Shadowface

Chapter 11

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

SUMMER

H e is leaning against a wall, approximately ten feet away, with the mask over his head like everyone else. His arms are crossed, biceps flexed, and he is wearing tight-fitted black pants, his shirt showing off his toned, pale arms. His head is tilted down.

My breathing stalls as I behold him. Evil is rippling off him like a sexy shadow, because that’s exactly what he is.

He is death.

I stay squatted down, my three-inch heels sinking slightly into the sticky, warm floor. A sharp, sickeningly sweet smell stings my nostrils; the drugs made the stench overpowering to my senses. Yet, I can’t bring myself to rise or face him. He slowly raises his head, and my heart jolts as we make eye contact.

I’m still wildly out of breath, my heart pattering. I can’t stop staring at him, and my pussy clenches at the thought that this could be the man who took my virginity two years before.

The pulsing is like fire in my veins.

I miss it—I miss him. I miss his constant presence in my dreams.

He doesn’t move, either, so we stare at each other for a few long seconds. The swirl of burlap masks surrounds my vision, but I keep my attention focused solely on him. For a moment, I think I’m just being crazy, and he’s not really looking at me. Then he raises his arms and gives me a little wave, and his lips curve beneath the mask into a cruel, evil smile.

My nameless monster.

Panic sets in.

Despite my desire for this… entity , he is dangerous. There is a missing girl, and he’s hinted she’s within his clutches.

If I wasn’t so high, I’d run. But running is futile, and I want him to come speak to me. His goal doesn’t seem to include killing me, and I won’t be some cliché by running out into the woods so he can chase me and get off on it.

I will never run from him.

He walks toward me and all my confidence shatters. I pull myself up, wobble on my high heels, steadying myself on the wall behind me. I want to be sure-footed for this.

He moves with grace and ease, and with a self-assurance I don’t remember from the nerdy kid sitting at my dinner table all those years ago, if they are indeed the same person.

His body is incredibly attractive. Tall, lean, and filled out in all the right places, but not in a jock way like Grant’s, where he was born with size. SF seems more… deliberate. Not at all like the scrawny nerd I thought he would be.

I scan his body, thinking back to class. Thinking back to Lincoln.

Their resemblance is uncanny…just not his movements, but his motions.

The lights are flashing, and it’s as if I merely blink and he’s stalking toward me, towering over me. He smells like spice, and after being on a sweaty dance floor for the past hour, his aroma is incredible.

And exactly how I remember.

I close my eyes and breathe in his scent, and when I open them, I meet his heavy stare with one of my own.

I’m staring at a devil—a really sexy devil who threatened to cut out my tongue. My heart is hammering now; his mere presence suffocates me and my body is like jelly.

I’m so close to him, I can make out his eyes through the holes in his mask. Dark brown, the blacks of them so black, yet in the flashing light, they are almost translucent.

His eyes seem different. Or maybe I’m just extremely high, and my vision is flickering.

I tilt my head up, and my mouth falls open as I actively study him. I’m mesmerized by him and can’t help but reach out and run my finger along his collarbone, playing with the edge of it, testing how far I can pull off his mask and expose him.

One more inch…

He leans down, cupping my hands with his. “You’re high, Summer.” His voice is exactly how it was on the phone

That deep, sexy voice.

Except… this isn’t him.

A crash of disappointment before a wave of euphoria hits me, as I’m reminded of how flawed I am for wanting the monster so desperately. The one who threatens. The one who kills.

His hands grip my waist and I sway into him, toppling over on my heels I clearly can’t handle wearing at the moment.

I look up and press my hand into his abdomen, petting him with my fingers as I stare daringly into his eyes. Just as I suspect, his abs are rock hard and his shirt is soft.

So soft…

His body is delicious.

“Yeah. So?” I breathe, the waves hitting me at full force now. The flickering lights make it seem like I’m in outer space. Even if I wanted to fear this man, I don’t think it’s physically possible right now.

His chest rises and falls as he takes in my sorry state. “You need water. Come with me.”

