Page 21 of The Invite (The Massacre Ball #1)

Nessa

There was no sign of Augustus when Ace dropped me off at home, which was a relief.

But now that the sun has set and I’m finished with my dinner, I’m on high alert and jittery with nerves. Awareness creeps into my skin, raising goosebumps.

He’d be here soon.

My masked monster.

Unlike the other times, I’m prepared tonight. Well, as prepared as I can be. I’ve switched off all the lights in my house and locked the front door. Grabbing a butcher knife from the kitchen, I wait in the living room and stay on guard.

I’m ready to stay up all night if that’s what it takes.

Shifting the curtain over the window slightly to the side, I watch the street. A random car drives past, sending my pulse fluttering for a second.

It’s after ten.

Where is he?

What if he’s skipping tonight?

Ha. No way. I roll my eyes. It sounds comical saying it even in my own head.

Peeping through the minuscule gap, I become restless and bored the longer the road remains deserted. In the distance, I hear only the buzzing noise of insects and mosquitoes mixed with the howls of animals.

One of the streetlamps flickers, feeling like an omen. When it doesn’t stop blinking, I frown and gasp when it suddenly goes off. My room is engulfed by darkness, and the moonlight is my only source of light.

Suddenly, my ass vibrates and I let go of the curtain that blocks the moon.

A scared squeak leaves my lips before I realize it’s just my phone buzzing in my back pocket. Irritated, I yank it out. The screen illuminates and my eyes widen.

@thedeviluworship: I can see you peeking, little prey.

My throat goes dry and I sharply snap my gaze outside after shoving the blinds aside. With paralyzing fear, I frantically gaze left and right but see no one.

Not even a silhouette. Itis as empty as it was a second ago. Only the leaves on the branches of the surrounding forest flutter from the cool night air. He could be hiding at the edge of the woods.

@nessatheatheist: Where are you?

He immediately replies.

@thedeviluworship: Closer than you think.

The phone almost slides from my grasp. My palmsbeginning to sweat. His arrogant taunt notches my nerves higher. I lower the screen light and with shaking fingers, I type out a text.

@nessatheatheist: Why are you hiding then?

@thedeviluworship: You are obviously in the mood to play.

@thedeviluworship: I am too. So, let’s play.

@thedeviluworship: Ever heard of hot and cold?

@nessatheatheist: I’m not stupid. There’s no way I’m coming out of my house.

@thedeviluworship: Who said you have to?

Oh god!

He’s inside!

How?

Stepping away from the window, I run into the hallway and reach the front door. I twist the lock and it doesn’t budge, still locked into place. I don’t dare turn on the flashlight on my phone, in case he’s not joking and is hiding in my house.

In the dark, I fumble and feel for any forced entry but the doorknob is intact.

My heart thumps against my ribs at the rising panic. I can no longer deny that he’s somewhere inside my home. Yet again outwitting me. However, I don’t have time to think about his secret entrance.

Calm down, Nessa.

Deep breaths.

A loud bang wrenches a scream out of me. It came from upstairs. I glance up and hear the floor creak as though someone is strolling right above.

My phone pings with another message when thefootsteps stop.

A mocking and daring one at once.

@thedeviluworship: Shall we?

Hell no.

I’m getting the fuck away from here. Rushing into the living room, I cautiously walk toward the mantel below the television, where I’ve kept the key. I reach and skim my hand over the surface while using the dim light of the phone screen.

My hackles rise when I don’t find the key.

I swear I put it here.

Does this mean I’m locked in? What is happening? Is my mind playing tricks on me just like Augustus is?

@thedeviluworship: Cold.

Shit. He’s started the game.

I grip the knife’s handle tighter and away from my body. It feels funny in my hand, like I don’t know how to use it. I don’t want to accidentally cut or stab myself. It hurts like a bitch, like someone is gutting you raw and twisting your insides with multiple fists.

Besides, one scar is enough.

I don’t want to make it a pattern by collecting more.

However, I’m not above stabbing Augustus to show him he’s messed with the wrong girl. He has it coming after making me suffer through his tyranny and refusal to leave me alone.

On tiptoes, I move toward the arched doorway of the living room that leads to the staircase. As I close in on it, a text comes. Without pausing, I glance at my phone.

@thedeviluworship: Warm.

