.”

I then heard footfalls on the stairs, getting closer.

Ready? I was capable of getting dressed on my own.

“Why do you have your mask?” I heard Damon ask Will, I would assume.

The way he said ‘your mask’ sounded like Damon had one, too. All the horsemen did, I’d heard.

“Fucker, no one’s talking to you,” Will barked back.

I snorted, and I could feel Damon fume next to me.

Will was fun. I think I liked him.

Damon didn’t have a chance to question me, though, because a cool, slender hand took my arm, and I led Alex down the hall to my bedroom, a little more excited for the night out than I was a moment ago.

I wanted a fun outfit, a drink, and some chills and thrills.

As long as none of them came from Damon Torrance.

It wasn’t just any night on the Coldfield calendar of events. It was 18 & Over Night, which meant no minors allowed, hard liquor and cocktails served, and clothing didn’t have to leave much to the imagination. Costumes encouraged.

We walked through the entrance, brandishing our All Access wristbands, and I pulled my skirt taut as much as I could, feeling a little shy. Fun outfit, indeed. Alex was interesting, and to think she got nearly everything I was wearing from my own closet.

After we’d disappeared into my bedroom, she got busy, making short work of my hair and makeup and doing my face up like some clown. Or a sexy clown, as she’d said. She painted some designs on my forehead with tear drops under my eyes and finished it off with red paint on the tip of my nose and some black lipstick outlined with white around my lips.

While I’d been asleep, I’d received a voice text from my mother, letting me know she and Ari were okay and that I was going to be fine.

No calls. No further information.

They were okay, and I was going to be fine.

Cryptic and cruel, and I didn’t understand it.

I’d tried calling both of them, but they didn’t answer, and I wasn’t sure I expected them to. What would they say, after all?

What had Damon told my mother?

Maybe he was a smooth talker and made her assurances? Maybe the financial arrangement was too good to pass up. Maybe she was just tired of fighting.

Just a little turn of the screw…

His taunt echoed in my mind again, and whatever he was planning wasn’t something by force like I’d thought. He was trying to wind his way into my head.

Alex teased and fluffed my hair, the heaven I was in with all the grooming and being touched starting to relax me, but then she went to my closet, dug out some things, and with my permission, began ripping and cutting to make me a costume.

I wore my fluffy, black miniskirt with tulle layered underneath, a strappy, leather bra she’d had with her, and the tutu torn off one of my ballet costumes from when I was little wrapped around my neck in a big collar. She dressed up my wrists with whatever I had in my armoire and sprayed some body glitter on my stomach, legs, and arms.

She tried to put heels on me but quickly realized that would be a mistake—as I’d told her it would be—and I slipped into my black Chucks instead.

But before we left the room, she remembered one last thing.

Fangs.

Sharp, smooth, and acrylic, she took out her extra set, mixed up the plaster, filled the grooves inside the two fangs, and asked me if I wanted them on my canines or incisors.

Blade or True Blood?

Blade.

Canines, it was. She fastened them on top on my real teeth, and I held them for a couple of minutes, letting the plaster dry and getting used to the feeling. The points brushed against the inside of my bottom lip, but otherwise they felt pretty functional.

I was ready.

I wasn’t sure how I looked, but Will let out a whistle when I came down, and Damon let me leave with no problem. In fact, he was unusually pleasant about the whole thing. About me going out with his friends half-naked.

It kind of gave me pause.

Have fun, he’d said in a tone more loaded than I could figure out.

Whatever. I was sure I’d deal with him later tonight.

“Drinks!” Alex called out, ordering our first stop of the evening.

People swarmed the park, squeals and screams going off around me as others ran or chased, one bumping into me, and “Bloodletting” by Concrete Blonde played from somewhere in the distance while spooky, haunted sounds of creaking doors and evil laughter drifted from the speakers around us. I inhaled, the smell of the earth hitting the back of my throat, and the kerosene from the torches going straight to my head.

I held onto Will’s arm as we made our way through a throng of people over to the liquor and food stands I smelled last time that we didn’t get a chance to try out.

“What’ll you have?” he said as we stopped. “Looks like they can do mixed drinks, shots, draft and bottled beer, wine…”

He reached into his back pocket, so I let his arm go to let him move.

“Um, beer,” I answered. “Any lager is fine. Bottle. Unopened, please.”

“Good girl.”

