Chapter 31
Reese
Holy hell.
I'm standing in the middle of what has to be the most depraved place I've ever seen in my life, and all I can think about is how badly I want Ramsey to put that glowing blue mask on. What the hell is wrong with me?
"I'm sure," I say, my voice coming out huskier than I intended. "Put it on."
His jaw tightens, eyes darkening as he stares at me for a long, tense moment.
Without breaking eye contact, Ramsey slides the mask over his face.
The effect is immediate and fucking terrifying—in the best possible way.
His eyes gleam through the slits, predatory and intense, while the stitched mouth gives him this muzzled look, like he's something dangerous being barely contained.
Oh, I am so fucking into this.
The way it transforms him—hiding those familiar features behind something anonymous and dangerous makes my thighs clench together.
"Holy shit," I breathe, reaching up to touch the glowing edge. "You look..."
"Like what?" His voice is muffled but somehow even deeper behind the mask.
"Like someone I shouldn't be alone with," I say honestly. "But definitely want to be."
He makes a sound that's half growl, half laugh, his hands finding my waist and pulling me closer. Around us, the crowd seems to part slightly, people glancing at the mask and giving us space.
"What does it mean?" I ask, tracing the stitched mouth with my fingertip. "The mask. It means something, doesn't it?"
"How do you know it means anything?" His voice comes out muffled but deeper, rougher through the material.
I roll my eyes, gesturing around us at the sea of bodies grinding, fucking, bleeding. "A place like this, with all this debauchery? It definitely means something. Nobody here does anything without a reason."
He laughs, the sound dark and rich. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer until I'm pressed against his chest. "Smart girl."
"So tell me," I insist, sliding my hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. I can feel how tense he is under my touch. "What does the mask mean, Ramsey?"
Ramsey tilts his head, the mask making the gesture eerily inhuman. "It means I'm a ghost. Someone who comes here to disappear, to do things without anyone knowing who I really am. It means I want to do things that might scare you."
My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to break free. I should be terrified. I should be dragging him back to the truck and demanding we leave. Instead, I'm pressing closer, craving whatever darkness he's keeping leashed inside.
"I'm not scared," I lie.
His laugh is more of a growl. "Liar."
Before I can respond, he's backing me up against the nearest wall, his body caging mine. One hand braces beside my head while the other slides up to wrap loosely around my throat—not squeezing, just resting there, a reminder of his strength.
"What else does the mask mean?" I ask again, my body trembling under his touch. His hand on my throat makes it hard to focus, but I need to know more.
"It's for the ones who want to chase," he says, voice low and dangerous. "And trust me, there's no shortage of people here who want to be chased."
"What do you mean, chase?" I ask, my voice catching.
His head dips closer, the mask's stitched mouth nearly touching my ear. "Primal play," he says, and the words send a shiver racing down my spine. "Chasing through the woods, catching your prey, devouring it."
Holy fuck.
"Like hunting?" I manage to ask, my mind filling with images that should terrify me but instead make heat pool between my legs.
"Exactly like hunting." His free hand slides down to grip my hip, fingers digging into the flesh. "One person runs; the other pursues. When you're caught..." He lets the sentence hang, and my imagination fills in the blanks with images that make my cheeks burn.
"And when you're caught?" I press, my voice barely a whisper. I'm shivering despite the heat of the warehouse.
"Then the hunter gets to do whatever the fuck they want with their prey," he says, his voice thick with promise.
My body reacts instantly, a pulse of wet heat between my legs making me squirm against him. The idea of Ramsey hunting me, catching me, claiming me—it's making my heart race so fast I feel dizzy.
"So you do this here?" I ask, my voice breathless. "The hunting thing? The primal play?"
He shakes his head; the mask moving eerily in the dim light. "No, baby. I don't do this here."
"Then why are you wearing the mask?" I challenge, running my fingers along its glowing edge.
Ramsey lets out a low chuckle, his hand still resting on my throat.
"Because someone's being fucking funny. Cope knows exactly what he's doing, giving me this.
" He pulls the mask up slightly, just enough to expose his mouth but keeping his eyes covered.
"I'm not opposed to the idea, but you and I both know it's only been you since I first laid eyes on you. "
I freeze, my entire body going still. "Wait, what?"
He pulls the mask off completely now, his blue eyes burning into mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "I haven't been with or even fucking looked at anyone else since I saw you on your sister's phone four years ago."
"Four years ago?" My mind races, trying to process what he's saying. "But that's—"
"Before we even met. Yeah." His thumb traces my jawline, touch feather-light despite the tension radiating from him.
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can feel it. "But you've dated other people. I've seen you with—"
"No." He cuts me off, voice sharp. "I haven't. Not once in four years."
"But what about Jessica? And that girl from your programming class?" I'm struggling to make sense of this. "And all those nights you disappeared?"