It confirms my suspicions he’s upstairs. A gloomy feeling rises because if he’s on the floor above, then how can he see where I’m going?

Has he installed cameras behind my back?

Is that how he’s tracking my moves? What other explanation could be there besides him hijacking my house? He could’ve easily done it while I was at work.

I search the ceilings for signs of a red dot or something but catch nothing.

@thedeviluworship: I’m waiting.

@nessatheatheist: Did you put cameras in my house?

@thedeviluworship: Cold.

I squeeze the phone in frustration, fighting the urge to throw it against the wall or possibly at him. Instead, I begrudgingly trudge forward. I’ve climbed two steps when he sends another message.

@thedeviluworship: Colder.

I scowl when I suddenly feel a shadow move past my back. Whipping around with my heartbeat jumping to my throat, I squint my eyes down the hallway splitting my kitchen from the living room.

Stepping onto the landing, I walk a little farther and listen out for any noises or his footsteps.

@thedeviluworship: Warmer.

The kitchen is empty but a glass sits near the sink, which wasn’t there before.

@nessatheatheist: Thirsty much?

I can’t resist taunting him. The bubble shows up that he’s typing a reply. I use that opportunity to peek into the living room. If only I could see the light from his phone to get the upper hand.

@thedeviluworship: Only for your creamy cum, Miss Nessa.

My pussy quivers remembering the rough strokes of his tongue.

@thedeviluworship: No cheating.

Color warms my cheek. I jump when a feathery light touch brushes over my hips and I whip around. Was it my imagination or a ghost? Augustus can’t vanish into thin air.

I’m tempted to use the flashlight on my phone but I don’t want him to see the weapon I’m clutching.

Bypassing the kitchen, I reenter the drawing room. The curtain flies at the perfect time and I catch a dark figure walking out the door at the opposite end. I’m certain that it’s him, not a figment of my overactive imagination.

I walk ahead past the couch.

@thedeviluworship: Warmer.

Staring at the phone, I speed up my steps.

@thedeviluworship: Hot.

My breath racing, I reach the same doorway and round it with exhilaration.

@thedeviluworship: Hotter.

But I see no one in the hall. My shoulders slump at his toying. Is he trying to run me around in circles? Is he even in my house?

I take a step back and collide with a wall.

Hot breath tickles my ear right before a strong pair of arms winds around my waist. A deep voice whispers, “Caught you, little prey.”

I’m lifted off the tiled floor like I weigh nothing. My trembling gasp is swallowed by the darkness. Without properly aiming from my awkward position, I throw my wrist holding the knife back, and hit nothing.

Damn it.

But my weapon is revealed.

Still, I bring my arm forward with the intent to stab him in the hand around my waist but Augustus’s reflexes are fast. He snatches it from my grasp after twisting my wrist. All the while holding me against his body with one arm.

“That’s how you wanna play tonight, teach?” he taunts. A hint of sordid amusement.

Fear courses through my veins in anticipation of his punishment.

I hope to God he doesn’t stab me back.

My chest heaves with my pants and I freeze at the smooth feel of the knife’s blade that he presses against my neck.

“Is my fiery little prey curious about knife play?” His low tone is full of heat at the prospect. Except, he’s insane if he thinks it’d be something I’m interested in. After my experience with knives the last time, it’d be the last thing I want anywhere near me.

It takes focusing on my infuriation at him to diffuse the bubbling alarm.

“No,” I angrily growl. “It’s to stab and bleed you to death.”

“Well, you failed.”

“Tonight. We’ll see about tomorrow.”

“After I finish tonight—” He digs the pointed edge in the hollow of my throat. “—you won’t be so daring.” The knife trails upward until it pokes under my chin and forces me to tilt my head lest I want to get hurt. “You’ll think twice about stabbing me.”

“One of these days, I will get the upper hand and you’ll be sorry, Augustus.”

“I look forward to it.” A manic undertone is in his voice.

My chest rises and falls with each inhale and exhale while I try my best to remain still against his steadily beating heartbeat.

I’m hyperaware of every part of him that’s touching me.

His large hand splayed over my lower belly.

The tip of his thumb brushing against the waistband of my loose sleep shorts.

Holding me like his possession.

His breakable toy.

