Page 7

Arabella

“What does it say?” I hear an unfamiliar voice say, waking me up.

“I don’t know. It looks backward.” Noir answers.

I groan, the dull throbbing in my arms making itself known as I realize I’ve slept on my front the entire time, my limbs numb under the pillow. My body protests as I push myself up onto my elbows, my eyelids heavy with sleep.

“What does what say?” I mumble, squinting as the bright morning light spills through the shutters.

I turn my head to look at Noir beside the bed and another girl with black and pink hair standing next to her. They don’t answer right away, they juststare . My tired gaze flickers between them, irritation creeping inside me.

“What?” I repeat, demanding answers.

The girl with the black-and-pink hair grins, arms crossed. “I think it’s time to stop sleeping naked, beautiful.”

As my eyes adjust, I take in her curvaceous figure and pretty face. Her pink irises glow unnaturally against her tanned complexion, and full black lips. She looks like a walking contradiction, something soft wrapped in something lethal.

Then my gaze drops to my chest, relieved that my breasts are still covered beneath me, but I must have slept for two days straight.

“I still have panties on,” I state flatly, knowing the sheet is still covering my ass and legs.

The girl giggles, tilting her head. “Not for long if you keep this up.”

“Blush,” Noir growls, cutting her off. “This isn’t the time to be making jokes. What the fuck is that?”

Something in her voice makes my gut drop and my head snaps around to look at her. Noir gestures sharply toward my back, and that’s all the confirmation I need.

My fingers clutch at the white sheet, yanking it around myself as I scramble to my feet and my pulse pounds in my ears as I think about a few nights ago.

Wrath.

The memory of him lurking around outside, watching and taunting me, slams into me like a freight train.

I yank my hair forward and rush toward the tall wardrobe mirror, dread pooling thick and suffocating in my chest.

As soon as I’m in front of it, I whirl around to see my back and my narrowed eyes scan over the carefully drawn script.

“What does it say?” Noir asks, inching closer.

I swallow hard before reading quietly:

“This little corpse went to Oddity. This little corpse hid in her home. This little corpse thinks she’s safe on the inside,

but my little corpse is never, ever alone.”

Each word sends a wave of feelings through me, my jaw tightening with each one. The letters are careful, almost elegant in their cruelty and my grip on the sheet tightens as a chill spikes down my spine. He was fucking in here. Watching me asleep. What kind of sick freak…

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Noir growls when she realizes, spinning on her heel to leave.

My eyes squeeze shut as I lower my head.

“Stop,” I say, my voice steady despite the rage inside me.

I hear her hesitate, her footsteps halting just before the door. She stands still for a moment, then gradually turns around to face me and our eyes lock.

“I’m not here to cause problems,” I say firmly with a brow lifted, holding her gaze in the mirror. “And he’s still Hell’s friend. Just leave him to me.”

Noir just blinks, her anger simmering beneath the surface, but Blush, on the other hand, chuckles, shaking her head as she throws her hands up.

“If we’re talking about who I think we are,” she says. “I’m sorry, girl, but you don’t stand a chance. You may as well plan your own fucking funeral at this point.”

I frown at her reflection before turning my head to face her fully.

“No disrespect, Blush, but you don’t know a thing about me,” I snap, an unexpected weight pressing down on my shoulders.

“Honey—” Blush starts, but I cut her off.

“No,” my voice is sharp, final. “I don’t care who he is. He wants to play? Let’s fucking play. It’s nothing a bullet won’t fix.”

The brutal threat leaves my lips before I can stop it, the untamed side of me coming to light, but luckily, Noir’s eyes flicker with something close to admiration, like she’s still trying to figure me out, while Blush is still clearly entertained by the whole sick scenario.

“I like your attitude and bravery, babe. It will get you far here. You’re gonna need it,” she says with a devilish grin before nudging Noir. “Fuck, she’s feistier than you.”

I roll my eyes and turn back toward the wardrobe, tucking the sheet in around me before kneeling in front of my bag on the floor.

