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CHAPTER 3

J essica

“Are you there? I can feel you. I know it’s you,” I whispered as I stared into the darkness. There was no light yet I could sense shapes. He was there as he always was, waiting and watching, preparing to take me.

A slight shift brought a wave of energy into the room, a rush of electricity so significant my breath was caught in my throat.

Excitement tore through every muscle even as the little voice in the back of my mind reminded me that he was a monster. But I no longer cared. I belonged to him.

The mixture of feelings was always the same.

Excitement.

Longing.

Rage.

And the need to surrender.

To him. Only him.

I threw back the covers, lowering my feet to the floor. My heart continued to hammer as it had done the first night I’d met him, the night when he’d shown me his true colors.

And his intense desire.

I knew I’d been in love with him ever since that fateful meeting.

As I rose to my full height, I heard only the labored sounds of my breathing. But he was still watching.

Waiting.

Challenging me as he enjoyed doing.

I’d worn a nightgown for him just in case. Now I tugged one strap over my shoulder very slowly, rolling the tips of my fingers across my breastbone to the other. I allowed my fingers to trail behind the second strap, lifting my head only once in search of his eyes.

Eyes I’d only imagined, envisioning in my sleep.

The slight noise drew my attention as I allowed my gown to pool around my feet. I was finally able to see the neon glow of the X marks covering his eyes. They were even more illuminated than before, the evil grin that never changed in the dark material keeping me on edge.

I lowered my thong until I was able to step out and kick the thin lace away. I’d never been so bold before, always feigning sleep when he’d arrived. This time, I held my head high, daring him to step forward.

To claim me as I knew he craved doing.

He finally advanced from the darkness, his steps predatory. “Do you remember all the things you asked for, Desdemona?”

The monster remained just out of reach. But I could hear him, the rapid intake of his breath floating toward me as a beacon of his own needs. “What are you talking about?”

“The hunger that you couldn’t escape, the intense yearning to break free of the chains you placed yourself in the day you turned eighteen. You long to be set free. To be hunted. And captured. That’s exactly what I’ve done, little lamb.”

He moved closer and I was suddenly afraid. Not from the stranger who’d awakened my senses, but by the truth in his words. Those were the games I excelled at, thriving in dark worlds where virtuality and reality crashed together in a sea of vibrations. They were games so violent and sexual that few players lasted.

But I was the best at what I did.

I was an expert, a woman to be reckoned with.

He took another step, now so close I gathered a strong whiff of his scent, the aroma so masculine and overpowering that I could become lost in the tingling sensations.

Reaching out, he gripped my jaw, forcing his thumb into my mouth. “Perfect. Just like I knew you’d be.”

I sucked his thick digit without being asked, wishing desperately I could look into his eyes.

Every move he made was calculated and he used his other hand, pushing me down to a sitting position. Every thought, every wish I’d experienced late at night after he’d left had been a dozen versions of how our meeting would go. But nothing had prepared me for the level of hunger or the excitement that had driven me to the edge of a steep cliff.

My imagination had stripped me of any sense of reality. There was only this man and my raging needs. Nothing else mattered.

He released his hold, taking a deep breath as he wiggled his wet thumb. As he trailed his fingertips down my face, I was reminded of the first night and how he’d smeared blood from one side of my jaw to the other.

This wasn’t romance. This also wasn’t forever, but I didn’t care.

Without saying anything else, he unfastened his dark jeans, releasing his cock. The long shaft was as thick as I’d envisioned and nothing else mattered but bringing him pleasure.

I shouldn’t want this. I couldn’t need this, but as the moonlight streaming in from the blinds highlighted the size of him, my mind was filled with filthy thoughts.

“Is this what you want, Desdemona? To be fucked like a little whore?”

A brief moment of apprehension trickled into my system. He’d know if I was lying. He knew everything about me.

So I nodded, almost as if my mind had followed my body in acquiescing to the monster.

Surrendering to his twisted needs.

“That’s a good girl. Now, open your pretty lips wide.”

I did as he asked, even as I felt my eyes fill with tears.

“Aw. You’re afraid of me, my lamb. You should be. I’m going to give you exactly what you want, a taste of blood and a sense of belonging. Wider, little lamb. I need to feel your jaws clamping down on my dick the moment I impale that sweet mouth of yours.”

As he rubbed the tip of his cock across my lips, I gathered a sweet taste of his pre-cum.

