Page 27

I laugh.

“Araceli, are you okay?” he repeats.

Squeezing his hand in mine, sweat slicks his calloused palm.

“You’re starting to feel it, aren’t you?” I can feel his pulse throb in my hand. The drugs are starting to kick in for him too.

He turns his head to the entrance the group of hooded individuals went through before turning his attention back to me. “Mhm,” he practically growls, letting go of my hand so he can stretch the mask over his face, and my knees buckle at the sight before me. Finally, my strong, golden boy, big brother, is standing in front of me dressed in all-black from head to toe. The fact he has no cross hung on his neck, and a uniquely terrifying mask covering his face, is an added bonus. He looks like everything his father detests, as well as everything I want to corrupt… and everything I want to corrupt me.

His head shakes and the loose strands of honey blonde hair that escaped the mask’s strap mimic the breeze, swaying back and forth.

Closing the space between us he lifts his hand and I expecthim to take mine again in his possession. I reach out to him but he swats my hand away and his large palm settles on my hip, adding to the inferno swarming my body.

An immediate mood shift graces my presence as the plaster of his mask taps against mine. “You’re going to regret bringing me here.” His vague response excites me.

“Why?”

“This is what I’ve always wanted.”

“Halloween?” I ask, confused.

“No,” he quips. He sways slightly, knocking into my side as we make our way through the haunt’s entryway. “To be free.”

“That’s what you want? For me to set you free?” I pout, in jest. Not like he can see it concealed beneath my mask, but he doesn’t like that, apparently.

Harlan stops walking so abruptly, our connected stride breaks on impact and I lose my footing.

“Jesus Chri—” I begin, but my words are stolen from me as is my mask. In the flash of an eye my mask glides up my face and onto the crown of my head. Harlan’s calloused slick palm squeezing my cheeks, hollowing them in with his unexpectedly possessive grip.

My eyes fire a challenging glance his way. I’ve been waiting for this version of him to emerge. I know it’s always been there. His darkness buried deep, unlike mine. Who knew all it would take are some cheap drugs—I should’ve done this sooner.

“Don’t make me feel like I’m at church tonight or home. I don’t want to hear any of that. Not tonight.” His voice is harsh but there’s still a pleading undercurrent to it. One he’s trying so hard to stifle.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Letting my face go, he slides my mask back down.

A shrill cry echoes from inside the haunt, adding to the thrill, thinking of all the trouble we’re going to get into tonight. All of which will infuriate his dad, which makes it that much better. Harlan walks ahead of me, his boots scuffing on the gravel. Wewalk through the arched entrance and into a tunnel. Purple, red, and green alternate in flashes illuminating the artificial cobwebs that hang from the tunnel’s ceiling. We make it to the other side, where two haunt workers stand waiting to greet us. Both of their features are concealed by black cloth masks. Their jackets look similar to the ones the two men were wearing yesterday who came to Sacred Promises to speak to my stepdad.

I shake my head at the thought of anything to do with that place. Like Harlan said—so unexpected and bold—tonight isn’t about feeling like we’re at church or home. It’s about us letting loose. Being free.

Harlan steps to me, keeping his masked gaze on mine, he dips his finger in my cleavage, spilling over my corset. I stand stunned. Wanting more of this version of him. He fishes around, his hand becoming lost between the swell of my breasts.

“What are you—”

“Ssh.” He silences me with the invitation now in his possession. I forgot I put it there.

Harlan hands it to one of the workers, who nods for us to walk in.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Si, Barquero.”

“Barquero?”

“It means ‘Ferryman’. Like your mask, silly. That’s what the tag said, or yours did.”

“Yours didn’t?”