“I shouldn’t have taken those damn pills. How could I have been so stu…”

“Well, at least you’re not dead,” Blush adds casually. “He clearly had the opportunity and didn’t take it.”

I freeze, my hand lingering just above a shirt as the world around me seems to slow down. I look over my shoulder at Blush, and then back to Noir, who’s just as confused as I am.

Blush glances between us, her face changing from amused to disbelief.

“Wait... you both don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” Noir questions, suspicion creeping in.

Blush’s expression shifts, and then she lets out a soft breath, her eyes widening in realization.

“That Wrath’s a necro?”

The words hang in the air, and my mind stutters. What the fuck is a necro?

Noir looks at me, equally confused, both of us trying to piece together what she’s talking about. Blush’s hand flies up to cover her mouth, trying to suppress an unhinged giggle that never quite makes it to her lips.

“He only fucks dead pussy.”

Everything in me goes still, my blood freezing in my veins and draining from my body as the meaning of her words sinks in.

“What? Oh, fuck no!” Noir gasps.

I close my eyes, trying to push the words out of my head, but they stick and linger, like a sour taste in the back of my throat. Wait. What? He fucks dead people? Is that really what I’m hearing? I mean, I’ve watched crazy shit in the past, in those weird documentaries you would see on TV, but I never thought I’d be now dealing with one in real life.

“So he gets off over the dead and he doesn’t speak?” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else as my fingers fumble to yank the shirt out of the bag. “Great.”

Blush shrugs nonchalantly, her tone still too chill for my liking.

“Like I said, he didn’t kill you already. I’d take that as a win.”

But her words don’t make me feel any better. Not even close.

“You told me he likes to have two girls at the same time! Not two dead girls!” Noir yells in frustration, the deathly situation finally landing on her.

“I also said I valued my fucking life, and that’s why I would never approach him.” Blush shoots back.

I glance between them, wondering what the fuck they are talking about and why is this kind of normal to them? What have I gotten myself into? What is this place? My mind is reeling, trying to understand the madness of it all.

The worst part? I’m not sure if I’m more disturbed by what Blush just said about Wrath… or by the part of me that almost wants to play with it.

“That’s it, I’m not leaving today!” Noir announces, waving her hands in front of her.

That’s when it hits me. I’m gonna be here, alone with this… necro dude. But fuck it. He wants to invade my space? Try to terrorize the shit out of me? It’s time to put my foot down.

I stand quickly, spinning around to face Noir and her eyes lock onto mine as I move toward her. I grab her wrist as I pass her, yanking her toward the door.

“Get this shit off my back before I lose my shit!”

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I brush my teeth while Noir rubs the marker off my back.

“You think you can handle this? After everything you’ve been through?” Noir asks, her gaze flicking to mine in the reflection.

I lean over, spit the toothpaste into the sink and return my eyes to hers.

“If I can handle everything, then I can handle him, right? It’s what we do. Us girls continuously handle shit.” I breath, setting the toothbrush down.

Noir stays quiet, like a silent understanding and I think about my words before I continue, my voice low.

“Trust me. I’ve got this. You don’t have to worry about me here. Wrath may think he can take from me, whether by force or will, but he’s wrong. Because in the end, it’s not his choice. In my own mind, I alone decide who gets to fucking end me.”

A soft smile touches Noir’s lips, subtle but unmistakable, like she’s proud of me and maybe finally starting to let go of her doubt.

“Okay,”she breathes, a slow nod following the word.“Today, I’m taking you to Oddity Cirque. It’s time to get you really into this. Get yourself ready, make sure you eat something, and we’ll meet you there.”

I nod in return, lowering my head as she steps out, the door shutting behind her. I watch it for a few seconds longer before dragging my eyes back to the mirror.

I stare at myself, straightening my shoulders. I feel better already. The pills helped by forcing me into the kind of deep sleep my body and mind had been begging for. I tried to do it on my own, but my head wouldn’t shut up. Swarming with my past. This place. Noir. Wrath’s stalking ways.

