Chapter 13
Aurora
The whole drive to Cleveland, where we drop off Meg, and then afterward, when we’re back on the night highway, I sit in the passenger seat, lost in thought, processing what happened.
I’m still in shock. What the hell is wrong with my mother? She attacked me for the first time in her life. My own mother!
“Want to stop somewhere to eat?” Desire asks, handing me an open bottle of water.
I don’t want anything. I shake my head, arms crossed over my chest.
“Drink,” he says, not pulling his hand back.
I sigh, take the bottle, and take a few sips. The cool water soothes my burning throat a little.
“Did you really have business in Cleveland?”
“Nope,” he tosses back without taking his eyes off the road.
Only Desire ever does anything for me. He drove more than two hours each way, pulled me from the clutches of my mother—who seems to hate me—and now he’s driving me home to fuck me, no doubt.
Again and again, he saves me from captivity.
I don’t know how long this twisted fairy tale of ours will last, but I’m not going to miss another chance.
Hell, I’d spread my legs on the side of the road right now if he just gave the order.
Anything to help me forget all the shit that happened to me today.
“Are we finally going home?” I ask, stretching my stiff legs.
“Just going to stop by one place,” he says, smoothly turning the wheel.
A couple of minutes later, the Maybach turns toward a tall fence.
The moon has just slipped behind the clouds, and I can’t see a damn thing, but the automatic gate slides aside, letting the car onto the grounds.
Only when the skeletons of roller coasters and the silhouettes of closed pavilions flash in the headlights, do I realize where we are.
“This is Regent Amusement Park,” I breathe out. My heart flutters. Fragments of the nightmare I had come flooding back.
Desire reaches for the glove compartment, opens it, and grabs the white-and-gold mask. My fingers clench the seatbelt until they turn white.
“Why are we here?”
“You have exactly one minute,” he tosses back, putting the mask on and tightening the leather straps at the back of his head.
“For what?” I rasp. Beneath my turtleneck, my nipples harden.
“To run.” The modulator in the mask distorts his voice, turning it mechanical.
I frantically unclip my seatbelt, shove open the door, and—almost tripping over my own feet—dash away from the car.
Fear drives me forward. And then, all around me, the old neon signs flicker to life, flooding the asphalt with acid-bright light.
My body suddenly awakens—a wild, intoxicating mix of adrenaline, panic, and sick anticipation surge through my veins.
I race toward the first pavilion—the shooting gallery. I yank the handle, but the door is locked. In a panic, I glance back through my tangled hair. Desire …, no, Prince Harming is walking unhurriedly down the empty path, a predator’s gait.
I bolt and dash to the next sign. Locked again! I try three doors in a row, and only the fourth gives way. The funhouse mirror pavilion.
Breathing heavily, I run in. Dozens of my own distorted, terrified reflections surround me. I dart through the glass labyrinth until I crash shoulder-first into an inconspicuous service door. I pull the handle—locked.
“You’ve cornered yourself” comes the mechanical voice from the entrance.
His tall figure lunges toward me with a predatory leap. In a panic, I press my back against the door, my heart pounding wildly and a wet, throbbing heat in my cunt. Prince Harming grabs me by the throat. One sharp movement, and the fabric of my turtleneck rips along the seam, baring my breasts.
I stare with wide eyes at his distorted reflections closing in on me from all sides as he pulls out the gold choker and snaps it around my neck. My skin is no longer hidden.
“You forgot something.”
I whimper as the familiar weight tightens around my throat. In his hand, a knife glints dully, and I freeze, squeezing my eyes shut until it hurts.
“You look beautiful in it.” The cold blade slides along my cheek. “Never take it off. Understand?”
I nod with my eyes closed, flinching at the steel pressed against my skin. Finally, the cold disappears. He roughly spins me away from him, pulls my arms behind my back, and shoves me toward that same service door.
“Open it.”
I open my eyes and try to glance back at him. “It’s locked!” I just pushed it a moment ago.
“Pull it toward you.” He laughs.
Fuck! With a low growl, I yank the handle toward me, and the door swings open.
Prince Harming wraps my hair around his fist, grabs both my wrists with his other hand, and leads me outside toward the next ride.
The gate is open. We climb onto the metal platform where the large roller coaster cars sit.
The cars are wide and deep—a massive chassis like that could easily fit three people.
The safety bar on the first car is lifted.
Desire shoves me inside the car and forces me to bend over the front edge. I slump onto the panel, my bare breasts pressing against the sloping metal hood of the car, and I grip the steel railing. The world around me blurs. My head spins and my legs buckle.
“What … what’s wrong with me?” I can barely form the words.
He laughs again. Through the hazy fog, a sudden realization dawns on me. “That bottle of water …, you put sleeping pills in it?”
“This time, it’s drugs.”
I’m swaying badly, the coaster tilting sideways, but his grip holds me, keeping me from falling.
“Honestly, I didn’t even expect you to make it to the coaster,” he says, stroking my tits. “You won’t fall asleep. Your reflexes will just be suppressed. And your head will spin a little.”
“What … what are you going to do to me?” I exhale, finally losing touch with reality.
“Hurt you. As I promised. And you’re going to get off on it.”