I yank my hand away. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Oh, the lies I tell myself. I’d follow this man into the depths of hell right now if he asked me to.

He grabs my hand softly, the calluses of his hand teasing my soft skin. His softness lasts for only a moment before I fall into his muscled body and all the memories come flashing back again.

His warmth and breath mingled with mine. The soft whispers. The deviant threats.

I run my hand through my hair.

Something tugs at my gut, my intuition spiking.

This isn’t him…

This is not the same man who snuck into my room at night. Nothing about him is familiar, other than the voice.

The voice…the same voice as when we were studying. Tears prick the backs of my eyes as confusion settles in.

He runs his thumb softly over my brow and leans into my ear so I can hear him. “I wasn’t asking, Summer.” The moment of intensity is over. I part my lips to say something, but I have no words as he pulls me into the crowd.

I stumble behind him as he effortlessly weaves through people, and they move out of his way as if he’s liquid. He keeps his grip firm on my hand as he pulls me through the hordes of masks and half-naked bodies dancing and grinding.

People bump into me from every angle, so he wraps his arm around my lower back and pulls me through, as if protecting me, keeping me close.

I clutch onto him as if he’s my saviour.

Everyone here is high, I realize. Just as messed up as I am following my stalker.

Except him. He doesn’t seem messed up at all. At least not with the help of any substance. He’s got that down all on his own.

He leads me to a bucket of ice near the side of the room and grabs a bottle of water, then leads me to another hallway. He corners me, presses me into the back of the room where I can’t see anyone and no one can see me. I’m pretty sure there is a couple fucking somewhere close to us. A girl moans over the music.

He moves in close, his lips teasing my ear. “Drink this,” he orders. “The whole thing.”

I glare at him but down the entire bottle, closing my eyes and enjoying the cool liquid in my throat. When I finish, I lean my head back against the wall, enjoying the reverberations of the music while he merely watches me through the darkness.

The tension between us is blistering hot. My heart rate jolts with every moment that passes, mirroring the beat of the music pounding around me.

I suck in a breath as he reaches out and plays with a lock of my white hair and moves his hands to my hip bone. His fingers are like fire as he runs his thumb over the bit of skin I have showing on my hip, and heat swells between my legs as I open them slightly for him. Like he is going to touch me down there.

He’s holding back. Not touching me the way I think he wants to.

I stare up at him, wide-eyed and curious. “Say something,” I demand.

His lips curl beneath his mask. “I don’t like that he gave you drugs, Summer. And I like it even less that you took them. It could kill you, and he could have taken advantage of you.”

I bark out a laugh and rest my head against the wall. “Maybe I want to be taken advantage of. Maybe I want someone to do nasty things to me,” I say over the beat of the music, my chest heaving.

A dare. I’m daring him.

I’m so horny, I’d let this man ravage and fuck me right here. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched. Since I’ve wanted to be touched by anyone.

I fold my arms. “I’m a big girl now. But you know that, since you touched me when I was a young one. And why do you care if it kills me? Isn’t that what you’re pretending to be…a killer?”

He leans closer and his breath whispers against my cheek, causing my nerves to fire up. “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t want to see you dead; I want to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I mock. “Protect me from who? From you? Because all I’ve seen are nude pictures of me and a missing girl who lives hours away. No dead bodies anywhere. I think you’re a joke.”

He watches me carefully before answering. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that the girl who is missing looks exactly like you?”

Chills run up my spine and anger builds inside me. The blonde hair… I was hoping it was a coincidence.

I lift myself up onto my tiptoes, my lips gently brushing against the burlap sack. “I’m right here,” I whisper and his body tenses. “You didn’t need to take her.”

His body shifts and I so desperately wish I could read his face. “I didn’t take her,” he responds. “He did.”

More riddles.

The water helped regulate me, but I’m still dizzy, still rolling. His fingers dig into me, steadying me, helping me calm myself.

I stare up at his mask, the cherry lips I can see through the hole in his mouth, and his whole vibe. I told Dani I’d never make out with a man whose face I’ve never seen, yet that is exactly what I want to do.