Yeah. And not really what I was in the mood for, but it was the only thing I was sure wouldn’t be tampered with. In a setting like this, with all these people and madness around…

“Oh, wait, I have money.” I slipped my fingers through the straps of my bra under the clown collar where I concealed my money clip and phone.

But he just laughed. “Yeah, so do I. Don’t worry about it.”

I pulled my hand back out. “Thanks.”

Really, how was he Damon’s best friend back in the day? He was so different. Did he like abuse or something?

I couldn’t picture him having Damon’s dark side.

Taking our drinks, I twisted off the top of the aluminum bottle, the condensation wetting my hand, and took a drink, followed by a few more. Even just the taste got me in the mood for this, and I started to relax.

Sound effects of howls and screams filled the air, and Alex offered me her arm as we walked to our first experience, The Tunnel of Terror.

I heard a track and the clank of bars as we waited in line, and it sounded like a ride with cars that carried us along a path. I gripped Alex’s arm a little tighter, the adrenaline already warming my heart.

So this would be something where we’re locked in, unable to run.

The line moved, and we climbed in a car, Alex first, and I followed. Will squeezed in next to me, and I raised my hands to let the belt-bar come down on us, but I accidentally knocked his mask, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I laughed.

I patted the hard plastic in a sympathetic gesture, feeling the grooves of the skull paintball mask and what felt like scars designed across it.

“Why do you think I wore the mask?” he joked.

Oh, shut up.

The ride shot off, my head bouncing against the back of the car and then veered right, swinging us around the bend so hard, we both fell over into Will. Alex squealed, and I didn’t know if the squeaks of the wheels on the track were just a sound effect or actually real, but it felt seedy and cheap—kind of corrupting—and I rubbed my thighs together, sort of liking it. We pushed through the double doors, and I felt the fog thick in the air and heard blocks of metal and chains clanking.

I felt Alex and Will both jump a couple times, followed by disgusted sounds from Alex, so there was more to see than to feel in the tunnels, but I expected it. I’d told them in the car on the way here not to narrate for me. We’d just all enjoy what we could.

A whiff of air hit my ear, followed by a bark, and I jerked, laughing.

“There’s speakers and sensors in the back of the car,” Will figured.

Other sounds drifted out—chainsaws, potions boiling, screams, and bat wings cutting through the air—and Alex inched into me, forcing me into Will. She pushed farther into my space, and I heard a whimper and guessed an actor was on her side of the car, taunting her. I laughed at her fright, feeling a little superior that I wasn’t affected as easily.

We wound through more tunnels, both of them absorbing the darkness and creepy characters in bloody costumes or masks that I didn’t see, but as soon as I’d relaxed, the car stopped.

“What is that?” Alex asked.

“I can’t see anything,” Will replied.

Okay. Guess I’d just wait.

We sat there, and I couldn’t hear any other voices around us, so they must have considerable space between the cars.

“Will, what is that?” Alex blurted out. “Right there!”

And then, all of a sudden, I heard growling. Like a feral wolf, frothing at the mouth. Was that a sound effect?

“Ah!” Alex cried out, and I tensed.

Weight hit our car, jostling the front of it, I listened as the low growling got closer and closer.

And closer.

The deep rumble of an animal, and my toes curled and my body instinctively tried to crawl into a ball, but I couldn’t with the bar over my lap.

The growling came closer and closer, the breath falling on my face, and I knew someone was standing on the front of our car and leaning down right into my face.

It was breathy and scary and vicious, and my heart pounded as he taunted me.

Alex and Will either whimpered or laughed, and if I could see him, I might’ve been scared out of my mind, but like this it was just…frightening enough. A tingle shot between my thighs, and I clenched them as I breathed hard.

The cars started moving again, and I felt him linger for a moment longer before jumping off.

“Oh, he liked you,” Will teased.

My pulse still raced, and everything was warm. I rubbed my hands down my thighs and tongued one of my fangs, wondering what was wrong with me that it was kind of a turn on.

Did I like fear?

Or did I only like it because I knew I was safe?

The ride ended, and we left the car, taking our drinks with us. I uncapped my beer, taking a gulp to cool down and clear my throat, suddenly parched.

Tossing it in the trash, we headed for the maze next, and I took Will’s arm this time, since Alex didn’t want to lead, and I refused to take up the rear.

