Page 28

I shake my head. “No. But seeing that yours is the Barquero, I can be your pasajera.” I step forward to lower his mask back down for him. “Since what’s a Ferryman, without a passenger? I can be a blank slate that I’ll allow you to corrupt. Just for tonight.”

Hunger echoes beneath his mask in the form of a groan. “I thought you were the one corrupting me.”

Be careful what you wish for, church boy.Suddenly the thought of corrupting him, ofbreakinghim, is all I want. It’d be the ultimate fuck you to his dad and, if I’m being honest with myself,would satisfy the itch he created in me since seeing him sin between someone else’s legs… that wasn’t me. Like it should’ve been.

“You’re right, and speaking of which…” my voice trails, taking the blotter sheet out again—also nestled between my tits. The designs on the small squares mesh together slightly from my body heat.

Harlan snatches the acid from my hand, and the glint of mischief in his stare mirrors my own. We remain with our gazes locked until I see him ripping two squares from the sheet in eagerness.

“No!” I snap at him just as he’s about to lift his mask to take them. “You’ve never done this before. Take this much.” I take one and halve it.

He scoffs, low and angry. “Stop babying me, Araceli. It’s insulting. You wanted me to let loose tonight, remember? So if I’m going to go all out tonight, let me,” he grits through a tense jaw, grabbing the sheet from me, “go all fucking out,” he boasts, and the level of delusional confidence leaking from him is as hot as it is cringe worthy.

I take the sheet back. The body heat from how I had it stored mixed with Harlan and I handling it in a stubborn tug of war is causing the design to transfer onto my palm.

“Going all out and dying are two different things. Now you can lift your mask.”

Another scoff sounds. This one, however, is met with him obeying my directive. Like a good boy, he lifts his mask, and I lift mine. With the hideous plaster resting over our heads, we look at each other, and once again, the apprehension he had in the Halloween Shop returns, holding his handsome features hostage. It’s as if all the confidence the mask seemed to give him vanishes when it’s off his face. His jaw tightens so hard that a visible knot shows.

I rip a small square from the sheet. My gaze falls to his lips. “Open,” I instruct, my free hand squeezing his cheeks as I attemptto pry his mouth open. He wants this. I can see it—fuck, I can feel it, but where was that guy storming in here before? I need him to come back.

“I need your tongue. Stick it out.”

He doesn’t budge, but he doesn’t fight off my touch either.

“Fine,” I huff in defeat, loosening the hold I have on his cheeks and instead bringing my hand to his neck, squeezing it as hard as I can. “I liked you better when you were acting like an asshole,” I murmur. Squeezing his throat tighter, I take the two blotter squares and place them both in my mouth.

“Then put my mask back on.” His deep baritone says, practically begging me to do it.

“I will, after I do this.” Without warning, I extend my tongue and dive into his mouth. He doesn’t fight my aggressive kiss—or the drugs. Our mouths remain entangled, our tongues sliding over each other until the paper dissolves. I pull back, not giving up the dominance my hand has on his throat.

“What did we just take?” Harlan asks.

I don’t answer right away. I let go of his neck, admiring the red marks my hand left on it, leaving an invisible collar on him. Marking him as mine, at least for tonight. I pull his mask down, over his chiseled face, and I do the same to mine.

Eliminating any and all space between us, I get onto my tiptoes. Our masks clacking against each other as I nestle myself near his ear. “An escape,” I finally respond.

“Do you promise?” He asks. Scared, yet hopeful, all within the same breath.

“To give you more?” I stare at Harlan, dumbfounded. “Umm, sure.”

“No!” He shouts before lowering his voice. “To escape, I mean.”

I tilt my head in confusion as he continues. “I don’t want to go back home.” The admission tempts me as much as it surprises me.

“Please,” he pleads. “Araceli, I mean it. I can’t go back there.”

“Are you suggesting we run away?” I ask, jokingly, though the enthusiastic nodding of his head is anything but a joke. He’s serious. “How about we just see where the night takes us? Then we can figure it out.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” The words slip out so fast, and Harlan’s demeanor shifts to sudden elation upon me saying just those two words. The idea of being free of his father, of that fucking house, is what I’ve always wanted… alone. Not with him or anyone else. It’ll be a clean break from all things Rainey. Harlan included. Not wanting to burst his bubble, I leave it there.

I tuck the drugs back in my corset and can see Harlan peer at my cleavage as I do it. I give my breast a pat playfully. “If you want any more, you’re going to have to get past these first.”

“Will it make the voices stop?” Another question, this one throwing me off just as much as the first. I’m not sure if he’s referring to a possible side effect, or if he’s talking about the same internal voices that guide me as ‘part of my gift’—as Frida likes to call it. I doubt it’s the latter. Even with his hatred for his father, I doubt he believes in anything outside of what he’s been told to believe.

“It always does for me,” I lie.