And I hate myself for it.

He tilts his head, grabs my face, and rubs his fingers over my cheek. My body salivates and pulses. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I squint at him and purse my lips. “What do you mean? Everyone else is here. It’s a party.”

He stares at me and a tug pulls at me. A twinge. “I mean at Kinsmen, this town… You shouldn’t be here; you took the bait.”

I blink at him. “What bait?”

My scholarship…he must be talking about my scholarship.

His hand finds my hair. “You should run.”

“Why?” I yell louder. Grittier.

I swallow hard, not wanting to believe what I’m hearing. The realization that he’s rejecting me causes my teeth to grind and my vision to turn red.

He doesn’t get to reject me.

His eyes swirl as he keeps his gaze focused on me. “Because I can’t protect you while you’re here.”

“I don’t want you to protect me,” I taunt him, my voice dripping with defiance. “I want you to follow through with what you’ve always promised, what you’ve said to me repeatedly… Kill me, you motherfucker.”

His eyes flicker some more, as if mirroring the lights above. “Be careful, Summer. If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll wake him up.”

Wake him up? Why does he keep talking like there are two of them?

Motionless…he’s motionless. His eyes are dead now, and blind terror pulses through me at the clear and sudden shift within him.

“Summer…”

I stare into his eyes through the mask. His pupils are black, the whites of them glowing.

“You might want to run…”

Jesus.

With a sharp jerk, I wildly look for a way out. Before I can react, his hands clamp down on my hair, forcing my head up. My face is an inch from his, and in one second, something flips within him. His grip is so tight as his breath tickles my cheek. The pressure is so intense, it feels as though my neck might snap. I whimper, helpless and still so fucking high. The tension between us is so brittle.

My precious life is so meaningless to him as I hang in his deathly balance. He went from wanting to protect me to hurting me in a matter of seconds.

He lowers his hand and squeezes my hip, dipping dangerously close to my waistline, and I buck my hips so he has no choice but to feel me. My breath lengthens, and I can’t stop the pulsing of desire building from within.

My eyes blaze into his. “What will he do to me?”

“I’ll cut out your eyes, pretty girl,” he whispers.

M y teeth find my bottom lip and the pressure inside me mounts.

He’s different…his voice has audibly shifted.

I’m completely mesmerized as I stare at someone completely different from who I was just with. My nameless monster.

My body melts when I finally touch him again. His warmth melts my skin as my body starts to unravel.

He slowly presses me harder against the wall, his dark energy radiating off him—unlike a few seconds earlier, when he was much more controlled.

Whoever this is, he’s seething. His body is tight, rigid, and about to explode.

Trapped between him and the concrete, I wrap my hands around his waist, my head hitting the wall. My leg rises and I wrap my knee around his midsection. The pressure inside me is now excruciating.

“Are you real?” I whisper as the song shifts. The relentless music pounds, the rave storming around us in blinking lights and bodies everywhere.

He doesn’t respond, no more dirty threats, so I decide to see for myself. I run my hands along his sides, and he lets me caress him in my drugged-up state. I lift the back of his shirt, and my hands find his smooth muscles. I scrape my fingernails along his flesh and his body flinches as if he’s ticklish.

His fingers, which have not left my middle, squeeze my hips as I catch my breath and finally lay my forehead against his chest. For unexplainable reasons, being in his arms gives me a sense of safety.

For the first time since my father died, I feel like I’m home. We stay like this, locked with each other, for a few seconds, and I keep moving my hands along his back.

He likes it, I realize. He likes me touching him, which is why he isn’t moving.

My heart is doing backflips, but I can sense he’s not giving me full control, only a moment, so I seize it.

I stare up at his black pupils through the mask. I bite the inside of my cheek as I dig my nails into his flesh. He doesn’t react so I keep doing it, and I enjoy hurting him.

I’m not okay with what he did to me. I’m not okay that he left me like that for as long as he did. I’m not okay with him making me doubt my sanity by making me think he wasn’t real. Maybe if I can make him bleed, then I can prove he exists.