Actors reached though walls, grabbing at us, while others stood in the passageways, lurking still and quiet for some good jump scares. Hands grabbed at my arms, and I scurried to Will’s other side, laughing, only to be attacked on that side, as well.

Of course, there were things I missed that made those two jump, but I could feel the tight space of the walls and low ceiling and smell the cold air and soil. It felt like we were underground, but I knew we weren’t.

We rounded a corner, and Will halted, quickly backing up into me and stepping on my toe.

“Ouch!” I snapped.

But I didn’t get a chance to find out what scared him. Alex screamed behind me, and Will took my hand, turning us both around to find out what was wrong.

“Hey!” he yelled. “That’s mine! Give her back!”

Huh? I inched closer to him, holding on to his arm. What was happening?

Alex’s squeals kept filling the corridor, but they started to fade, echoing from down the hall. My mouth fell open.

Did they take her? Where did she go?

Oh, my God.

“Shit, let’s go,” Will said, a laugh following.

He pulled me onto his back, and I hooked my arms around his neck, while he held me under my knees, and we ran back the way we came, going after Alex.

The actors—since they were allowed to touch us—must’ve grabbed her and carried her off.

Will bolted down the tunnel, and someone nipped at my back, growling and clawing. I cried out, squealing as I scrunched up my shoulders and hugged Will tightly. “Hurry,” I gasped. “They’re going to take me, too!”

He ran unbelievably well with someone on his back, and my heart raced a mile a minute, about to beat out of my chest in the excitement. He turned corners, listening for Alex’s screams, and the muscles in my arms and legs burned as I tried to hold onto him.

Alex’s cries sounded closer, and then I heard her.

She was laughing. “Will?” she shouted. “Oh, my God. He threw me over his shoulder like I was a feather. I thought I was going to get eaten.”

We stopped and Will let me down. I kept hold of his arm as he bent over, maybe to help her up to wherever the actor had dropped her, but we barely had time to collect ourselves before growls and loud motors filled the air and we were swarmed by what felt like ten chainsaw murderers. They came at us, nipping at our legs with their bladeless chainsaws, and we all stumbled, scurried, and veered in any direction we could to get away.

“Winter, where are you?” I heard Will shout from farther away than I thought he was.

But then, all of a sudden, he was there, grabbing my hand and pulling me away.

I breathed a sigh of relief. He walked fast, dragging me as the air blowers shot at my legs, and I laughed as the hay sack tunics the slasher killers wore brushed my arms as we passed, telling me just how close I was to getting caught. Chills spread across my body, and my pulse went wild, unable to contain the frenzy of danger and the intoxication in my head it created. I was high from it.

We turned right and then right again, and as the noise fell away and no one came at us anymore, he slowed his walk, pulling me around walls and passageways in the maze.

I panted, still holding his hand but bringing my free one up to his mask and feeling it. “That’s you, right?”

Just making sure.

I still laughed a little but relaxed when I felt the hard plastic skull with grooves.

“This is so much fun,” I told him.

Silence filled the corridor now, except for the sound effects of wind howling, a heart beating, and clocks chiming drifting out of the speakers, his hand tightening around mine as we walked. I didn’t mind. He wasn’t doing it because I couldn’t see. He probably did it, so I wouldn’t get stolen like Alex.

Alex.

I turned my head left and right, listening for her footsteps.

“Where’s Alex?” I asked.

She was with us, wasn’t she? He only grabbed me for a quick escape.

But just then, I stepped in something wet, my foot sloshing in something on the ground.

“Oh, yuck.” I stepped away, inching into him to get away from whatever the pool was on the ground. Smelled like vodka. Someone must’ve spilled their drink.

Wrapping his arm around my waist, he picked me up, and I circled my arms around his neck as he carried me over it.

“Thanks,” I told him.

But he didn’t put me down.

My legs dangled as he slowly walked, the sound of his breathing through his mask even, like a machine.

Awareness made the hairs rise on my skin, and I felt so dizzy all of a sudden. My voice barely registered above a whisper. “I can walk now.”

He still didn’t put me down, though. Instead, he hefted me up so my legs circled his waist, and the realization that the man in my arms wasn’t Will washed over me in a panic so savory it sank down low in my belly, warming every inch of my body.

He carried me, his steps perfectly paced and heavy, echoing in the hallway like they were coming for me and knew exactly where I was hiding.