Now it’s time to deal with him head-on if I see him. He’ll regret ever laying eyes on me and thinking he could drag me into his little game. I’m not here for that. I’m realistically only here for Noir for a while, building myself up and then I’m out of here.

After forcing myself to eat and drink something to hopefully get my strength back faster, I step out of my trailer, pulling the door shut behind me.

My gaze flicks to the broken lock, then to the cracked window as I pass it. I shove my hands deep into my oversized hoodie to keep warm, letting out a frustrated growl as I continue ahead.

The maze of trailers stretches ahead, endless in the thick fog. Each step feels slower, heavier, until a shape emerges—The Hollows trailer, sitting to my right.

I stare at it for a second while I pass, a hum of music coming from the circus tent, filling the chilly, morning air, but I keep moving until I’m slipping into what I can only guess is the back entrance.

Trailing down a short, dark corridor draped in red-and-white striped material, I slow my steps as something strange settles over me like a cold shroud.

Then I stop, my eyes darting around, narrowed and scanning.

Where the fuck is he? He’s watching me already, I know he is. I can feel him swarming over my body like invisible hands. But where?

I snap my head over my shoulder and see nothing but the dull glow of daylight spilling in from where I came.

My thoughts return to when he came to my trailer again as I look forward. The way I tried so hard to keep my composure around him, holding myself together like it meant something—only for him to shatter that defiance in an instant just to see how far he could push us both.

I’ve met dangerous men before. Men who think they’re wolves and raise their voices to feel dominant. But Wrath doesn’t even have to fucking try.

His presence alone unsettles something deep inside me. It’s hard to remain confident when he does the things he does, when his red gaze cuts right through everything you're trying to be.

Just one look from him shoots a shiver of fear through me, but it’s not just fear. It’s something else too. Something I haven’t figured out yet.

Intrigue maybe—because he’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. He's different in everything he does, he looks different, and that difference is exactly what keeps dragging my thoughts back to him.

“Ara!” Noir’s voice rips through my thoughts, echoing down the corridor, almost making me jump.

My head tilts up and she stands ahead, her hand lifting as she makes a gesture for me to come to her. “Through here.”

After a short distance, I step into a brightly lit dressing room. The striped fabric still stretches across the walls, but here, the space is bursting with colour.

Bold costumes hang along the left side, wild and dramatic, while props are scattered in messy, chaotic stacks in corners. To my right, vintage vanities line the wall, their mirrors framed by glowing bulbs that cast a hazy, dreamlike light.

I move further in, my eyes sweeping over everything, drawn to the hypnotic energy of the room. It’s like stepping into another realm. A place stitched together by fantasy and craziness, hidden away from the world outside. A place no one else could ever understand or would even believeexists until you’ve seen it yourself.

Suddenly, the sharp click of fingers cuts through the buzzing atmosphere, freezing everyone mid-motion. Hands are half-raised, brushes suspended, corsets half-laced and a hush falls over the room.

I glance behind me just as Madame glides past, moving with that same effortless grace, like she owns every space she steps into. All eyes are on her, including mine, as she moves toward the costumes, her gaze sweeping carefully over them. Her fingers graze the fabric’s like she’s searching for something specific.

Then she stops and plucks a piece from the rack. She lifts it, inspecting it, before turning to me with knowing eyes.

When she steps closer, I don’t move and as soon as she’s standing in front of me, her gaze traces my face, lingering and assessing.

“You will wear black and gold. With gold eye contacts.”Her voice is smooth, final."Fitting, considering your extremely dark yet fascinating...”Her words trails off as her gaze drags down my frame.“...aura.” She finishes.

She presses the clothing into my hands, and as I take them, she shifts her attention over her shoulder, looking at Noir and Blush standing behind her, watching.

“Here, at Oddity, she will be called Aurelia.”

Noir and Blush exchange excited smiles, but I barely register it with my eyes locked on the outfit. A black corset with a little tutu to match. Intricated gold trim, exquisite, almost royal in detail.

Aurelia.