His hard body, every hard edge, molds into mine. His erection presses up against my belly as I keep digging.

He gently removes my hand after a few seconds, freeing my nails from his flesh. Our gaze connects, filled with anger on both ends, and he wipes the small stream of blood from his back, smudging it across my face with his thumb. As he rubs the blood onto my lips, my mouth slightly opens, allowing the metallic taste to enter. His pupils flare and I hold my breath, knowing he’ll likely kill me now.

At least I got the last word in.

He retreats a step and admires me. He looks at me in a way I can only describe as disgust blended with equal parts desire. I’m not sure how it’s possible for me to hate him, fear him, and want him in the same breath.

“You’re so fucking pretty with blood on your face,” he finally says, and I melt at those words. His teeth grind, his voice laced with acid. “I hate how pretty you are.”

This version of him sounds younger. Like he doesn’t have a good sense of his words, and all he can do is tell me how pretty I am.

My heart flutters and my hands find his mask again, but he stops me—and not in the soft way he did before. This time, his grip hurts.

I squirm beneath him. “Why don’t you show me your face?”

He plays with my fingers, intertwining them with his before he grabs my cheeks, squeezing them hard. His fingers feel like they might burn through my skin. He tilts my head back, forcing me to look at those dark, yet mesmerizing eyes.

“You’re not ready to see me yet.”

I push him back, but his body is like stone. “I deserve to know who you are,” I whisper, my breath catching in my throat. “Tell me why you’re doing this?”

His fingers brush my cheek, a feather-light touch before finding my lips. “I’m doing this to make you suffer for what you did, pretty girl.”

What I did?

“I haven’t done anything,” I bite at him.

He barks out a laugh. “That’s my point, baby. You didn’t do anything. You didn’t tell anyone what you saw.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as that flicker of a memory comes back. Not the boy at the kitchen table, but another memory…the missing memory. It’s a black hole, a tiny flicker that I can’t quite grasp. But it’s there… And it’s caused me to have nightmares my entire life.

He watches my clear torment and confusion with amusement.

Something flashes in his hands. My heart stammers as he presses the edge of the razor blade into my cheek, running the blade along my cheekbone.

He drops my hands, and I can almost hear my heart pounding louder than the music.

“Let me go or I’ll scream,” I tell him.

He softens and I can see a hint of a cruel smile, the outline of his perfect white teeth. Just pure emotion radiating from under that mask.

Hatred. Desire. Pure evil.

I refuse to touch him anymore, even though I instinctively want to wrap my hands around his waist and pull him closer. I let my hands fall to my sides.

He backs off, then chuckles. “No one will hear you or care. I could do anything I want to you right now, pretty girl. You came here knowing I’d be here, didn’t you?”

He has a point. Everyone here is dressed the same, so no one knows it’s me. The couple a few feet away are basically full-on fucking now. My hands I can control, my body I can’t. My hips shift and I grind against him, even as I turn my head away from him in clear defiance.

His breath is heavy as his demeanor shifts. I squeeze my eyes shut as he runs the blade down my body, cutting a diagonal edge of the fabric in the front of my shirt. One breast falls out, my nipple taut. I freeze, not daring to move. When I open my eyes again, he runs the blade down my belly with such precision to the point it tickles. He keeps his gaze locked on my exposed flesh.

The music shifts, causing my breath to catch, and instead of running his other hand over my breast, he tilts his head and gazes at me. As my hair falls over my chest, a sense of euphoria overwhelms me with him looking at me that way.

It’s messed up how much I enjoy him watching me. Even more messed up is the fact that he could end my life right now, and I’d find pleasure in it.

He’s playing with the blade like it’s a toy, shifting it in between his fingers. I gasp as he cuts the fabric between my legs, revealing the lace underwear I have on underneath.

My breath hitches, shallow and uneven, as he slips his fingers inside me, moving over the lace of my panties.

“You have such a dirty little fucked-up mind, don’t you, baby?” he says, watching my reaction. “So turned on by death.”

