Page 28 of The Invite (The Massacre Ball #1)

Nessa

I’m reading the assignments submitted by the students but I’m distracted. After the clock struck ten, I stopped concentrating. Now it’s after midnight and I’m sitting on pins and needles waiting for Augustus’s arrival.

I mean, he did leave with a warning saying nothing had changed in our dynamic.

Him being my masked monster and I his little prey.

So where the hell is he? What sort of game is he in the mood for tonight?

I didn’t even bother locking the front door because what’s the use when it’s not doing its sole job and keeping predators away?

Twice I’ve gone around the house in every single room waiting for him to pop out of the dark corners and assert his power over me in primal ways.

Only to be strangely disappointed at coming up empty, not even his scent lingers. My house is void of his existence.

It should be peaceful, but it isn’t.

Now that I’ve accepted my fate, suddenly he doesn’t bother to show up. It has to be because of last night. After witnessing how flawed I am, he’s lost interest.

No fun in breaking a person who is already tattered in pieces.

So much for his promise that he won’t go easy on me.

By this hour, he would’ve been here with me on my way to a second or third orgasm. Instead, I’m all alone and antsy as hell. Worse, I’m thinking about him and whether he’s changed the bandage around his palm.

I shouldn’t care or worry at all.

He isn’t coming, Nessa.

Shouldn’t I be pleased and relieved that he didn’t come? If I knew I only had to show him my mental scars to get rid of him, I would’ve done it on the first day.

The cold truth in this world is that nobody wants a broken and damaged person. Even my monster felt disgusted. That should tell me something.

Blinding anger boils in my veins.

If he was done with me, then why did he send the car? Was it charity? Pity? An apology for bullying me into canceling the rides with Ace? Because Augustus doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive. His abrupt departure from my life doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t match with his behavior.

Is it another one of his mind games to see how I’d react?

If he’s not here, is he watching from the cameras he put around my house? I tried to look for them as soon as I got home but didn’t see any. He’s hidden them really well.

At the moment, I do not feel watched.

But I am antsy and I can’t seem to shake it off.

Maybe I should accept and celebrate with joy that Augustus is done with me.

My days of hell are over.

I’m free.

Nevertheless, hollowness is all that encompasses me.

***

The next day, I woke up sluggish after not getting a wink of sleep last night. Augustus really didn’t visit. Immediately, I checked my phone and there were no taunting or possessive texts from him. When I left for work, there was no Maverick waiting on my doorstep either.

All of it made me believe the conclusion I came to last night.

Augustus has moved on from his vendetta against me and I need to do the same. The peaceful life I wanted to build here, I can focus on it without looking over my shoulder. However, there is one problem.

The damn car.

I have no idea how to return it to him. Shouldn’t he have asked for it back? Or does he have too many spare cars to pass around? I’m confused. Is he still after me? Is he amusing himself by toying with me?

A test of sorts.

Ugh… my mind is running in circles and I can’t make it stop spinning. It’s as if I’m upset that he didn’t show me the courtesy to tell meit’s over. Or that I’ve become addicted to his brand of torment.

Christ! Augustus has done a number on me in the span of a few days.

“Miss Davenport?”

I jerk from my daydream and focus on Capri. “Yes?”

“I wanted to ask if this assignment will count in our grades?” she asks.

“No, this was just a fun activity I wanted to do to get to know you all,” I assure her with a smile. “Even if I was, you didn’t need to worry because I loved what you wrote. It was an interesting perspective.”

“Thank you.” She perks up. “I’ve always been fascinated with horror movies with masked villains. So, it was cool working on it.”

“I’m glad you enjoyedit, Capri.”

“I did. See you tomorrow.”

The class went by smoothly with the students behaving properly and no arguments breaking out. The bell had rung a few minutes ago and thekids are slowly dispersing. I see Scarlett’s group about to walk out.

“Scarlett, would you hang back for a minute?”

“Why?” Her tone is snooty.

