Page 3 of The Invite (The Massacre Ball #1)

Nessa

Flipping me onto my back before I have a chance to truly beg, my wrists are once again cuffed with the heavy chain. I’d fight but my strength is no match for his.

Every single decision I made tonight slaps me in the face.

The biggest one is stepping into this forest alone.

Now, my screams for help will be unanswered and I’m going to die.

Escaped from one predator and trapped by another.

Forcing me to my knees using the chain as a leash, he says, “Walk on your own or we’ll make you crawl. Your choice.”

“Don’t do this,” I beg.

He exhales in irritation and shakes his head. “Crawl it is.”

“No.” I grab his leg. “I-I’ll walk.”

Silently, he lets me up, stands behind, and shoves me in the direction of his friend with a hand on my back.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“You gave us quite a few delightful options,” he drawls. “Obey us and they might just be fun for you.”

A lone tear falls from my eyelid and I bite my lip to stifle the panic attack brewing like lava inside my chest. I stop before his friend. Shuffling closer, he catches my tear on his thumb before it drips off my chin.

The starlight strikes at the right moment and I notice the ocean blue color of his eyes. So beautiful that it makes me wonder what they both look like beneath their masks. An inkling in my core whispers their faces won’t be as ugly and heinous as their vicious deeds.

“Crying already?” he whispers, leaning into my face.

I stagger back in disgust but forget I have nowhere to run when I hit a muscular wall. I hate how my traitorous body notices how finely built he is, lulling my brain into a false sense of safety. My five-foot-three frame barely reaches the middle of their chest.

Lips hidden beneath a thin cloth brush my cheek, sending pinpricks of fear all over my limbs. “Save your tears, prey.”

Taking my elbows in each hand on either side of my body, they drag me deeper into the forest, away from freedom. They seem to know exactly where to turn, their destination fixed and giving away the fact I’m not their first victim.

Or they know these woods too well.

It’s a second home for them.

I can’t keep up with the turns and lose track of where we are, in case I decide to run. My only bet, if I get a chance, is to hide in a spot until they eventually give up and leave.

“You think too loud, I can hear your useless thoughts.”

“You’re still kidnapping me.”

“Since when did making a girl feel good become a crime?” he retorts.

His friend snickers.

I’m shoved against a tree. An oomph escapes my lips at the sudden impact. I twist away but he grasps my upper arms to hold me immobile while his friend circles back. Unbinding my wrists, he ties the chain just below my breasts, fastening me to the immovable tree.

No. No. No.

“D-don’t tie m-me.”

My predicament dawns on me in shock waves.

Leaning back, my monster admires his partner’s handiwork. Though I can’t see his face, there’s a pleased smile in his pupils that doesn’t bode well for me.

“What are you going to do?”

“We play,” teases the shirtless friend, joining in the front.

However, my gaze is locked on the one calling the shots. Heart in my throat, I gulp when his hand reaches out to take the knife from his partner.

Oh no! Is he going to stab me?

The sight of it makes my knees give out, but the chains hold me up. I fight against the binds, the cold metal cutting into my arms painfully.

“Unchain me!!”

He flips the knife in the air before catching it in his open palm while staring right at me. I swallow nervously when he edges closer and uses the pointy tip under my chin. There’s no hiding the tremble, despite my attempts to stay frozen.

“Don’t cut me,” I whimper, closing my eyes. “Please.”

He trails it down the slope of my neck. “Don’t move.”

“Please… no.”

Vicious memories try to claw their way back to the surface.

The blade draws a path to my pounding pulse and presses. I instinctively turn my head and it nicks my skin, not enough to draw blood. It’s demonic how calm and collected the men are. While I’m seconds away from passing out.

I squeeze my eyes shut harder, as if it’ll make me vanish or forget this is happening. But my mind doesn’t cooperate and focuses intently on the knife tracing between my breasts, down to my flat belly, and then it’s gone.

Terror darker than earlier seizes me when the weapon returns, touching right below the short hem of my skirt. The sound of the stocking on my right leg tearing under the spiked tip pierces the air.

The fear of accidentally cutting my skin forces me to keep still.

It becomes ten times tougher to not move when he pushes his hand underneath my skirt, climbing higher and higher.

“Stop!” I sob, panting. “Don’t.”

“Look at me.” His voice is a seductive lullaby that’ll haunt me for an eternity.

I don’t obey, shaking my head.

“ Open. ” The knife traces my inner thigh. “ Your. ” Ascending closer. “ Eyes .” It stops right against my heat. “ Now .”

Flinching, my eyelids flash open just as he hooks the tip into the waistband of my panties against my hip bone and slices it in two. The shock of it elicits a terrifying scream from my throat.

It abruptly cuts off when his palm covers my mouth.

“I didn’t tell you to scream,” he admonishes, slicing the other side of my panties and ripping the fabric clean off me.

I close my legs to protect my bare sex.

He slaps the flat side of the blade on my outer leg, commanding, “Spread.”

“No.” My voice is a distorted mess. My vision swims between black and white as vivid memories strike my mind.

