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Chapter 3

Juliet

“Was that Trey Lamont?” Sienna’s eyes are wide with horror. She’s cozy in ripped jeans and a black sweatshirt with the number twenty-two stitched across the front in crimson for her Valentine.

My best friend loops her arm through mine to walk with me to the Village, the dining hall we planned on meeting at before Trey Lamont got in my way. “Yep. The Devil himself.”

Trey is a black speck in the distance now. His leather jacket creaked with his movements as he grabbed me, his warm, calloused hand coiling around my arm like a viper.

I liked him better before he flipped the visor up and revealed his identity. A mysterious masked man, just like the one from Massacre Manor I nearly let fuck me into the dirt.

Sienna’s green eyes narrow before she pinches my arm. “Stop falling in love with him!”

“I’m not!”

I’ll admit I’ve had a morbid curiosity about Trey Lamont since Violet Harris told me about the horrors he inflicted on her and Wes last year. Since I read the articles praising him as an accomplished athlete. According to the Devils, his father has managed to wipe the internet of any mentions of Trey’s criminal activities and probation sentence. Probation . For trying to kill a guy. And assaulting a girl.

I’m not sure whether to admire him for getting away with it or laugh in his face for failing. For thinking he’s some sadistic killer when he’s clearly not. Just a frat boy with an anger problem.

I need a real psycho.

“I know you have a sick fascination with Trey Lamont, but you need to stay away from him,” Sienna warns me. “He’s dangerous, and you might be into that in movies, but real life is different. You deserve someone who can actually love you the way you deserve.”

I snort. Sienna is my best friend, but she doesn’t truly understand my depravity. She thinks that just because she found love I should want that too. Love—whatever the fuck that is—is the last thing I’m looking for. “The way I deserve or the way I want? Because those are two very different things.”

“No, they’re not. You want someone who treats you like the only person in the world he cares about. You want someone borderline obsessed, who would do anything for you. Who would do anything to make you happy. That’s what you deserve too.”

I twist the serpent ring on my finger. Damn, maybe my best friend knows me better than I thought. I want a man who’s absolutely whipped for me. Obsessed, can’t think about anything else, would maim, mutilate, and murder for me.

“Don’t worry about Trey Lamont.” I flash my best friend a reassuring smile. “Or any guy, for that matter. I’m making a chastity vow.”

“For how long?”

“A whole month. A week minimum.”

Sienna laughs, shaking her head.

No man could ever handle me. No man could ever love my darkest corners. And if I ever dared to give one a peek behind the curtain, he’d run screaming. As he should. Every time Damien or Knox call me a psycho, they remind me that my heart, my soul, is too black and fractured for anyone to accept or understand, let alone love.

Luckily, I don’t need that shit. I just need to get fucked. “But would it really be so bad to bone him?”

Sienna’s mouth falls open. “Yes! He’s unhinged, Juliet.”

I can’t lie—Trey is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Chestnut hair that sweeps just above his brows, piercing green eyes that slice right through me, mouthwatering muscles rippling on his arms and back, a sharp chin, regal nose, prominent cheekbones, and a devilish smirk across full, devastating lips. But maybe there’s nothing deeper beneath the surface of the spoiled, entitled, violent rich boy. Maybe he’s not an unhinged psycho—maybe he’s a grown man who throws temper tantrums. Not worth my time, even to get laid.

Brandon’s taking me on a trip. In my head, he’s Brandon now, not Mr. Williams. Not Coach. I slipped at practice the other day, and a few of the girls shot me raised eyebrows.

Sneaking out has been my daily habit for months now. My parents have no idea I’m not up in my room most nights. How would they? They’re either attending late-night business dinners, asleep in anticipation of early-morning meetings, or abroad on business trips. Their careers are just starting to take off after years of struggling to make ends meet, and I’m fifteen. I don’t need a babysitter or a parent, apparently. Surely I can take care of myself by now.

That’s okay. Brandon takes care of me.

Lately, he’s been different, though. Weirdly distant. He hasn’t been sneaking small touches during warmups or lingering outside of the locker room or pulling me into his office as much as he used to.