He thrust his cock inside, shoving the tip against the back of my throat as he dug his fingers into my neck, squeezing until it was impossible to breathe. “That’s perfect, sweet Desdemona. Now suck me dry.”

A bold and heartless set of claws raked across my chest. I jerked up with a gasp, slapping both hands around my throat, touching my skin, feeling for any scrapes.

Or blood.

My instinct screamed for me to run, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped in my room.

There was someone there. I could swear I heard a sharp growl, the raspy sound more like an injured animal determined to seek revenge. This couldn’t be happening.

It was impossible to control the tremors creating a suffocating sense of reality by understanding the dream I’d just experienced had seemed so real.

You’re safe. Just a dream. Nothing more.

But I couldn’t be convinced. Images flooded my mind of the horrors I’d experienced only hours before. My God. What had I stumbled into?

I sucked in air, blinking over and over again until the tears stinging my eyes rolled down both cheeks. Somewhere between memories of the horror from the night before and the ugliness from dreaming about a sick man, the fog disrupting my mind began to clear.

The monster wasn’t standing in front of me. He wasn’t hovering over my bed, eager to force me to suck his thick cock. I folded my arms, rubbing them ferociously. Something had been here. No, someone.

I knew it. I felt his presence. And I gathered a lingering scent of his aftershave. Oh, my God. He knew where I lived. As I jerked the covers up to my shoulders, I fought the anger and terror, the combination making me sick. Think. I had to think.

So many games were competition based, often several players at the same time. Many allowed for communication, the virtual headsets capturing every moan of frustration, every whimper of desire. Who was he? I closed my eyes, reaching out to my memories, trying to narrow down the most avid players.

And those who became the angriest with their loss.

There were too many because I didn’t stick to a single game. I played more than a dozen depending on my mood. They were research, my livelihood. Being an active participant in the gaming world also allowed me a feeling of family, something I needed desperately. I was sick inside. Angry for not fighting the monster. Furious for falling into a twisted web he had woven around him like a suit of armor.

Remember, you’re a good girl.

I laughed and cinched my eyes shut. Was I trying to convince myself? If I was so damn good, why had I had a horrible dream? About him? A monster?

I was disgusted with myself for having a sick wet dream about him. What was wrong with me? What secrets had I divulged in the games? That I was an excellent marksman and enjoyed killing enemy soldiers? That I ran into a burning building without hesitation, or I enjoyed walking across flaming hot coals?

No. It wasn’t about the military or assassin games I enjoyed so much.

It was about the goddamn Obsidian Society, some secretive organization I’d yet to learn anything about. If it truly existed, no one knew what it entailed. Whispers of its existence had occurred more than once on the dark web. Of course every gaming company had various tiers of their customers whether anyone knew it or not. That was typical in the competitive world. From what I’d heard about the secret society, the games were so real that several players had allowed their real life to be infused with the darkness of the competition.

The thought excited me more than I should admit.

However, the men and women of the upper tier within the Blackwell Group were all fucking predators. At least in my opinion. They had a penchant for blood and violence. I’d been caught in the trap of enticement the moment I’d won a preview game, beating not only the odds but bringing the darkness straight into my life. The game had followed me home and I was still entranced by the thought of it.

I’d found myself needing reminders of why I’d wanted to infiltrate the company in the first place.

Hate.

Pure. Utter. Black. Hate.

The need for revenge was strong yet right now, I was blinded with far too many other emotions.

I’d continually asked myself about the identity of the man. Since he was obviously from the gaming world, was he vying to be in this fucked-up society?

Was entrance to the special society worth killing someone for? Was it some kind of perverted hazing? I was certain I felt the savior’s presence even now. Rage pushed my actions and I stretched across the bed, flicking on the small lamp on my nightstand. The golden glow creating a moment of warmth was nothing like the iridescent light of the monster’s mask.

There was no one standing in the continuing shadows of the room.

There was no indication he’d been here. But I was certain, so much so I climbed out of bed, checking my bedroom window. The sash was locked just as it should be. That didn’t mean anything. Maybe the front door. Without any regard for safety, I rushed into the front room, flicking on every light as I headed toward the door.

It too remained locked, the impenetrable padlock clicked into position. I’d been wrong.

Wrong.

Another wave of sickness pooled in my stomach and I was forced to rush into the bathroom, dropping to my knees. The nightmare was real. There was no way I was escaping his clutches.

Not until he had what he wanted.