Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

W hen I return to my room there’s a pile of wet clothes on the bathroom floor, and the shower is running, steam billowing across the ceiling. I shut off the faucet, taking in the chaos. The entire contents of my suitcase are soaked, every piece of clothing drenched and tangled in a heap, topped with my red thong rolled into a ball like a cherry on top. It was probably Lyle, part of the haunting good time we’re supposed to be having. It could have been Agatha too, sneaking up here while we were dutifully carving pumpkins downstairs, listening to the strange creaking noises this old place makes.

I notice something else—a set of wet footprints, small and delicate, leading away from the pile. They trail across the dark marble floor into the bedroom, crossing the carpet and stopping at the open closet. The empty, yawning darkness of it makes my scalp prickle.

Maybe it wasn’t Lyle or Agatha. Maybe it was something else. How else would I know about Marissa’s clothes? Was it me—high as hell—or something else?

I think it might be something else. Come on, Tori, it’s all in good fun, none of this is real .

While elbow-deep in pumpkin innards, I got told I’ve always had an overactive imagination after I mentioned some of the strange things happening here. Maybe they’re right. Maybe this is all in my head—just like my so-called relationship with Jonathan. It’s hard to trust yourself when everyone is always telling you you’re wrong.

I pull out my phone from my back pocket and take a few pictures. By the time I bring someone back here to see this, it’ll be gone. Wiped clean.

From somewhere in the hallway comes a hollow clunk, like a door slamming shut, followed by the sound of footsteps—heavy, running, and then fists pounding on walls. I try to ignore it.

I wash my hands and arms in the sink, scraping off the stringy pumpkin fibers and seeds caked on my skin. As I rinse, the air inside the bathroom shifts, and a cold, heavy weight settles over me. It’s dense, pressing. I feel it first on my shoulders, a subtle prickling sensation that crawls across my skin like icy fingers, then the sharp bite of it on my neck, the skittering of it down along my spine.

The lights flicker. Buzz.

I turn off the faucet, let my hand drip at my sides. Slowly, I lift my gaze to the mirror, still foggy from the shower. Words are etched in the condensation. Hot sparks of adrenaline shoot across my chest, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

" Help me ."

Did someone write something before I came in here? Or is someone in here with me now? Or is it something else? The letters are crude, childlike, and within them, a small reflection takes shape—a face, eyes staring back at me.

Long, beautiful flowing hair. Pale white skin. Liliana.

She’s standing right behind me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing down a scream. I’m scaring myself, imagining things that aren’t here. I’ve been drinking, I remind myself. Always drinking.

I take a deep breath, pretending nothing is wrong, trying to convince myself there’s no reason to panic—that nothing is here, tilting my world on its axis. I wipe my hands on a towel, ignoring the chill that’s seeping into my back, burrowing deep into my vertebrae, rooting itself in like an infection.

I force myself to turn around, bracing for whatever I might see. But there’s nothing. The space behind me is empty. My skin prickles with cold sweat. I glance back at the mirror and watch as the words slowly fade away.

The bathroom door creaks open slightly, and a whisper of warm air brushes past me. If there was anything here, it’s gone now.

Trembling, I make my way to the minibar in the sitting area. I grab a bottle of whiskey, then a vodka. The bar is fully stocked, even though I remember emptying it before.If the ghosts are stocking the alcohol, maybe they aren’t so bad. I grab another mini whiskey and walk over to the window. I have to think about other things. This place is getting to me.

A thick fog blankets the garden. It’s dark, but I catch a glimpse of Marissa and Jonathan out on the terrace. She’s sitting on a stone bench, a bottle of water in her hand, while he stands behind her, rubbing her shoulders. I guess they’ve made up. I guess they’re no longer fighting.

It shouldn’t make me angry, but it does.

I look at the clock by the bed; it’s 11:30. We’re all supposed to meet downstairs in fifteen minutes. I open another mini bottle and swig it back without reading the label. I don’t care what it is, I just need to get out of my head, float above it for a while. I’m feeling edgy, can’t sit still.

Hayes . Sex with Hayes will help. It’ll stop my spiraling thoughts. Sex is like a drug for me—it sweeps me away, makes me feel alive in my skin.

I rush to his room and knock on the door. He opens it instantly, freshly showered, hair damp, wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans. “I thought you went to your room to change,” he says, eyeing me curiously.

“I did,” I say, stepping inside his room. “But all my clothes are soaking wet.”

“What? Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I say, pulling my shirt and bra over my head, letting my breasts bounce free. My heart flutters wildly in my chest, like a small frantic animal. Too many thoughts about ghosts, I need to feel alive.

“I no longer have anything intelligent to say.” He chuckles, his eyes darkening with desire.

I step closer, watching the way his gaze sweeps across my shoulders and collarbone, dropping down and lingering on my bare breasts. His eyes seem full of hunger, need. It makes my nipples tighten and a small ache of pleasure dampens between my thighs. I unbuckle my jeans, slide them down my legs, and my thong follows. “We have fifteen minutes before Tess?—"

He doesn’t let me finish. His lips crash into mine, urgent and demanding.Yes, yes, yes. This is what I need. I feel my heart beating in my chest, a little too fast, a little too wild. His hands, rough and warm, wrap around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His mouth is hungry, devouring. His eager tongue strokes over mine relentlessly, and he moans, oh he moans —as if he’s never tasted anything as delicious as me.