Paranoia had a grip on my heart until he caught me before last period with a big smile and told me to meet him out front tonight at ten because he had a special trip planned for us.

When he said us , I thought he meant just the two of us.

Except he opens the rear passenger side door and there’s another girl in the backseat.

Jealousy flares in my gut. What the hell is she doing here? Why is she so damn beautiful? Soft strawberry hair that falls in loose waves down to her waist, a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks, and perfectly shaped eyebrows that she doesn’t have to pluck or draw. She’s perfect, and I hate her.

I round on Brandon. “Who the hell is she?”

He smiles easily. “A new friend.”

“Just a friend?”

Even though his smile usually comforts me, now it contains a hint of condescension. He lowers his voice. “Of course. You know you’re my special girl.”

Stupidly, relief fills my chest. “Good.”

“Can we go now?” His tone is gentle but firm. Just like it is every time he instructs me on where to put my hands.

“I guess.” I slide into the backseat, the familiar scent of pine from the air freshener flooding my nose, and he shuts the door.

The girl is silent beside me. She’s like a scared kitten. Stiff, wide-eyed, and jittery. Most people aren’t this scared of me. At least not right away.

“Hey. I’m Juliet.”

“Autumn,” she murmurs, so quiet I almost can’t hear her.

When Brandon slides into the driver’s seat and turns on the engine, I ask, “How do you two know each other?”

“Family friends.”

Autumn shifts. Is he lying? She doesn’t object, though.

“Where the hell are we even going?”

Brandon chuckles, headlights guiding us down the dark road. “It’s a surprise, remember?”

“How long until we get there?”

He glances in the rearview mirror at Autumn. “She’s impossible, isn’t she?”

I fold my arms over my chest, not liking that he’s making me the odd one out. “I’m a delight.”

“You are,” he agrees easily. “You know you’re both freshmen.”

“Yeah?” I shift my focus to Autumn and ask about her classes.

She offers one-word answers whenever possible, but at least she’s talking. I talk about classes and softball, and Autumn just barely relaxes, calmer when she’s talking about her dog and her little brother.

By the time the clock on Brandon’s dashboard says it’s past eleven, we’re both yawning. “When are we going to be there?”

“How about you two take a nap? Then we’ll be there when you wake up.”

I roll my eyes. I’m fifteen, almost sixteen, but sometimes Brandon talks to me like I’m a kid.

Eventually, we both fall asleep. The last thing I remember is the tires rattling over a long bridge suspended above inky water before drifting back to sleep.

Maybe planting a camera in the bedroom of the biggest psycho on the Diamond Devils hockey team makes me an idiot.

I warned Trey Lamont not to start shit with me or I’d bring hell raining down on him.

Do it .

He’ll learn better than to taunt me. He brought this on himself.

Though every rational brain cell tells me to drop it and avoid the entitled rich boy, I want to study him the way I study serial killers in my psychology classes, and admittedly, my free time. Why did he hurt Wes and Violet? Why did he make a spectacle of his murder attempt in front of multiple witnesses? Surely, he’s smart enough not to be that sloppy.

My curiosity will kill me.

When I’m satisfied the camera is concealed, I pluck the container from my bag and set it on his desk, gently tipping it on its side before opening the lid.

Hesitantly, the tarantula crawls from his little enclosure. He’s so cute skittering around the notebooks strewn across Trey’s desk.

“Scare the shit out of him,” I whisper. “I want to hear him scream from my dorm.”

I head for the door and try not to let my gaze linger on his room. On the pair of boxers discarded on the floor, on the messy black bedsheets that are all too inviting, on the knife forgotten on the cluttered desk. Part of me itches to pocket it, but that’ll raise his suspicions. I need to get out of here before Trey returns and discovers me. He may think I’m actually interested in him beyond studying him like a bug under a microscope.

As I sneak out of his room, my phone buzzes.

Sienna

Are you on your way back to the dorm?

Juliet

Yep. I’ll be there in ten minutes.

“Hey there, psycho.” Damien blocks the front door with arms crossed, muscles bulging, and a shit-eating grin.

Knox towers over all of us, ass planted on the counter and feet swinging like a kid while Finn’s shoulder leans against the fridge.

