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twenty-four

“And you’re sure he won’t be here?”

“I mean, he’s an alumnus. I doubt he would, but I don’t know .” Amelia purses her pink-painted lips while tossing a look into the rear-view mirror as we round the country lane in front of Theta Rho Zeta’s gothic estate.

“You told me he wouldn’t be, Amelia!”

I’ve heard horror stories of the infamous Theta party they host a few times a year.

Right on the invitation, it says that by attending, you’re consenting to any sexual activities that may occur.

The fraternity only hands out the coveted red envelopes to willing participants they choose, and Amelia said we were specifically invited.

And I’m sure it was by the man I’ve been avoiding for a week.

My off-the-shoulder tiny red dress suddenly feels too short and too tight. The silk doesn’t give at all when I tug on the bottom or try to pull up the top that’s folded over seductively, allowing some of my nipple to show.

I should be in the mood to flaunt myself, but the thought of my stalker being at Red Night makes me feel creeped out. Too exposed. Like my insides are on the outside.

A crack cuts through the tense silence in the car as we drive beyond the front gates after showing our invitations and clean sex tests. Gathering my phone from the floor where I dropped it, I read Ryan’s last text to me before I blocked him.

Stalker

Pink cheeks. Please, please come to Red Night and I can explain everything.

The way he texts me makes me think perhaps he isn’t behind the unknown messages I’ve received. No. Ryan Cardell wants me to know it’s him. He’s loud. Obsessive. Unmistakable.

But he is not why I came here tonight. He’s not the reason. He’s not!

This is a sex party, and I plan to give myself away to a random stranger in a mask. No more waiting and no more crazy Ryan Cardell.

That man scares me. Especially after I discovered two of his cameras in my room. My cousin Valen scanned my phone and found a tracker on it! And the one on my Harley!

Maybe if Ryan is here, I can fuck a random brother right in front of him, make him regret trying to own me and follow me.

Dread squeezes my heart at the vision of him and someone else. I don’t think I can take another scene of him with another woman. No. I can’t do this…

“This was a terrible idea. I want to go home.”

“Look, Pippi. We’re here! We can just have a good time. Like I told you, no strings attached. You can do as much or as little as you want, anonymously. No one will know you’re here, so if you’re worried about Ryan, I doubt he’ll be able to pick you out of the crowd.”

Taking the hint, I flip the visor mirror down and secure my mask in place, making sure it covers most of my face.

Sequins of red and black adorn half of my features.

Plumes of ebony feathers and rubied roses decorate the sides, giving it a festive look.

Using the dim overheads in the car, I adjust my fire engine red wig that matches the material on my cocktail dress.

Figured if it was Red Night , I’d wear all red.

As we drive up to the three-tiered sparkling fountain, lit with crimson twinkle lights, several men in maroon suit jackets help us out of the car, then lead us toward the front of the manor.

My friend’s puffy white dress is so short, it almost reveals everything she’s not wearing underneath, but she smooths it down before following her escort.

I cringe inside when I glance at the man who offers me his arm. He’s the younger version of Ryan I saw in the bar. Henry Cardell, I believe his name is. With a deep breath, I slip my hand around his thick bicep, hoping he doesn’t recognize me. Would he tell his brother that I’m here?

“Ladies, be prepared to show your invitation and IDs at the door,” he says with a little bow, waving a gloved hand at the queue formed there.

My mouth becomes a desert as doom trickles through my veins. In a frantic move, I snag Amelia’s forearm and tug her to my side. “But we already showed them at the gate, right?”

Amelia chuckles and confidently aims us toward the back of the line. “Will you relax? It’s fine. It’s a party. We’ll get lost in the crowd as soon as we get inside.” As if I’m a child afraid to get on a roller coaster, she pats my hand.

Stone gargoyles squat on the edges of the house, looming over us as onyx shadows drip from the moon, coating my skin like inky blood. Every window of the ancient estate is leaded, peaked, and holds a red candle that sways with an ominous greeting.

When I peer up at a large Palladian directly above our heads, a naked woman’s breasts plaster against the glass and her palms slap beside her figure while a man shoves into her from behind.

A black hole forms from her open mouth as her terrified eyes latch onto mine.

If I could hear, it appears she’s screaming.

Whether in agony or ecstasy, I guess I won’t know.

“Come on, let’s go,” Amelia says, pulling me forward as the crowd moves.

“Next in line!” A yellow-T-shirt-wearing guard hurries us with a wave of his hand.

We scurry over to show our IDs and invitation to the attendant, but he insists we open our purses and pulls out my phone, holding it between two fingers. “This is prohibited. You can reclaim it on your way out. Next in line!”

When I reach for it, he holds the device behind his back and tosses it in a bin monitored by another guard, who motions for me to approach.

“Name,” he says flatly.

“Uh…I thought this was anonymous.”

His shoulders slump as if he’s had the longest night of his life and has had to explain himself fifty times. “Do you want your phone back later? If so, I gotta put a name on it.”

“Pippi Freidenberg.” When I cross my arms, my breasts almost fly free, so I quickly drop them to my sides.

“Fine. Move along, anonymous .”

Amelia is right. With a step into the entry, we’re greeted by wall-to-wall guests. The house is packed to the brim with students and half are naked. Like, utterly and completely hanging brain in front of everyone.