I turn the name over in my mind, unfamiliar but strangely heavy.

“Test her talents and see where her strengths are within the cirque,”Madame continues, her voice measured and strict. “But if she has none...”She trails off, her dark gaze pinning me in place.“...she can just be a ticket girl.”

I lift a brow, keeping my face blank and unreadable. I can still feel her cold, unspoken judgment pressing against me, that weird and unwanted dislike settling in her tone like venom.

Not wanting to watch me be transformed into this new character I’m about to become, she passes me, leaving the dressing room without another word.

Blush suddenly reaches out, grasping my wrist and yanking me toward a vanity with a burst of energy.

“You’re gonna look fucking amazing!!” She screeches with eagerness.

After some time wrestling into the costume, I stare at myself in the mirror. Noir stands behind me, yanking the ribbons on the corset tighter, forcing the air from my lungs.

Holy shit. How the fuck do they perform in this? I can hardly breathe.

Black fishnets cling to my short legs and the tiny, layered tutu flares out at my waist. The corset is sleek, sculpting my torso like armour, gold lace swirling over the silk fabric in elegant designs. A frilly gold trim lines the top, framing my breasts, pushed upwaytoo high for my liking. But... it looks cool, I guess.

I feel like I’m dressing for some extravagant masquerade, or Halloween, not an everyday job. It’s as if I’ve stepped into a role I don’t fully understand yet, but I’m willing to give it my best shot. I like proving people wrong and Madame is at the top of the list right now.

“Right,” Noir breathes, stepping away from me like she’s lost all oxygen while stealing mine. “Now let’s move onto the paints and contacts.”

“Can I do it?” I ask, trying to gain control over something.

“Sure,” Noir agrees, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “I’ll meet you out there?”

I nod, then stare down at the paints and gold contacts in front of me.

Noir and Blush exit the dressing room, leaving me in here alone with a few other girls getting ready for a day of training. I lift a thin paintbrush and dip it into the black paint.

“How hard can it be?”I mutter.“Halloween makeup. Same thing, right?”

“It looks like Madame is losing it. She’s hired another outsider.” A girl sneers to my right, and I side eye a group of them, looking at me.

“I wonder if The Shadows know she keeps doing this. One day, these people are going to expose us all because they don’t fucking belong here.”

My brows pinch as I pause. The Shadows? Who the fuck… And why the hell are they…

I growl under my breath, shoving their words aside and force my focus back to my reflection. I can’t be getting into fights already. The brush is steady in my grip as I lean closer and press the cool paint against my skin.

Slowly and carefully, I ring my eyes in deep black, dragging it outward into sharp, winged edges before pulling the pigment downward in uneven, creepy streaks—like melting ink. The effect is haunting, hollowing out my gaze, making my eyes look darker and almost sunken.

I move to my lips next, lining and coating them in a rich black. Then, I extend delicate flicks from the corners, like they’re splitting open, just slightly. My lips look fuller, butwrong, stretched into something just on the verge of evil.

Satisfied, I press a fingertip into the gold eyeshadow and the shimmer clings to my skin as I dab it over my eyelids, letting it catch in the hollows of black. I trail the same gold across the curves of my lips, blending it just enough to make the black gleam.

Leaning back, I take in the reflection. The hollowed-out eyes. The dripping intensity. The lips, sharp and unnatural. It’s a face that looks like it belongs to something not entirelyhuman.

I love it.

Then my gaze drops to the contact lenses, floating in their container, tiny golden orbs staring back at me from the liquid.

Shit. I’ve never put them in before and just the thought makes something in my stomach churn.

When I hear the girls whispering about me again to my left, I keep my eyes down, jaw tight, rage bubbling before I slam the paintbrush onto the table and my head snaps around.

“Why don’t you shut the fuck…”

The words die in my mouth when I see them all staring at the doorway, their faces frozen, the room suddenly silent like something just walked in and sucked all the energy out of it.

A thick, unnatural stillness snakes through the air, coiling around my throat while, slowly, I turn my head toward the door andeverythinginside me locks up inside me.