I ignore itsince I know it’s because of her loyalty to her brother. In her eyes, I’m the enemy. Instead of giving a reaction, I calmly reply, “I want to discuss your essay.”

Her friends leave and she struts my way. Scarlett is a stunning girl, even if her attitude could use an adjustment. Judging by the essay she wrote, she’s smart as well.

“What about it?” she asks while looking at her nails, like she’d rather be anywhere else. I long ago taught myself to not let petty behavior affect me.

Besides, as her teacher, I have to be unbiased.

“I wanted to tell youthat it was great. I loved your insights and I could feel as though you connected to the topic personally,” I praise her, which makes her do a double take.

I smile inwardly. “Most of your peers wrote how they found masked men hot rather than using it as an opportunity to dig deeper.”

The initial shock evaporates and she impatiently huffs, “Thanks. Is that all?”

Now to the hard part. I shuffle the papers around on my desk until I find what I’m looking for and slap it toward her. She glances at them briefly and tilts her head for me to explain.

“Mind telling me whose assignments these are and why you slipped them in with the rest of the papers?”

Yeah, you’re not as sneaky as you thought, Scarlett Grayson.

Rather than deny it, she cocks her hip to the side and answers, unafraid, “Augustus’s and Maverick’s. Their roll numbers are at the top.”

“You very well know they are suspended, Scarlett.”

“I don’t see no reason why their grades should suffer.” Pressing a finger on the top of the papers, she slides it across to me. “I’ll be submitting this month’s assignments on their behalf also.”

Arrogance seems to run in the Grayson family. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s because of their mother.

“I’m the teacher and I don’t take orders from my students. So, I’m giving you a chance to take these back and we can forget this whole thing happened.”

I expect an argument from her entitled self, but she shocks me with an ultimatum.

“You’re the one who signed an NDA, Miss Davenport.

The parties involved in the contract don’t include me and I will spread the bullshit lies you accused my brother and Maverick of to the entire school.

I will do it in such a way that it’ll look like you told it.

Thus, breaching the contract and losing your job.

” Staring down her nose at me with a smirk, she warns, “Let me tell you another thing, you do not want to cross my mother. So, I’d suggest you take these two assignments and grade them properly. ”

Without waiting for a response, knowing she’s got me, she turns and leaves the classroom. The saddest part is I know she wasn’t bluffing, which means I cannot risk losing the job that I’m beginning to enjoy.

Every time a kid gives me hell, I cannot run to the dean with my tail tucked between my legs and demand their expulsion.

I have to choose and pick my battles.

And I have no plans on including these essays as part of the curriculum. What Scarlett doesn’t realize is that she’s shown me her cards. Next time, I’ll see her coming and it won’t be her who comes out on top.

***

You know how one gets a feeling that something is too good to be true.

Well, I am getting it very strongly right now.

Augustus Grayson has miraculously left me alone.

Because it’s been five straight days of nothing but pin-drop silence.

Whether it’s the calm before the storm or the light at the end of the dark tunnel that I’ve managed to pass through with minor scars, I don’t know.

On Wednesday, I had stayed up all night again wondering when he’d show up before passing out on the couch in the living room. I didn’t sleep a wink the next night either, and the next while still believing he was playing a mind game with me. Before I knew it, four whole nights had gone by.

Now, I’m absolutely certain he isn’t returning. I thought I’d be jumping up and down in victory at making it out unscathed, but I don’t feel an iota of it. Yes, there is relief like a dark cloud has passed. However, bright sunlight is nowhere in sight.

Without him, life has become stress-free.

And dull… Boring… Predictable.

He’s cut himself out of my life so ruthlessly that it’s like he was never even here. Just a ghost of him.

Does it mean I’m missing the psycho?

Perhaps it’s because there are reminders of him. The beautiful and erotic sketches he drew of me. I haven’t found the courage to destroy them.

His SUV, which I’m taking to school every day despite the fact mine has finally arrived. It’s still sitting in my driveway. They both make a before and after picture. His looks classic and shiny, whereas mine isold and worn-down.