“Well... Okay… Just, just getting my bearings,” I say over the lump in my throat, letting my eyes adjust to the crowd.

A large man chases a smaller one to the table in the center of the foyer, bends him over with a hand on the back of his neck, and takes him right there with a formidable smack on his ass.

“Ouch! Daddy!” the man on the bottom says with a yelp.

Amelia keels over with laughter and leads me by the hand to the open patio doors. Seeing that, I feel more ready for what kind of party this will be. Who knows what will be around the corner?

A long pool takes up much of the hedge-lined space and is lit up with red lights, giving it the appearance of bubbling lava. It must be heated because plenty of people fill it up with body fluids. Several go at it in the hot tub near the back iron gate as well.

To the right, there’s a row of lounge chairs, where five women kneel in front of a stark nude Landon Turner, greedily taking turns sucking his cock, which, from just one peek at it, appears to be grotesquely large.

His longer blond hair flows over his shoulders when he lifts his face to the night with a shout of pleasure.

“Get in there. You, over there, come lick my taint. You, darlin’, suck my asshole.

” He scoops women’s heads to his crotch, cradling one in front and one behind.

With widened eyes, I glance at Amelia, who looks like she may vomit in disgust. A tiny shrug greets her shoulders as she turns back to the house. “That’s Lan,” is all she says.

Is Ryan somewhere here getting off on multiple women? The thought makes my breathing shallow.

“Let’s get a drink,” she says, walking us toward a bar area set up in an open parlor off the entry. It doesn’t take long to place our orders and grab them, then find a spot along the far wall. Sipping my whiskey sour, I scan the crowd, picking out a potential suitor, one who isn’t a Cardell.

Bass bumps fill my ears until it’s almost impossible to hear anything else.

Red laser lights skirt down a back hall that leads to a large party room, where dancers and a DJ take up most of the space.

Murmurs of conversations around us make me take a step closer to my companion.

Raising onto my tiptoes to be closer to her, I ask, “Can you tell who anyone is?”

Amelia studies the room, then shakes her head. “No. And I hate that my little brother is right outside as a pledge. Makes me feel gross. Do you recognize any Sigmas ?”

“It’s impossible. Should we dance?”

“Yeah! Let’s do that.” She tosses back her martini and sets the glass on the mantle of the fireplace near us, then says, “I’ll just go to the bathroom and meet you in there. Sound good?”

Everyone around us looks like they’re engaged in their own thing, so I nod, and we part.

On my way to the large hall, a tuxedo-wearing man carrying a tray hands me another whiskey sour, and I give him my empty one. Hurriedly drinking it, I wait for the warmth to hit my brain. Two shots are better than one to quiet my nerves.

After that one is gone, I order another while waiting for Amelia to return. It’s a good twenty minutes of me dancing alone in the corner before I decide I also need the restroom and to find my friend.

When I finally reach the half bath door set into the mahogany wainscotting, a very large man with bright blond hair and a chiseled jaw steps in front of me, blocking my entry. “Sorry. This one is out of service, but there’s one on the next floor up, down the same hall.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Wondering if he’s lying, I retreat and scan him up and down. He’s wearing a short maroon coat like the men outside, so he must be a Theta pledge. With a shrug, I head back to the foyer.

My heels slide on the parquet floor leading toward the L-shaped staircase tucked into the corner to the left of the entry. At the top, the railing overlooks the front door and a large crystal chandelier.

The carpets are of a rich blood red, imprinted with Marquis designs, while the walls are sunless black wood. Long passageways jut in five directions, two to the north, one to each side, and one south. Unsure of which to take, I curve around the landing toward the area above where I just came from.

Despite a glowing sconce dotting every other ingress, the lights are dimmed and cast scarlet flames up to the boxed ceilings.

Thick wooden doors line the halls. All of them are shut tight, not allowing sound or sights to seep through.

At the end, I spot a double window covered with heavy velvet drapes, and I march toward it, checking out the rooms for any indicator of a bathroom.

But there’s none. Only engraved numbers on brass plates labeling each blank entry.

Once I reach the end, my stomach drops when I see it leads to more identical hallways to the first. I need to go back downstairs or try a different way.

When I turn to retreat, my body freezes.

Arms wide, as if holding the walls upright, a muscular man in a full black tuxedo topped with a terrifying wolf mask lowers his head and blocks the path to the stairs. My pulse skyrockets, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, like he’s already run a marathon and is about to pounce.

The snout lifts into the air and he lets out a haunting howl that rattles the mirrors standing on console tables nearby.

“Who’s that I see walkin’ in these woods…” As he speaks, he prowls toward me. With a stumble, I back into the window, my hand smacking against the paneling, grasping at nothing.

“Why it’s little red riding hood!” His laughter is familiar and terrifying.

It’s Ryan. Ryan fucking Cardell.

Lifting a finger, I point directly at him like he’s a dog. “Stay there. Don’t come closer!”

Ignoring my frantic yelling, he continues. “Hey, there, little red riding hood… You sure are lookin’ good.”

When he takes another step, the lights surrounding us dive deeper into darkness, now barely glowing above an ember. Heartbeats thud in my guts, which feel as if they’ll fall out as my fear heightens. The only things I can hear are my panicked pants and his steady footfalls on the carpet.

“You’re everything a big, bad wolf could want. Awoooooo !”

With his final call, I turn to my right and take off in a sprint.