I could feel his shitty little smile.

Finding my position, I slid the blade up the side of his face, going with the grain, because my father did it that way, and Damon didn’t say to do it differently. I shaved one cheek and moved the other, grazing my fingers over his skin to feel for any missed spots.

His warm breath hit my forehead, the heat of his body everywhere, and I knew he was looking down at me, but I suddenly didn’t want to tell him to stop, because for a split second, I remembered how good his arms and hands felt. Even if it was a lie, I let myself enjoy the intimacy I’d been starved for. For just a moment.

I ran the blade down his skin, shaving everywhere I felt stubble. His cheeks, his chin, above his top lip, and below his bottom one, and I dragged my fingers over every inch of jawline to feel for anything I’d missed, and after seconds of my hand on him, I was drawn back to the ballroom seven years ago when he let me look at him with my hands.

Nothing had changed.

I set the blade down and brought both hands up to cup his face. “Just need to check,” I told him, but it came out so soft I wasn’t sure he heard me.

I touched him, grazing my fingertips across his cheekbones, down to his jaw, up his neck, and over the hollows of his cheeks. He moved into it, meeting my touch by cocking his head and turning it, giving me complete access as I checked my work, and then his words came back to me from all that time ago.

Want to check the rest of my body?

Absently, my fingers fell down his neck, and I dug my fingers in just a little, because I wanted to touch more, and I hated myself for it.

His breathing turned labored, and he pressed his hands into the grooves of my thighs where they met my hips, kneading them.

He leaned down, his nose brushing mine as he pressed his chest into me and growled in a whisper, “Winter…”

I gripped his shoulders, feeling the ridge of his hard cock nudge me between my legs as heat pooled in my groin. My heart pounded. I wanted to run away.

And I wanted him to rip off my clothes, too.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

He fell into me, pushing me back against the mirror, and I rolled myself into him, my clit throbbing with the tease of his muscle through his towel.

And I knew…even with as good as he felt and how lonely I’d been, because I couldn’t trust anyone or myself after the humiliation of that video, once it was done, I’d hate myself. I’d hate myself for letting him have a piece of me again.

I turned away from him, pushing at his body to get free. “Get off me.”

But he stayed there a moment, breathing hard.

“Why?” he finally asked. “You seem to like me.”

“Get off me!” I snapped. “You’re not getting that from me.”

I shoved at him, putting all of my strength against his chest, but he just rumbled with a laugh.

“I’ve already had that,” he said, his voice sharp and threatening. “Now I want your sanity. Just a little turn of the screw…”

I scrambled out from underneath him, stood up, and slammed him in the chest.

He stumbled back, laughing again. “All in good—”

“Yo, Winter!” a shout damn near shook the house from downstairs. “We’re here!”

Huh?

“Who is that?” Damon demanded. “That sounds like Will.”

But he didn’t give me a chance to answer. He shot past me, and I let out a breath, relief washing over me as I remembered my talk with Will last night.

Coldfield.

I’d been talking to Will and his friend, Alex, at the party, telling them how fun the new haunted house park was and how I wanted to go back before it closed for the season.

Since I’d kind of left abruptly last time and hadn’t gotten around to everything.

They hadn’t gone yet, and so we said we’d go tonight.

I’d completely forgotten.

After the past twenty-four hours, I wasn’t in the mood for haunted houses tonight, but anywhere was better than here.

I walked out of the bathroom and master bedroom, across the landing and to the railing, showing myself to wherever they were in the foyer below.

“Why are you two here?” Damon asked them, and I startled, realizing I’d stopped next to him.

Great. I was in my pajamas, he was in a towel, and we both just came out of his bedroom. Perfect.

“None of your business,” Will told him. And then to me, “Winter, show Alex to your room. She’s going to help you get ready.”

I then heard footfalls on the stairs, getting closer.

Ready? I was capable of getting dressed on my own.

“Why do you have your mask?” I heard Damon ask Will, I would assume.

The way he said ‘your mask’ sounded like Damon had one, too. All the horsemen did, I’d heard.

“Fucker, no one’s talking to you,” Will barked back.

I snorted, and I could feel Damon fume next to me.

Will was fun. I think I liked him.

Damon didn’t have a chance to question me, though, because a cool, slender hand took my arm, and I led Alex down the hall to my bedroom, a little more excited for the night out than I was a moment ago.