I bite my lip; my nausea returns despite the pleasure coursing through me. I moan as he hooks his finger right into my g-spot and rubs his hand in a circle.

He’s so different than he was even five minutes ago, like a whole new person is hiding in that darkness. His motions are soft and deliberate, my body tensing and melting all at once.

Keeping his fingers inside me, he lifts my body, cupping my ass in one hand. I have no choice but to wrap my legs around him, the pressure building to the point it’s torturous.

He lifts his mask for only a moment, just above his lips. He leans in and kisses me, soft and sensual—and it’s nothing like the vile things he’s saying to me. His tongue playfully dances with mine, and my primal instinct is to kiss him back. It’s orgasmic, so hot like a dream.

He fucks me against the wall with his fingers, holding me with one arm. I want so badly for him to fuck me, while the other part of me knows I need to push him away.

He senses my conflicted thoughts and squeezes me. His kiss leaving me absolutely breathless.

“You’re mine, Summer,” he reminds me. “You’ve always been mine. And if you let anyone else touch you, I’ll kill him.”

He moves his fingers in small circles. “Say it, pretty girl.”

“I’m yours,” I whimper.

That seems to satisfy him.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask as he pulls his fingers out and in again, rubbing me, then adding one more finger and causing another moan to escape.

“I’ll do whatever I want with you. I will slice up that pretty neck of yours or cut out your eyes. But before I do, I’ll take my time with you and fuck you in every position possible before I kill you.”

His words make me come undone.

My body is vibrating as he deepens his hold on me, and I mirror every movement until we are grinding to the music. A fresh wave of the drugs hit me, and I have this desire to touch him. The fear rippling through me is like lava, causing my lower belly to burn.

Fear.

Terror.

Lust.

The sensations are overwhelming, and I can no longer tell the difference.

His lips curl to that smirk as he leans into me again.

I become entranced by the music as the lights flicker around me. His intoxicating scent engulfs me. I invite his fingers to explore me, and we move together until my body pulses and explodes, and my moans harmonize with the girl nearby.

Even after my orgasm subsides, his fingers remain deeply embedded in me. I catch my breath and wrap my arms around his neck, getting a good grasp of his body, but before I can get a good grip, he drops me.

I fall right to the floor in a crumpled mess, my breast hanging out, the fabric of my pants torn, my hair frazzled and sweaty, and my pussy still pulsing.

He stands over me and smiles…

My heart flutters looking in the eyes of a killer. I curl myself against the wall to create some distance from him, my face heating from the fact I just got off on him like that.

Something flashes, and I realize he’s still holding the razor blade and he’s playing with it between his thumb and forefinger. He crouches so he is eye level with me. He takes the blade and cuts a larger hole in the center of my pants where he cut before.

He pulls something out of his pocket, and immediately, fire flares up in his fingers. He takes his lighter and holds it against the blade, and I watch in utter horror as he heats the piece of sharp metal in his hands.

My breath is ragged, and his hands are soft as he slips his fingers inside the hole he created and presses the blade near the apex of my thigh. I try to look away, but he holds my chin and forces me to look at him.

Those translucent shimmering eyes.

The heat of the blade burns the hairs on my skin.

I let out a small cry, and he tilts his head to gauge my response to him. My gentle cries, my slight whimpering…all the confidence in myself and my doubts about him eradicated.

As our eyes lock in a tense moment, he drives the blade into my skin, the sharp sting followed by a burning sensation. He leaves a distinct mark on me in the shape of an X.

And I scream, so violently, as he keeps the blade pressed into me.

No one hears me over the chaos, and panic consumes me as my consciousness blacks out to nothing. It’s quickly replaced by pleasure as he presses his fingers back inside me for only a minute, but it’s long enough for my clit to pulse. He runs his knuckles down my thigh, then pauses.

I’m still shaking as he moves closer to me. “Fucking. Mine,” he reminds me, as if I could forget.

Then the fucker—this sick motherfucker—just gets up and walks away.