His laugh is harsh. "Jobs. People who needed a little info and had very deep pockets. Jessica was Penn's idea—thought I needed to get over my 'little obsession.' Lasted one look at her before I walked out."
My head is spinning. "And the nights you disappeared?"
"Sometimes BEDLAM," he admits. "Sometimes just riding around until I could get my shit together. Being around you and not having you was fucking torture, Reese."
I stare at him, trying to process that Ramsey—my Ramsey—has been carrying this for four years. Four fucking years of wanting me while I dated another guy.
"You expect me to believe you haven't gotten off in four years?" The words come out louder than I intended, drawing a few curious glances from nearby dancers.
"I didn't say that." His eyes darken, something dangerous flashing in them. "I said I haven't been with anyone else."
It takes me a second to catch his meaning, and when I do, my cheeks flame hot. "Oh. So you've just..."
"Jerked off thinking about you? Yeah." He says it so bluntly, like he's commenting on the weather. "A fucking lot."
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is too much. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"
His jaw tightens. "Because I'm not the kind of man who deserves someone like you."
"That's bullshit," I snap, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice. "You don't get to decide what I deserve."
A muscle in his jaw ticks. "Maybe not. But I know what I am, Reese. I know the shit I've done. The shit I want to do." His eyes flick toward the mask, and I catch his meaning. He wants to chase me, to hunt me.
I'm done with him treating me like I'm made of fucking glass.
"If I want you to make me your prey, you'll do it," I say, my voice surprisingly steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I reach out and snatch the mask from his hand, pressing it against my own face for a moment, feeling the cool material against my skin.
I pull it away, studying its eerie glow before sliding it back onto his face, positioning it carefully.
"You don't know what you're saying," he growls. "You have no fucking clue what you're getting yourself into."
I press closer, my chest against his, chin tilted up defiantly. "Stop treating me with kid gloves, Ramsey. I'm not some fragile wilting flower that has no fucking backbone. I've been through shit too."
His hands clench at his sides. I can see him fighting for control, the tension in every line of his body. "This isn't a game, Reese."
"Good. I don't want it to be a game." I step closer, pressing my body against his. "I want it to be real. I want you to stop holding back."
"You have no idea what I'm holding back," he warns, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes my skin prickle with heat.
"Then show me." I'm trembling, but I refuse to back down. "Chase me. Hunt me. Catch me. Do whatever the fuck you want once you've got me."
His breathing accelerates, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath my palms. "Reese—"
"No." I cut him off. "No more excuses. No more protecting me from yourself. I'm done with literally all of it. If you can’t show me who you are, then we need to stop doing this thing between us because I don’t want just parts of you, Ramsey. I want all of it. I deserve someone who’s going to give me all of them.
The problem is the only one I want is you. "
His hands shoot out, gripping my waist with bruising force as he backs me against the wall again. He stares down at me for what seems like an eternity. I couldn’t tell you if it was an hour or only a few minutes but it really doesn’t matter. I’ll never get tired of his eyes on me.
He grabs me and starts moving us through the crowd. Bodies part for us—well, for him really. It’s like they know who he is, at least on some basic cellular level. Like subconsciously they know not to get in this man’s way.
"Where are we going?" I ask, pushing my legs to keep up with his long strides.
"I'm not about to fucking chase you here, hunt you here, fuck you here," he growls, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that makes my thighs clench. "In front of all these people. No one—and I do mean NO FUCKING ONE—gets to see you like that but me."
His grip on my wrist is tight but not painful as he pulls me deeper into the maze-like interior. The bass from the main room fades slightly, replaced by other sounds—moans, screams, laughter.
"Ramsey—"
"So if you're so fucking hell-bent on it," he continues, his voice makes my insides liquify, "then I'm taking you somewhere where I can control the field."
My breath catches. "What does that mean?"
Instead of answering, he pushes open a heavy metal door at the end of the hallway. Cool night air hits my face as we step outside into what looks like a loading dock area behind the warehouse.
"The truck. Now." His voice leaves no room for argument.
I follow him across the dark parking lot, my heart hammering against my ribs. He still hasn't taken the mask off, the blue glow creating an eerie trail in the darkness.
When we reach his truck, he doesn't open the passenger door for me. Instead, he presses me against it, his body caging mine.
"Last chance to back out," he says, voice muffled by the mask. "Because once we leave here, once I get you alone, I'm not holding back. You understand what that means?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"Say it," he demands. "I need to hear you say it."
"I understand," I manage, my voice shaking. "I want this. I want you—all of you."
Pulling my door open, he lifts me up into the cab, and I scramble to sit down, watching as he walks around to the driver’s side. He tosses the mask onto the dashboard where it continues to cast its glow across the interior.
"Where exactly are we going?" I ask as he starts the engine.
"Somewhere private. Somewhere I know every inch of terrain." His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "Somewhere I can hunt you properly. No one will hear your footsteps, your breathing. No one will get to hear your laughs or your moans. Or your screams."
Holy fuck.