My hand resting on his palm shakes as I learn the shape of his long fingers. Etch them into memory. The same fingers that draw and gift me sketches of all the depraved deeds he commits to my body in all their haunting and dark glory.

The difference in our size isstark and scary.

I forget the danger he exudes momentarily and trace my hand toward his wrist, wanting to feel his skin but only touch the fabric of his hoodie. Desperate to feel he’s human and not a monster as my heart believes, I don’t stop despite being excessively aware of the knife under my chin.

Slipping my exploring fingers underneath the sleeve, I shudder at the contact. At the tiny tease of his flesh. There’s a light smattering of hair that adds to his masculinity. They rub underneath the pads of my fingers.

I keep going higher and jolt at the sharp pinprick of pain against my jaw.

He poked me with the blade!

Yet all I do is tighten my other hand curled around his wrist at my nape, trying to ease the pressure. Yanking me flush against his chest using the palm on my stomach, something soft touches my ear.

I instantly recognize it as his mask.

Daringly, I tilt my head farther to see his face concealed behind a black ski mask. The cutouts reveal his dark gaze quite intensely while his mouth is of a white skull with rotten teeth painted on the outside.

It’s jarring and spine-chilling.

He must feel my pulse pounding in my neck.

“Want to feel me, little prey?” he whispers, but silence heightens the notes. Brushing his veiled lips over mine, he says, “Want to explore my body like I’ve done yours? Are you disappointed by the mask? Are you craving my mouth on your little pink pussy again?”

His vulgar words draw a wild shudder from my body. My nipples tighten behind my bra. While the scent of my arousal permeates the air.

“No.” I sound weak even to my own ears.

“Stop lying to us both.”

I twist my neck, refusing to admitit.

“One of these days, I will have you admit the truth that you love our games, Nessa.” He throws my words back at me with a smirk in his low tone. “Until then, I’ll gladly be the evil monster haunting you when we both know you have the same sickness inside you.”

“Never.”

Instead of replying, he removes the knife from its precarious position but my relief is short-lived. In the next breath, he hooks it in the neckline of my camisole and stretches the thin material.

“Why do you even bother with clothes?” he drawls huskily. “You know I like you naked and vulnerable.”

His intention dawns on me and my defiance turns into smoke.

I lift my hand, intending to stop him.

“Lower your hands,” he sharply orders. “Unless you want to get cut.” Bending, he darkly mentions, “Know this, the sight of your blood will only turn me on.”

Freezing in my struggle, I shut my eyelids and hear the smooth slicing of my top being torn into two. It parts, revealing my bra and he cuts that into two next.

I pant roughly, biting my lip to stop from screaming.

I’m utterly defeated.

There is no escaping him.

Augustus is always two steps ahead of me. I never see him coming.

When my breasts pop free, he exhales roughly. Like the sight of them is too much for him. From his height, he can easily see my pointed nipples.

“Fuck! You have such pretty tits,” he praises. “I can’t wait to have my mouth on them and mark you with my teeth.”

They harden more at his carnal threat.

Toying with one tip by circling the knife around it, he harshly pushes my shorts down my legs. When they puddle at my feet, he slides them aside with his boot. I wait for him to slice my panties next.

He does something worse.

His large palm cups me and rubs his middle finger against the damp spot. I’m horrified that I’m wet. I’ve never been turned on by violence and being captured. So why now? Why is he flipping my brain chemistry?

“Still not going to accept the truth, little prey?” he taunts, tracing my slit up and down until more wetness leaks from my hole. “I bet you’ve been soaked since the moment I said I was inside your house.”

Shifting my panties to the side, he dips his finger in my slickness and around my clit before bringing it to my lips. Shamelessly, he paints the outline and shoves it into my mouth, forcing me to taste my humiliation.

“Taste my barbarity, Miss Nessa.” Gagging me until I choke, he taunts, “Taste what a nasty slut you are.”

Thrusting the finger in and out, he ruthlessly slashes my drenched panties.

I’m pushed against the nearest wall. I turn my face to the side, my palms slapping against the surface just as he wrenches my hips back.

My eyes fling open at the same time he presses the knife’s handle against my clit. I protest, “No.”

My objection falls on deaf ears.

Holding me by the nape, he reminds me sinisterly, “Like I said, you’ll think twice before stabbing me.”