Page 2

Lux

M y brain throbbed as if being rhythmically smashed against the wall of my skull. My mouth was dry, as if someone had shoved a fistful of sand between my lips and said good enough. Slowly, I opened my eyes, propping myself up to look around.

The room I was in was far nicer than my crummy studio apartment.

The sheets were made of silk—real silk, not the cheap stuff you find on fast fashion websites—and the bed was like being enveloped in a cloud. Despite the voice in the back of my head screaming that this wasn’t right, my first instinct was to sink deeper into the mattress.

For the past two years, I’d been working sixty plus hours a week at a local dive bar. The days were long, and the money wasn’t great, but it kept a roof over my head—even if just barely.

Maybe I’d convinced a rich guy to bring me home during my shift last night… and, if that were the case, I better make the most of a bad situation.

Once again, my eyes fluttered shut. I wiggled under the downy comforter as the weight of sleep threatened to pull me under. But, as my fingers brushed against my side, I froze.

Without thinking, I yanked the covers off and looked down at my body.

My curves were barely covered in a red lace slip dress.

The thin fabric rode up my thick thighs with every movement, pulling so high I might as well have been naked from the waist down.

Intricate floral embroidery covered my chest.

The dress, while revealing, was beautiful, and maybe even a little expensive. But, most importantly, it was not mine.

The room spun as I forced myself to sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My bare feet stuck to the cold hardwood floor. Panic prickled along my spine as I realized my purse was nowhere in sight.

“Shit,” I whispered, now taking the time to fully look around the room.

The space is like something taken from the Victorian era.

Ornate wall paper and velvet curtains that barely covered the large windows, and the furniture felt like it belonged in a museum, not used.

Above me, an unlit crystal chandelier hung.

Wind blew from an unspecified location, causing the glass to brush against itself.

The hairs on my neck stood on end when I noticed the vanity in the corner. The dusty, cracked mirror seemed out of place in a room as nice as this. But, something in the imperfection made me feel more at ease.

The floor creaked as I tiptoed toward it, and I silently swore, hoping no one heard. I didn’t know why I felt like I was being watched, but I couldn’t shake the idea I wasn’t alone. All I wanted to do was figure out where the hell I was and run as far away from here as possible.

On the edge of the vanity sat a folded piece of ivory stationery branded with my name. My fingers trembled, but against my better judgment, I picked it up.

The paper nearly fell open in my hands. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see inside. Maybe a note explaining where I was? Or, perhaps a threat from someone who lured me here?

Instead, all it said was ‘ Welcome to The Game’.

“What game?” I whispered as if the walls might answer me.

But, no such luck.

I flipped the note over a few times, searching for a signature, or even rules, but there’s nothing of the sort. Clutching the note to my chest, I looked around once more.

My eyes settled on a heavy-looking door with a wrought iron handle. It didn’t look very functional, but it was worth a shot. Silently, I moved toward it, taking the cold metal in my hand and jiggling it.

But, no matter how hard I tried, the door wouldn’t budge.

Terror blurred my thoughts, leaving me to pound on the wood with a closed fist.

“Hello!” I called. “What’s going on? I know you’re out there!”

I did, in fact, not know if anyone was out there, but the clicking of a lock confirmed my suspicion. The door groaned open just an inch, and I jumped back out of instinct.

My first thought was to look for something sharp to defend myself, but I stayed rooted in place. A hand poked through the space, a robe dangling from its grasp.

“Please make sure you’re decent before I come in. You’re a lady.” The voice was smooth and deep, the faintest hint of an accent I couldn’t place decorated the words.

“I—What?”

The hand shook the garment at me. “You’re a woman, Lux, and I’m a man. Please ensure you’re properly covered before I come in. It’d be impolite for me to barge in on you.”

I hesitated to grab the blood-red velvet from the outstretched appendage. But, another nondescript wind blew through the room, nearly causing my teeth to chatter, leaving me to snatch it away.

I slipped the robe over my shoulders. It’s heavier than it looked. I was unsure what the material is–maybe velvet–but it glided across my skin like butter. Once it was on, I tied the belt and secured it, making sure I was as covered as possible.