This wasn’t Will.

I knew it even before I slipped my fingers into the back of his hair and felt the same little scars I’d come across years ago.

But in this moment, in the dark where I was someone else and he was someone else, I didn’t pull away.

Why wasn’t I pulling away?

God, he felt good.

In my arms. I’d almost forgotten.

For just a few minutes, he was my ghost back in the house.

Taunting me.

Playing with me.

Making me feel things I wanted to feel.

I’d missed this so much.

I locked my ankles behind his back and held my head in front of his, quiet and calm on the outside but every emotion I’d ever had raging on the inside. I wasn’t sure if he could see where he was walking, but it seemed like we both were on auto-pilot.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked him quietly.

But he just kept silent.

His heart beat against my chest, and I matched my breathing to his, fear and fantasy taking me over as the foggy air soaked into my skin and the sounds of the haunted carnival outside waged on without us. Heat pooled between my legs, and I barely noticed when an actor jumped out at us, trying to scare me.

They dug their fingers into my back, screeching, but I just kept holding on to him, wanting to stay like this, because this scared me more and I liked the fear.

What was he going to do to me?

We trailed down a long hall, another actor grabbing at us, but I just clutched him tighter, my forehead against the forehead of his mask as my fangs dug into my bottom lip and my pussy throbbed.

“Will you say anything?” I whispered.

Where was he taking me? Where were my friends?

But really, I didn’t care. I just felt like I should.

He wasn’t my enemy in here. He was my secret shame.

Marilyn Manson’s “Cry Little Sister” played through the speakers outside, and he hefted me up again, his stomach pressed between my legs. I whimpered as his hands gripped my ass.

Oh, God.

My lips hovered over the mouth of his mask, and I dug my fingers into the back of his neck, aching with need and groaning under my breath.

The next thing I knew, we were through another door and then another, and I let him carry me into a quiet room that smelled of wet straw and flannel. He pulled me off him, sending me falling onto a pile of hay, and I sucked in a breath, a scream lodged in my throat and instinct kicking in as I scurried backward to get away from him.

The slow, gentleness from him a moment ago was now gone.

I crawled backward, hearing the noise and music outside, but he caught my ankle and pulled me back to him. My stomach somersaulted as he flipped me over, knocking the air out of me as he hauled me up on my knees.

My chest pumped with shallow breaths, and my fight kicked in as I scrambled to my feet and bolted.

But he caught me from behind, wrapping an arm around my waist and picking me up. My head fell back against his shoulder as he reached between us and undid the belt fastening Alex’s bondage bra that I wore.

His rough hands, the partygoers outside on the other side of the wall, his silence, my costume, his mask…everything turned me on, and in this little room, we took hold of our little world where only the two of us lived and dared to sink deep, if only for a few minutes where no one would know.

Air hit my nipples as the bra fell away, and in the next moment, I was on my feet again, his hands pawing my breasts.

I gasped, my eyes closing at the pleasure of being touched there, but then I heard something hit the ground, and his teeth came in, sinking into my neck.

I cried out, unable to control the roll of my hips, because I needed him inside me as my legs nearly gave out under me. The heat of his mouth poured over my skin like hot syrup, and the pain was just enough to bring every other inch of my skin to full awareness. Everywhere he touched was sensitive, feeling like a flaming torch over my body. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want anything else.

I reached back, touching his face, now free of the mask, and he left my neck, gripping my hair and yanking my head back. I was completely immobile as he chewed at my lips, kneaded my breasts, and flicked one of my fangs with his tongue.

His breath almost sounded like a growl as he seethed, as completely lost as me.

Picking me up, he spun me around, bringing us both down onto the ground. I landed on my hands and knees, and tried to rise, but he pushed me back down.

I heard the jingle of his belt and then his zipper, and my arms shook under me, and I couldn’t breathe. I’d never done it this way.

He knocked my knees wider, gripped my hips, and yanked me back to him, the hard flesh of his cock pressing into me.

A moan escaped me, and I could already feel how wet I was.

He grabbed hold of my panties and ripped them away, the fabric stretching and tearing off my body. He took hold of himself, crowned me, and before I could say anything, he slid inside me, burying himself deep and filling me so good my knees quaked.

“Ah,” I whimpered, going rigid for a moment to adjust.