They’re all gorgeous, I’ll give them that.

“I liked you all better in masks.”

Knox pretends to stab a knife into his heart. “Ouch. My mother tells me I’m pretty.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Damien asks.

“What are you doing here in the first place?” Knox hops down, stepping closer with a huge grin. “I don’t remember you agreeing to a night with us. Unless you changed your mind.”

“Sorry to disappoint, boys. I’m only here on business.”

Knox lifts a brow. “What business is that?”

“Murder,” Finn supplies.

The other Devils laugh at his deadpan joke. That might be the first word I’ve ever heard from Finn’s mouth. “I wish. Just some pranks between enemies.”

Damien straightens. “Who’s your enemy?”

“Trey Lamont.”

All three of them exchange sadistic smiles, and Knox claps a hand on my shoulder. “You gotta let us in on this prank war then.”

“Why are you even letting him live here if you don’t like him?”

Damien’s mouth sours. “We didn’t have a choice. His dad pays for the house. We either had to let him live here or move out.”

I shake my head. Forced to buy his son’s acceptance. The puck bunnies may happily fall to their knees for Trey Lamont, but among everyone else, he’s either hated, feared, or both. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Knox agrees, “so let us know when you want help.”

“I’ll take you up on that sometime.” I brush past them and wrench open the door.

“Don’t be afraid to take us up on our other offer too,” Damien calls to my back.

On the sidewalk in front of the house, a brunette lingers, turning on her heel and heading in the other direction when she spots me. I roll my eyes. A desperate puck bunny waiting for the Devils to make an appearance or invite her inside.

The night air is cooler tonight. I hug my chest, trying to warm my fingers beneath my arms. In a few weeks, I’ll be forced to trade the mini skirts and crop tops for warm leggings and long sleeves. I’ll miss the flash of my tattoos when they’re covered up. Dark wisps of clouds drift across the full moon, and paranoia claws up my spine.

Someone’s eyes are on me.

I dart a glance over my shoulder, then the other before shaking off the delusion.

My phone buzzes again, but before I can check it, a crunch comes from my right.

Off the sidewalk, just beyond the woodline, a man watches me. His neon-red mask makes my heart skip.

The scare actor from Massacre Manor.

No fucking way. How the hell did he find me? I grind my teeth. “You followed me to my college campus? Are you insane?”

Why am I asking? Of course he is.

Spiders scurry down my back as his low chuckle echoes beneath the mask with every slow step he takes toward me. “Only as insane as you are, pretty girl.”

“Except I’m not a fucking stalker who follows a girl to her college campus.” Although I am a girl who plants a camera in a Devil’s bedroom so I can spy on him. Maybe that makes me a stalker too. But this masked man doesn’t need to know that.

“You want me here.” His silent steps are bringing him closer and closer. How does a man this large move so quietly? My legs are itching to run, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet. “That’s why your heart is pounding. Why your palms are sweating. Why your thighs are clenching. Why you’re soaked for me.”

I hate how he’s already keenly aware of the effect he has on me. “My panties are bone-dry.”

“They’ll never be dry when I’m around.” He takes one more step toward me.

That last foot is my final straw. I spin on my heels and take off, Docs slapping against the concrete. He’s a silent shadow behind me, and his speed makes my chest clench.

The campus is practically deserted at this time of night, but there are still a few lights on in the library. I aim for the door. If I can get inside the building, there will be witnesses and?—

An iron grip jerks me off my feet by the shoulders before smacking my back against the brick wall. The brick rubs my exposed skin raw and my hands fly out, punching and shoving to get him the hell away from me as my heart hammers and chest heaves.

Getting chased through the dark by a masked scare actor at a haunt was one thing. Him stalking me to my college campus and cornering me is another.

“Shh.” His whisper makes every hair on my arms and neck stand on end, yet somehow lulls me into complacency. He’s fucking nuts, but I want him. Want him to take what he aches for. What I ache for.

We’re both fucked in the head. Me more than him if I’m salivating for his cock between my legs again.

His calloused palm lands on my exposed thigh. I want those callouses rubbing against my nipples, the hard ridges grinding my clit.

