Page 4 of Scream, Little Thief

I hurry along, desperately trying to remember the route I’m taking in case I wind up in a dead end and have to turn back.

The spooky music plays on no matter which way I turn, as if it’s coming from everywhere. Only, the moans and whimpers are getting more intense by the second. Laughter turns into screams of pleasure, accompanied by the rustle of fabric and a rhythmic pounding.

“I’m gonna hunt you down, and when I catch you, you’re mine to play with.”

Reaper’s deep voice follows me in my mind even though I can’t see him now.

How did I ever think I could just walk through this maze without being affected by what’s happening here? The sounds alone are sending my body into overdrive, sharpening my senses, feeding the hunger in me.

My mind is scattered. I need to finish the job, and I need to do it before the end of the night so I can slip out unnoticed. And yet my body’s already starting to betray me.

The next turn I make leads to an abrupt halt.

A man is standing at the end of the path, right under an archway. His black clothes melt into the darkness, and if it weren’t for the mask covering his face, I wouldn’t have seen him.

It’s like Reaper’s mask, but this one seems more like a balaclava.

He’s one of them. One of Reaper’s friends.

And he’s coming straight at me.

“Fuck.”

Pulse pounding, I spin around and run in the opposite direction, back where I came from.

Wind whispers between the hedges like a sinful promise, the cold, damp air clinging to my exposed skin.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins, but I’m not afraid. Not really. I’m exhilarated, even though I can’t let them catch me. I never asked for this distraction. But while my mind screams at me to run like hell, I can’t ignore the flutter in my stomach or the liquid heat between my legs. And I hate myself for it. But I hate Reaper even more for knowing how to push my buttons and challenge my boundaries.

The sound of a snapping branch around the next corner makes me stop short.

I’ve barely even caught my breath, let alone decided what to do next, when another man appears in front of me, also wearing a balaclava resembling Reaper’s skull mask.

When I turn around, strong arms grab me from behind, pulling me toward a hard body.

It’s not him. Not Reaper.

“I’ve brought some more friends with me tonight. Friends who like to hunt.”

Heat coils deep in my core, in desperate need of release, even if I fight it. Fight them.

I gulp back air as my second attacker towers over me. My heart explodes inside my chest when his gloved hands cup my waist in a determined grip.

Oh God . . . Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?

Moans erupt nearby. A woman’s whimpers. The deep growl of a man pounding into her.

I can’t see them, but the sounds they’re making are more than enough to harden my nipples. That and the two masked strangers, both closing in on me now—one in front, one behind me.

Reaper’s nowhere to be seen, but I’m sure he isn’t far. Not since he’s orchestrated all this. He’ll want to watch, just like last time.

I bite back a moan when fingers pull down my zipper, inch after inch, over my exposed skin. Then they push the material aside, exposing my bare breasts.

A hot mouth lands on my neck, kissing and sucking, another on my cleavage.

I should try to get free and run away, or at least use the safe word to make them stop. Instead I let my eyes fall shut, cursing myself for enjoying the feel of the stranger’s gloved hands, their lips and tongues on my heated skin.

The pounding gets louder and harder. Whoever is fucking just around the corner is close to climaxing, and they don’t care if anyone can see or hear them. Maybe they’re enjoying it.