It’s one of the reasons I’m using Augustus’s for traveling, especially for work. If I use mine, it’ll raise questions. For example, what kind of person downgrades to a cheap model?

It was enough when I had to explain to Ace that the SUV was the last gift from my parents which they got from their savings. Just one of the many lies I’m telling my only genuine friend.

Speaking of which, I no longer need to maintain distance from him. The threat over him no longer applies, which means I can invite him whenever.

Or maybe you want to poke the beast .

No! Of course not.

You miss Augustus.

Hell no! This is me living my life without being scared. Besides, who wants to spend Saturday night alone watching boring TV? Picking up my phone, I decide to text Ace and invite him for dinner.

However, once I unlock it, my mind has a different idea and makes my finger click on the Trilltok app. I scroll over mindlessly, watching familiar masked men fill my page. Some of the locals show up too.

Everyone ispreparing for the upcoming Massacre Ball, which is still a few weeks away. But it’s spooky season, so excitement is at its peak.

As if my subconscious conjured Augustus, a new reel of him pops up and I bolt upright against the arm of the couch. He’s on his black sports bike speeding inside the same underground tunnel with yellow and orange streetlights glinting above.

His face is hidden behind his matching helmet while wearing a half-sleeved tee that shows off his dark tattoos against sun-kissed skin and blue cargo pants. My heart hitches every time he throttles the engine before lifting the front tire in the air.

A pulse thrums to life in my pussy as I imagine the purr between my thighs while sitting behind him on his bike.

The muscles in his biceps and forceps bunch and flex so provocatively that it’s a miracle they don’t bust out of his tee.

When he turns his head to look straight into the camera, it feels likehe’s peering into my soul even though I can’t see his eyes.

As if that’s not enough, my jaw drops when at the last second he takes both hands off the bike handles and balances it with his legs. A nanosecond later, the video finishes.

When the incessant ache between my thighs becomes unbearable, I shove my hands inside my leggings and rub my clit. The friction is so soothing and divine that I throw my head back and continuously flick the bundle of nerves until I shatter into a blissful orgasm that shakes me to the bone.

It was four days of pent-up need that made me come so quickly.

Yet I become more frustrated.

Panting, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling in shame.

It’s like my body hasn’t received the message that my sinister monster is gone.

With my emotions riding high, I snatch the phone from where it dropped to the side and open up the chat.

My fingers tap on the screen at a furious pace and I hit send.

@nessatheatheist: Have I finally gotten rid of you?

My heart begins to race when after a good long minute, he comes online. It says he read my text and I wait for the dots to appear but nothing happens.

No reply comes from him.

The blatant disregard maddens me.

@nessatheatheist: You better not show your face in my house ever again, Augustus.

Again, he reads it but doesn’t apply.

@nessatheatheist: Take your damn car. I don’t want it.

@nessatheatheist: If it’s not gone by tomorrow, I’m getting it scrapped.

The lack of responses is somehow more humiliating than anything else he’s done. I truly feel like a toy that’s been discarded.

A loud knock at my door startles me and I jump.

Is Augustus here?

My body comes alive and I run to the front door, intending to give him a piece of my mind. But when I wrench open the door, cold air bombards me head to toe.

I look left and right on the street but I see no one. I swear if it’s Augustus doing a pra—

A familiar-looking envelope catches my eye on the doormat.

Anonymous.

I recognize it immediately as I bend to pick it up.

Christ! Not this again.

Shutting the door, I fling the envelope open, and read it.

Nessa,

The week is up and I’ve come to collect.

Is it something juicy?

Creepy?

It better fucking be.

You do want to win, don’t you?

Post the dirty little secret online tomorrow before midnight.

The clock is ticking!!!

Tick.

Tick.

BOOM!

Xoxo, A.

“Stupid and a waste of time.”

I crush it and throw it in the bin.

I’m done with everything and everyone in this godforsaken town.