No, I need to stop being so fucking crazy. That’s exactly what has gotten me into every mess in my life. I shove against his hard chest, an unmovable boulder beneath my palms. “Get the fuck off me!”

He doesn’t listen. His breathing turns ragged as he slides his hand up my inner thigh, every skin cell he brushes vibrating. In my ears, my pulse echoes.

The second his palm cups the space between my legs, my thighs clamp together. You catch me, you fuck me . He’s here to pick up where we left off.

I send my knee up to his groin as hard as I can, not caring about the damage I’m doing to his balls.

“Shit!” He springs away from me, bending and clutching his aching, rock-hard dick.

My laugh echoes off the brick wall, nearly drowning out his groans. “Told you to get the fuck off me.”

Before he can recover and retaliate, I spin in the opposite direction and take off. I don’t want him to know which dorm building I’m in. If I disappear into the woods, I’ll lose him. He doesn’t know this campus like I do. I’ll follow the walking trails back to the dorm and get inside the building before he’s even found his way out of the maze of trees.

My boots crash over leaves and branches, the darkness making navigation that much more difficult. I can’t follow the trails—that will make me easy prey. I’m not that dumb, and he should know by now that I won’t be easy prey to catch.

A mix of certainty and arrogance swells in my chest. I’ll disappear into the night like a ghost and he’ll be left wondering how the fuck I eluded him so easily. I wish I could be a fly on the wall and witness the stunned expression on his face when he realizes I’ve vanished and removes the mask.

Except I don’t want to know the face beneath the mask. I like the mystery.

A sliver of moonlight breaks through the treetops and I let it guide me between the trees until a shadowy figure emerges in front of me.

Every muscle in my body stops moving. My breath catches in my lungs, each cell freezing.

That can’t be him. How ? How the fuck did he manage to intercept me? To anticipate where I was headed?

“Leave me alone.” For the first time since he met me, there’s a tremor in my voice.

I really am afraid of him—not because of what he might do to me, but because of how well he already seems to know me.

That’s the most unsettling thing about him.

I only manage one step in retreat before he’s on me, throwing me up against a tree. My spine collides with the bark and I cry out as the pain lashes through me.

With heavy hands on my shoulders, he keeps me pinned, his body pressed fully against mine so I can’t bring my knee up to traumatize his balls again. His heat warms my frozen skin, nipples peaking beneath my flimsy bra but not from the cool night air. His hard torso flush against mine is delicious enough to make me drool.

Jesus, Juliet. Get it the fuck together.

In an impossibly low voice, the masked man murmurs, “We didn’t get to finish what we started.”

“And we won’t,” I purr. “You touch me anywhere else and I’ll castrate you.”

His brief chuckle turns my core molten. “I’d love to see you try, demon.”

His stupid fucking nickname for me shouldn’t make butterflies flutter in my stomach. I’ve always known something was wrong with me—many things, in fact—but ever since this masked man waltzed into my life, I’ve become acutely aware of how truly fucked up I am.

From his pocket, he pulls out a knife, flipping the blade open with a seductive stroke of his finger. The blade glints under the moonlight, and a rare lump catches in my throat.

I want to be held at knifepoint and taken against my will. Cut before he licks the blood off my skin.

What the fuck possessed me to tell him that? Those were just my sickest, darkest fantasies—not anything that was supposed to become reality.

But that’s why he’s here. To make my fantasies real.

Fuck. Me.

I’m such an idiot. If Sienna knew where I was right now, what trouble I’ve gotten myself into?—

Shit, Sienna . I told her I’d be at the dorm in ten minutes. She’ll send the entire campus security team to hunt me down. Maybe that’s for the best. Then they’ll chase my masked man off campus and prevent him from returning.

Except he’s already my masked man, and no matter how insane it makes me, I don’t want him to leave.

I want to find out what he has in store for me in these woods.

With a tilt of his head, the masked man presses the blade of the knife to my throat. It bobs as I fail to swallow down the hard lump lodged there. Fuck, fuck, fuck— “You better not kill me.”

“Or what? You’ll haunt me?”