He spins us around, pressing my bottom against the edge of a dresser. He releases my lips and leans down, pressing his hot mouth to my throat and kissing down the path between my breasts. He traces his lips over my right nipple, flicking his tongue against the sensitive point. He laps and sucks, nipping it between his teeth. I arch back, leaning on the dresser, pressing my hips forward. I need more. I whisper the words. He trails his lips down, over my stomach, his hot, wet tongue setting fires across my skin.

His hands reach up, cupping my breasts, soft feathery touches then pinching my nipples tight. My nerve endings scream for more; my body hums with need. “Hayes, please, I need more.”

“Ass up on the dresser, open your legs wide,” he breathes against my lower belly. “Show me that gorgeous pussy.”

I lift up onto the dresser and spread my legs. Eager, ready, desperate for him.

He stands, unbuttons his jeans. His eyes, full of need, are locked onto my core. “Touch yourself.” He unzips his jeans and they drop, crumpling around his ankles. “I want to watch you play with that beautiful pussy for me.” He cups his cock through his briefs.

I lift my hand to my mouth, suck on one finger, then two.

His eyes darken.

I trail my wet fingers down, over my breasts and belly, circle once, twice over my clit then dip them inside my warmth.

“All the way in, baby. Deeper,” he rasps.

He slides his briefs off, fists his cock, rubbing his thumb slowly over the head.

“Is this what you want to watch me do?” I ask, moving my fingers in and out, rubbing them over my clit, then dipping them back inside me.

“Fuck, yes. You look so good doing that.” He moves closer to me, his cock no more than an inch away from me, his hand stroking it from root to tip, real slow. “That’s it, keep going. Good girl.”

His eyes stay fixed on my movements, making that warm tingly feeling spread out from my clit until my whole body is trembling with need.

He strokes his cock faster.

“I want those fingers in deep. Deeper,” he murmurs, inching closer. “Keep going.” He lines the head of his dick up with me, rubs it over my fingers, my wetness. Then he presses in. “Keep going with your fingers, Tori. I want to feel your fingers inside with me.”

I clench tight around his cock and my fingers, stretching as he slowly slides in deeper. “Oh, my God, Hayes.”

“Feel good? You like double penetration?”

“More,” I moan as pleasure coils from the fullness.

“I can’t wait to get you back to my place. Use all my toys on you,” he grunts on a hard thrust.

“Toys?” I pant.

His lips cover mine in a kiss as he pumps his cock into me. “Hmm,” he groans into my mouth then stops dead. He slowly slips out of me and presses his forehead to mine, breathing heavily.

“No, no, no. Why did you stop?” I ask, pulling him closer.

He chuckles into my ear, his hot breath fanning over my neck. “You don’t hear Tessa pounding on the door?”

I look up and lock eyes with him, confused. Then I hear it, the heavy thudding on the door. “You better hurry up, we’re all downstairs waiting!” Tessa calls out.

With a sigh, Hayes leans back, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Let’s just stay here,” I say. I want him back inside me right now. I don’t care who’s waiting downstairs.

“No! You’re coming, let’s go!” Tessa yells from the other side of the door. “Now! We’re already late.”

“I’m going to kill her,” I whisper.

He brushes a stray hair from my face and captures my lips with a kiss. “Let’s get through this fast so I can get back inside you.”

I don’t move—I don’t want to do anything but stay here with Hayes.

“Come on, gorgeous. It’ll only be an hour or two, then the rest of the night is all ours. I promise.”

I reluctantly nod. I’m breathless and aching for more. I almost want to cry.

I watch him dress quickly, my stomach twisting into tight little knots. Every fiber of my being screams in resistance, but my voice is silent, trapped somewhere in my throat. My hands tremble, and I clench my fists to keep them steady. I came to Hayes’s room to get out of my head, to feel good, and now I’m frustrated and even more angsty.

“Hey,” he says, cupping my face in his hands. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…I’m just in a…Hayes haze,” I say, forcing a smile.

He laughs and kisses my forehead. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” He swoops down and picks up my pants and hands them to me. “I’m sorry, Tori. I honestly didn’t think I could stay hard with Tessa’s voice screaming at us.” He looks at me for a bit, eyes fixed on my breasts as I move. “Maybe we can sneak out of the escape room, and you can ride me on the Ferris wheel.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I say, mustering another smile. I dress quickly, trying to shake the anxious feeling creeping back over my skin.“How late are we?” I pat my back pockets down and realize I don’t have my phone. “Damn it, I left my phone in my room, didn’t I?”

Hayes glances at me. “I don’t know, sorry, all I saw were tits when you came in.”

He opens the door, and Tessa is pacing the hallway, her fingers at her lips, biting at her nails. When she sees us, her tense posture softens slightly.

I hold up my hands. “Sorry,” I say, feeling a pang of sharp guilt. “I just have to run and grab my phone and we can go. How late are we?”

“It’s 11:58,” she says, her voice wavering.

I brush past her, confused; that’s not late at all. “Okay,” I sigh, “give me two seconds and I’ll be right out.” I use the keycard to unlock my room door. I shouldn’t even have my own room, should I? I should just stay with Hayes. I’ll talk with him about that while we walk to the park. Now, where did I leave my phone?

Right on the counter in the bathroom next to all my wet clothes and the?—

But that’s not where my phone is right now. No, instead, it’s sitting on top of a neatly folded stack of all my clothes. Every piece is perfectly arranged, meticulously folded—and bone-dry.