He’s standing there, staring right at me. Red swirling eyes drilling into me, dark and detached, devouring every inch of my body without a single word.

My breath halts, my pulse a frantic hammering against my ribs as my gaze drags over his shirtless body. Thick, jagged spirals of black and red ink twist across his body, slithering over every carved ridge of muscle, stretching down his arms, swathing his ribs, winding around his neck. His chest rises and falls, each inhale flexing the deep, brutal cuts of his abs.

His black sweats hang dangerously low, teasing the deep V of his hips, a shadow of dark hair trailing from his navel down—

Andfuck . I know. Ijust knowwithout a doubt what’s beneath those sweats is just as terrifyingly built as the rest of him. No way in hell a man this intense, this massive, thisfucking unrealisn’t carrying something equally horrific and shocking between his legs. It’s law of nature.

My eyes shoot back up, but not before catching the gleam of the silver piercings in both his nipples. Something dark and unfamiliar twists deep inside me.

God, am I attracted to this?

As I take in his face, the haunting paint still shapes his features, the sinister lines framing and sharpening his jawline, but now I see what was hidden before beneath his hood.

His hair—long on top, dark brown waves falling messily forward, almost covering his gaze and licking around his ears.

I barely noticed it last night since everything had been cloaked in leather, darkness and an overwhelmingpresencethat suffocated the air around him.

But now? Now, I see him in the light.

Shit.

Why is he strangely… hot?

Much hotter than I ever should’ve let myself realize. Am I suddenly into the whole deranged, deadly aesthetic? Becausefuck, I think I might be.

No. Snap the fuck out of it. He screws dead girls, remember? Death ain’t worth it, and neither is he.

His gaze moves from mine, slowly sliding over to the girls now huddled in the corner, pressing together like they think it’ll make a difference.

He says nothing and his face remains blank, as if he isn’t even mortal. A low, deep growl rumbles from his chest, quiet but full of warning and the sound crawls through the air as his teeth flash, just for a moment, a dangerous glint that makes them all flinch.

They don’t need any more. There’s a sharp inhale, a squeak and a frantic scramble that follows. They dart for the door, tripping over each other, desperate to get the fuck out.

As soon as they’re gone, the silence slams into the room like a brick wall and his red eyes are lock onto mine again. I swallow hard, then my teeth grind as he moves with unhurried steps in such a way, it makes my chest squeeze tight.

Before I even have the sense to run, he’s already too fucking close, but that doesn’t stop me. I dodge to the right, hoping to slip past him and head for the door, but his arm shoots out fast. His big hand slams around my throat, completely smothering it, his grip like steel as he yanks me into him with little effort.

My back crashes against the front of his body, the heat of him searing through my layers of clothing, his frame swallowing me whole. His fingers squeeze around my throat, pressing deep, cutting off just enough air to make my pulse beat in my skull.

My nails latch onto his arm, digging in, probably drawing blood, but it doesn’t make a damn difference. He doesn’t give a shit; he probably likes it.

The panic hits fast, surging through my body like ice as a familiar, unwelcome feeling coils. I haven’t been touched like this, so rough, since that night, and my body remembers before my mind can fight back. It took me a damn long time for me to stop flinching when a man moved too fast, and I’ll be damned if I start again now.

Because this isn’t then. And he isn’t them.

I’m not who I was. And I can fucking handle him.

He may be bigger and scarier, but one thing I won’t fucking be is his little victim. He will be mine in this mind fuck of a game.

My gaze flicks to the mirror in front of us, and I hold my breath at the sight. His head is tilted down, his sinister eyes dragging over every inch of me.

He’s taking in every part of me—the curve of my collarbone, the swell of my tits, the way his fingers press deep into my throat, claiming, restraining and owning.

His thumb pushes harder, feeling the frantic drum of pulse beneath my skin, and his eyes slowly roll back before they close, like he’s relishing the rhythm of my fear and my life.

Then, without warning, he lets me go.