“Yes. I’ll haunt your ass so much, you’ll wish you never met me.” I’ll make his life a living nightmare beyond the grave. Death wouldn’t be enough to stop me.

“Don’t worry, demon.” Beneath his mask, I bet he’s wearing a cocky grin. “I’m not going to kill you. No fun in that. I want to play with you, and our game has only just begun. On your knees.”

My heart hammers against my ribcage. “Forget it?—”

“ On your knees , pretty girl.” His harsh command is accented by the bite of the blade against my skin.

I wince at the sting, a tiny rivulet of blood trickling down my neck. This guy is so fucking sick. Twisted, fucked in the head.

A nightmare incarnate.

I sink to my knees. The hard earth digs into my exposed skin, cold seeping through every vein. He doesn’t drop the blade from my throat, and I’m forced to crane my neck back to look up at him, to keep him from accidentally cutting me deeper. Or maybe it wouldn’t be an accident at all.

When I told him my most depraved fantasies, I figured he’d run like all the rest. Discover I’m too deranged for him. A bigger psycho than he could handle. Maybe I’ve met my match.

And now I’m well and truly fucked.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

“Fuck you.” I don’t give a shit if he has me at knifepoint. I’m not going to roll over without a fight, even if I can only fight with my words.

One hand drifts to his zipper and he pulls it down. Oh my god . “If you use your teeth, I’ll use my knife.”

He already said he won’t kill me, but if I bite him, he could hurt me. Or change his mind. Leave my body in the woods to decay until they find me. For all I know, he might get off on dead bodies.

Maybe if I bite his cock hard enough, I’ll be able to get away while he’s writhing in agony. Surely, nearly biting it off will hurt worse than a knee to the groin?—

He nudges the knife against my neck, a sharp reminder of the threat. “Quit thinking about it.”

“Stop reading my mind,” I spit. “It’s disturbing.”

His laugh is something out of a horror film, coiling around my ears and twisting them. I’ll hear that laugh in my nightmares. Or maybe my wet dreams. “You have no idea how disturbing this is going to get.”

Even with a mix of fear and adrenaline pumping through my veins, even as every sensible brain cell and survival instinct tells me to run, to get the hell away from this masked man as fast as I can...part of me wants to know what he tastes like. Part of me wants this to happen, and that part of me is winning.

“Pull out my cock.”

At his delicious, sultry command, my hands curl into fists. “You’ll regret this. You have no idea how disturbing I can get.”

He has no fucking clue what I’m capable of. He’d shit his pants if he knew. If he forces me to blow him at knifepoint, I’ll get my revenge. Karma is a bitch, but I’m a monster.

The masked man grabs my hand and plants it on the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans. “I can’t wait to find out. Now take out my cock, pretty girl. I won’t ask nicely again.”

“You haven’t asked nicely at all,” I grumble, but at the sting of the blade against my throat, I reach into his boxers, brushing past smooth skin to?—

Jesus . I can’t fit that in my mouth. Or anywhere else.

I wrap my hand around the tip before stroking down his hard cock while it springs free from his boxers. Every rock-solid inch is wrapped in velvety smooth skin, soft and hard at once. Inviting and intimidating.

He groans as I stroke down, his length twitching in my hand and reminding me of that night at the haunt when his cock struck my pussy and I nearly combusted. What kind of unhinged psycho did that haunt unleash? “That’s a good girl.”

My teeth grind together. “I’m not. This is called doing what it takes to survive the deranged sociopath wielding a knife in the woods.”

His hand fists my hair, tugging so hard tears sting my eyes and I let out a yelp. “You’re my good girl.”

“I’m not your anything.” For a brief second, I wish he’d take the mask off so we could make eye contact while I glare at him. He can see me clearly, but he’s still a mystery to me. “And I’m definitely not good.”

“Then be my bad girl, little demon.” He jerks his hips forward, nearly hitting my face with his cock. “Down your throat.”

I can’t believe an insane masked man is about to make me blow him in the middle of the woods. He has no idea the hell I’ll unleash on him. I almost smile at all the revenge fantasies that race through my mind.