Looking to his right, he flicks his chin at his friend, who I completely forgot about. I struggle when he steps forward and shakes his head at me before wrenching my thighs apart.

“Don’t touch me,” I warn angrily when my mouth is freed.

My protest is met with his hand boldly cupping my pussy. However, momentary relief washes over when the knife is gone.

I squirm, rising on my toes to get away when he dips one finger through my slit. Like the manipulative monster he is, he coerces my body’s naivety against my rational brain.

Watching my face through hooded eyes, he teasingly caresses my sex up and down. His thumb joins, circling my clit. Coaxing it from its hood until it’s swollen and hard, he flicks it. Repeatedly. All the while, his other finger strokes every crevice and nudges against my opening.

I don’t want to enjoy it.

Repulsion should crawl out of every pore in my body.

The opposite happens.

I become… wet .

“How is she?” rasps his friend in a husky note.

“Soaked,” he replies. I stifle a moan when he thrusts his finger into my entrance without warning. “Tight.”

It hurts.

His shirtless friend chuckles, digging his fingers into my flesh deeper. His nose nudges my ear, before he taunts, “I can smell your arousal, prey.”

“I am not aroused,” I grit out, shame heating my cheeks. Looking away, I will my body to hate his sinful touch, confusing and distracting me.

The knife appears in front of my face before pressing against my cheek and forcing me to look back at him.

My monster.

I pretend soft fur is grazing my skin instead of the weapon that terrifies me more than the man himself. But doing so heightens the ministrations of his hand between my thighs.

“Eyes on me when I make you come, little runaway,” he orders arrogantly. Curling his finger, he swirls it in my channel until it finds the spot that draws traitorous moans from my lips. “Are you having fun?”

“No.”

Pinching my clit punishingly, he admonishes, “Your wet pussy is telling a different story. Listen to it play my tunes.”

Pressing the knife’s blade against my throat threateningly, his hand picks up its pace and thrusts harder. Massaging my bundle of nerves expertly, a second finger joins the first and bangs my pussy viciously.

Until I’ve no choice but to accept each plunge.

To ride his hand.

To submit to his assault.

“Do you hear how hungry your tight little cunt is?” he darkly murmurs, his palm slapping every time he drives to the hilt. “My hand is a mess from your juices. Does this sound like torture?”

The question isn’t aimed at me.

“Quite the opposite.” His friend hums. Caressing my inner thigh until I throw my head back, mindless and warring against my body’s needs, he murmurs, “They always make a fuss until they’re moaning like a slut.”

A rough hand grabs my throat and tilts it straight.

My eyes barely stay open as they collide with dark and sinister ones.

His chest presses flush against my front, flattening my breasts.

I forget to breathe, my lungs short of oxygen as he bends his head and cups my jaw.

A knuckle strokes my cheek, the corner of my parted lips, and asks, “Are you close? Are you going to come for me, little prey?”

I refuse to answer, as a magnificent ache tightens my lower belly. His fingers scissor inside my walls, stretching them until I whimper.

His fingers are long and thick, hurting every time they slide inside.

“Answer me.” His tone matches the malice in his pupils. “Or it’s my knife you’ll come around, not my hand.”

“Y-yes,” I stammer.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Now, let me hear you come.”

His command sinks into my veins and I lose my senses in his pistoning hand. I’ve never felt this intensity, the barbarity, and so much wicked pleasure all in one breath. It all converges into a powerful throb and I—

“What the hell?” a shrill voice screeches.

I blink past the lustful haze.

The spell is broken.

Horrified, I realize I was about to come at the hands of a lunatic sociopath. While another kept me trapped. At the same time, I notice the chain is no longer tying me to the large tree.

Both my captors’ attention is concentrated behind them.

“You found someone else!” accuses the same voice that interrupted us, and it’s an angry girl, whose silhouette is visible in the shadows.

I use the men’s distraction against them.

Shoving against his steel-like chest until his fingers slip out, I dart in the opposite direction and run as fast as my feet carry me.

I don’t dare look over my shoulder.

Every little noise and chatter sends a stab of fear in my chest. Every shadow makes me think it’s them chasing me. I somehow manage my way out of the woods. Exhausted and wounded.

With my phone lost in the scuffle, I only have my memory to rely on.

The driver was right. I end up exactly on my street, which is fortunate because I’m able to find my one-story brick house. I keep looking behind me for anyone following me until I reach my place.

The key is under the mat.

Quickly unlocking the door with trembling fingers, I cross the threshold and slap the door shut. I bolt the lock.

Slumping down to the floor, I will my heart to calm down and stress over how the hell I am going to survive tomorrow with no phone and clothes. I only have a little cash hidden in my bra.

This little town was supposed to be my fresh start.

A chance at a normal and quiet life.

It’ll be neither, not after tonight’s close call with death and my predators out in the wild. I’ll have to keep my guard up because they could be anyone. I could run into them on the street and never know they own my nightmares.

Especially him.

The monster with sinister eyes .