“I’m decent.” My voice shook as I spoke, but I was determined to keep the nerves clawing up my throat at bay.

The door widened, this time silently, and in steps what I assumed to be a man.

He was impossibly tall, so much so that he had to duck when entering.

His frame completely hid the door behind him, as if telling me don’t even think about it.

He was clothed nearly head to toe in a black jacket that fit too perfectly to be off-the-rack.

The whole thing might be kind of suave, if it weren’t for the mask.

I recognized the style from internet thirst traps, but something about the long beak of the Plague Doctor was unnerving.

Silver etches crawl across the black leather, drawing my eyes to his cheekbones rather than the sharp-looking beak.

The man shifted his head to one side, causing the light of the nearby candles to reflect off the dark lenses covering his eyes.

It was impossible to tell what he was looking at, but I could feel his gaze on me.

I clutched the fabric of my robe tighter, trying to protect myself as I envisioned what I looked like from his perspective.

Probably weak, or maybe scared. Both felt true, but I didn’t want to seem helpless, especially not until I knew what was going on.

“It’s nice to see that you’re awake, Lux.” He stepped closer, his steps all too slow. It was like he had nowhere to be, like he was used to being feared and wanted to be as non-threatening as possible.

It’s not working.

My words failed me, so I pulled my shoulders back and stood tall as I watched him meander around the room.

His first stop was the vanity. He dragged his fingers across the dusty surface before lifting his head to the mirror.

I heard a brief sound of disapproval as he ran a gloved hand over the mirror.

“I could have sworn I made a note to have this glass replaced,” he murmured, seeming completely absorbed in the imperfection rather than, you know , the strange woman standing five feet behind him.

“Where am I?” The question slipped before I thought better of it.

He turned on his heels, crossing his arms behind his back before strolling to me. The heavy soles of his boots echoed off the wood, and I found myself stepping back, trying to preserve the distance between us.

He matched my strides, ending with my back against the wall as he stood unbearably close. He leaned down, leaving the tip of his beak to nearly touch my nose.

“ Red Lace Manor ,” he said, as if that explained anything .

My pulse jumped to my throat, nearly choking me as I tried to heave in another breath.

“And, who are you ?” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide the shaking of my hands.

Another sound of disapproval left him, and he stood straighter.

“Names aren’t really something you need,” he said.

I pushed back further into the wall, desperate for an extra inch between us, but the crown moulding in the middle bit into my spine. I fought to conceal my discomfort as the moment between us turned too silent.

I felt like an animal in the zoo being studied.

My captor cleared his throat and straightened his coat.

“If you must summon me, which I don’t believe you’ll want to, you can call me Reaper .”

My stomach bottomed out at the sound, and my mind shot to the Grim Reaper, leaving me to wonder if that’s an actual nickname, or a promise.

“W-what are you going to do to me?” My voice was soft and breathy.

Reaper turned away, arms crossed behind his back as he started to walk away.

“Come, Miss Rhodes. The others would like to meet you before the game begins .”

For safety reasons, I should probably follow him, but the fact that heknewmy name kept me firmly anchored in place.

“How do you–”

“Let’s cut this conversation short.” He stopped walking and looked at me over his shoulder.

“I know everything . Your address. The way you like your coffee, typically a S’more Mocha if you’re affording yourself the luxury of a six-dollar coffee, and hidden under Vanilla-Caramel creamer if you’re trying to hide the acrid taste of the instant stuff you use to get you through the day.

” He paused as if testing to see if he was right, which, unfortunately, he was.

“I know that you cry in your car after shifts, and all your credit cards are not only maxed out, but currently delinquent in payments. To top it all off, I know you haven’t been touched by someone, man or woman, in months .

And, if you were to only consider those able to make you orgasm, well, that leaves you with you and the barely functional vibrator you keep in the bedside table that you stole from your last roommate. ”

Suddenly, I felt dizzy, and not in a good way.

“Once again, I know everything .” An almost animalistic growl stole the last word. “And, I am not asking you to come, I am telling you that you must. So, please do.”