Even on my knees and with his knife on my neck, I keep my shoulders back and chin high. “This is your last chance to walk away. If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

His blade digs harder against my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to pull away from the pain, but he keeps me firmly in place with his fist in my hair. “If you don’t swallow every drop of my cum, you’ll regret it.”

My eyes spring open. “I am not ?—”

He drops my hair only to tug my chin down before he shoves his cock past my lips, the slightly salty taste of his hot, smooth skin gliding across my tongue.

My jaw comes unhinged as I swallow his girth and new tears spring up as the ache builds. This is how people get lockjaw.

His shaft rubs over my tongue as he groans loud enough to wake the whole campus, the saltiness of his precum hitting the back of my throat. The hand gripping the knife smacks against the tree above my head so he can brace himself while the hand in my hair guides me, forcing me to swallow every inch he slides into my mouth.

I could bite down now while he doesn’t have the blade against my neck, but I don’t feel like getting stabbed and bleeding out tonight. Not before I make him pay for this.

I’m not swallowing his cum. I’ve never done it and I never will. I don’t even like giving blowjobs. At least, not until now.

I shouldn’t be enjoying any second of this. I should be plotting my escape, figuring out a way to get this masked man’s dick out of my mouth and running from him without getting killed.

Instead, I dig my nails into his thighs and dart out my tongue when he pulls back, leaving only the tip in my mouth. He hisses through his teeth and I grin around his cock. He thinks he’s the one with the power here, but he’s not.

A clatter above my head like he’s stabbing the tree with his knife. “ Fuck . That’s my bad fucking girl.”

That’s right. That’s what I am. Bad. Way, way worse than he realizes.

My tongue swirls around his wide girth, salivating over him. His taste, his groans, the feel of his cock wrenching my jaw apart.

The hand in my hair yanks me back, my skull colliding with the bark. I cry out, the pain making my head spin.

He takes advantage of my open mouth and rams back in, his hips thrusting back and forth like he’s sprinting to the finish line. His heavy breathing and the rustling of his jeans with every thrust fill my ears.

I shove at his thighs, trying to push him off, to get him to ease up, but it’s like I’m not even here. Simply a mouth for him to fuck. I shouldn’t be getting off on him using me like this, but the warmth pooling between my legs tells me that if he were to fuck me, I would be unraveling around him in seconds.

His cock drags over my tongue, smacking the back of my throat over and over. My stomach lurches, aching as I gag with each punishing thrust. Tears burn before spilling down my cheeks, saliva trickling out from my mouth and down my chin.

I need to bite him. Need to somehow get him to stop before he breaks my jaw?—

“I’m going to come.” His warning is low and guttural, and a delicious shiver coils down my spine.

I punch his thighs, my silent warning that he better not come in my mouth, but he ignores me. He doesn’t pull out or stop fucking my mouth until hot liquid shoots down my throat.

My garbles echo around us as his cum threatens to drown me, hot and salty as it burns its way down. He stops thrusting, groaning out a loud “ Fuuuuck ” to the night sky as he fulfills his promise to make me swallow every drop.

Ropes of his cum spurt down my throat, suffocating me until he finally pulls out.

I gasp, hands smacking against the cold ground as I heave, simultaneously trying to drag down air and rid my throat of his salty taste. “Fuck. You.”

He tsks, grazing the tip of his knife down my spine. “I thought you were tougher than that, pretty girl. A little cum won’t kill you. Or a lot.”

My stomach churns, nausea building until I puke. My limbs go weak, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before collapsing against the tree. I don’t have it in me to run anymore. To try to escape the masked man with the knife.

He doesn’t take off. Not yet. He’s enjoying the aftermath of what he’s done to me. “That smart mouth sure can swallow a cock. Might not even need to take your pussy or ass if you keep blowing me like that.”

I flip him off and finally stand on shaky legs. He’s not going to take anything else from me tonight.

But before I can run or open my mouth, he drags the dull edge of his knife across my collarbone. I freeze. God, I can’t fucking wait to make him pay for tonight. For making me his prey, when I’m anything but.

“Get home safe, pretty girl.” He retreats a step, pointing his knife toward the woodline. My knees nearly wobble with relief. “Before another masked man finds you in the woods.”