I wanted a fun outfit, a drink, and some chills and thrills.

As long as none of them came from Damon Torrance.

It wasn’t just any night on the Coldfield calendar of events. It was 18 & Over Night, which meant no minors allowed, hard liquor and cocktails served, and clothing didn’t have to leave much to the imagination. Costumes encouraged.

We walked through the entrance, brandishing our All Access wristbands, and I pulled my skirt taut as much as I could, feeling a little shy. Fun outfit, indeed. Alex was interesting, and to think she got nearly everything I was wearing from my own closet.

After we’d disappeared into my bedroom, she got busy, making short work of my hair and makeup and doing my face up like some clown. Or a sexy clown, as she’d said. She painted some designs on my forehead with tear drops under my eyes and finished it off with red paint on the tip of my nose and some black lipstick outlined with white around my lips.

While I’d been asleep, I’d received a voice text from my mother, letting me know she and Ari were okay and that I was going to be fine.

No calls. No further information.

They were okay, and I was going to be fine.

Cryptic and cruel, and I didn’t understand it.

I’d tried calling both of them, but they didn’t answer, and I wasn’t sure I expected them to. What would they say, after all?

What had Damon told my mother?

Maybe he was a smooth talker and made her assurances? Maybe the financial arrangement was too good to pass up. Maybe she was just tired of fighting.

Just a little turn of the screw…

His taunt echoed in my mind again, and whatever he was planning wasn’t something by force like I’d thought. He was trying to wind his way into my head.

Alex teased and fluffed my hair, the heaven I was in with all the grooming and being touched starting to relax me, but then she went to my closet, dug out some things, and with my permission, began ripping and cutting to make me a costume.

I wore my fluffy, black miniskirt with tulle layered underneath, a strappy, leather bra she’d had with her, and the tutu torn off one of my ballet costumes from when I was little wrapped around my neck in a big collar. She dressed up my wrists with whatever I had in my armoire and sprayed some body glitter on my stomach, legs, and arms.

She tried to put heels on me but quickly realized that would be a mistake—as I’d told her it would be—and I slipped into my black Chucks instead.

But before we left the room, she remembered one last thing.

Fangs.

Sharp, smooth, and acrylic, she took out her extra set, mixed up the plaster, filled the grooves inside the two fangs, and asked me if I wanted them on my canines or incisors.

Blade or True Blood?

Blade.

Canines, it was. She fastened them on top on my real teeth, and I held them for a couple of minutes, letting the plaster dry and getting used to the feeling. The points brushed against the inside of my bottom lip, but otherwise they felt pretty functional.

I was ready.

I wasn’t sure how I looked, but Will let out a whistle when I came down, and Damon let me leave with no problem. In fact, he was unusually pleasant about the whole thing. About me going out with his friends half-naked.

It kind of gave me pause.

Have fun, he’d said in a tone more loaded than I could figure out.

Whatever. I was sure I’d deal with him later tonight.

“Drinks!” Alex called out, ordering our first stop of the evening.

People swarmed the park, squeals and screams going off around me as others ran or chased, one bumping into me, and “Bloodletting” by Concrete Blonde played from somewhere in the distance while spooky, haunted sounds of creaking doors and evil laughter drifted from the speakers around us. I inhaled, the smell of the earth hitting the back of my throat, and the kerosene from the torches going straight to my head.

I held onto Will’s arm as we made our way through a throng of people over to the liquor and food stands I smelled last time that we didn’t get a chance to try out.

“What’ll you have?” he said as we stopped. “Looks like they can do mixed drinks, shots, draft and bottled beer, wine…”

He reached into his back pocket, so I let his arm go to let him move.

“Um, beer,” I answered. “Any lager is fine. Bottle. Unopened, please.”

“Good girl.”

Yeah. And not really what I was in the mood for, but it was the only thing I was sure wouldn’t be tampered with. In a setting like this, with all these people and madness around…

“Oh, wait, I have money.” I slipped my fingers through the straps of my bra under the clown collar where I concealed my money clip and phone.

But he just laughed. “Yeah, so do I. Don’t worry about it.”

I pulled my hand back out. “Thanks.”

Really, how was he Damon’s best friend back in the day? He was so different. Did he like abuse or something?