The spot he hit deep inside sent a wave of pleasure to the rest of my body, everything tingling and buzzing, and I heard his labored breaths behind me as he gave into it, too.

He didn’t wait long, though. Squeezing my hips where they met my thighs, he started pumping, hard and fast, and I fumbled my hands on the hay-covered floor to keep myself on my knees.

All I could do was try not to fall as he thrust into me in short, quick attacks, filling me up with his size and warmth, and then pulling back out to do it again.

God, he felt so good. My body jerked, and he panted and grunted as he fucked me harder and harder, and I licked my parched lips, tasting the clown makeup I still wore.

After a moment, his hoodie was gone, and I wanted to turn around to feel him. To feel his chest against mine, but the deeper he hit, the stronger my orgasm built, and after less than a minute, my stomach started shaking, fireworks started to spark deep inside me, and I held my breath, letting the orgasm explode all over my body. I felt the skin of my nipples tighten and harden, and I cried out, but kept it under my breath, because I didn’t know where we were or how secluded this place was.

Lost in a daze, I felt him grip my hair and pull my head back up, forcing my back to arch more and my ass to stick out farther for him. He drove violently, pumping me hard and fast until he, too, started to grunt, growing more strained as he started to come.

He jerked into me several more times, and then one final thrust as he spilled, breathing so loud and so spent, I was sure he might fall down on top of me.

But he didn’t.

He stayed there, buried inside me for another minute, tightening and untightening his fist in my hair and calming his body. My scalp burned from where he pulled my hair, but I didn’t even care, I was so tired.

And in the minute as things calmed and my desire and every other overwhelming emotion I’d just felt left, I couldn’t help but think one thing.

I’d let it happen. Again.

With all the men in the world, why did I hate myself so much that he was the only one, in the heat of the moment, I wanted?

Pulling away from him, unwelcome cool air now filling where he’d just been, I scooted away and pulled a piece of the tulle off the inside of my skirt, trying to clean up best I could.

Tears stung the back of my throat, feeling the heat of his cum seeping out of me. I needed a bathroom.

I heard him move and refasten his jeans and belt and then the lid of a lighter opening and closing as he lit a cigarette.

“You came inside me,” I told him.

He blew out smoke, not saying anything for a moment.

“And?” he finally answered, Damon’s voice strong and sure.

“And the whole town knows all the beds you’ve been in,” I spat out.

“Like yours, you mean?”

Yeah, years ago.

He let out a sigh and then my bra hit me in the chest as he tossed it. I grabbed it just before it fell. “My father wants his grandchildren, Winter.”

My stomach sank, anger and shame burning my face. Oh, God, if I got pregnant…

I quickly went through the calendar in my head, remembering I’d just had my period last week. It should be okay.

As much as I wanted to be mad at him, though, I could’ve stopped him. I just didn’t think about it.

I stood up and slipped my bra back on, but unable to fasten it. “I will never have your children,” I told him.

It was Damon. It was my sister’s husband. And I’d rather die than raise a family under his thumb. He’d be a terrible father.

But I felt him approach and stop just in front of me, his deep voice quiet but steady. “You’re going to have lots of my children,” he informed me.

And then he brushed past me, leaving the room, and I stood there, unable to move as his words lingered in the air.

I hated him. I hated who I turned into with him.

How could I have just done that? Why did I do it? He didn’t force me. I could’ve run. I didn’t even think to say no. I didn’t want to say no. It was like we were animals, for Christ’s sake.

Red.

Anger, fury, heat, and need so strong you’re a fucking animal, Winter. It’s primal.

So that was red. I’d wanted to do it. I loved the flames. I had dived in.

But now, the pain of the burns.

I hated him.

“Hey,” I heard Alex as she closed the door. “We just saw Damon. He said you were in here.” And then she touched my arm, and I could hear the ice jingle in her drink. “Baby, I’m so sorry we lost you. Are you okay? Shit.”

Judging from her reaction, I must look a sight. My makeup was probably everywhere.

“It’s okay,” I mumbled. I couldn’t explain it right now.

“Are you okay?” she prodded again, probably just wanting to know if I was hurt.

I just turned around. “Would you please refasten me?”

She let out a sigh, seeing clearly that my bra had been off. “Did he hurt you?”

She tugged at me as she pulled the belt of the clasp tight again, and I no longer had the energy to muster any tears.

“Not as much as I hurt myself,” I told her.