Foxglove

“Come on, ,”

Susan whines, and I roll my eyes, letting her pull me along towards the fright night experience she booked tickets for—without telling me, the bitch. She knows I hate scary movies. In fact, we often joke that I’m like a house mouse, preferring to stay at home snuggled up with a good book under some comfy blankets.

A shiver cascades down my spine, the chilly, fall night breeze finding its way across my legs, clad in my new, pink My Little Pony tights and my short, pleated gingham skirt, silver glitter chucks on my feet. A pink sweatshirt is keeping me warm, one with a print of a ghost and a girl on her knees in front of him, his sheet lifted like she’s giving him a blowie. I cackled so hard when I saw it and knew that it had to be mine. I tied my light pink hair into two high bunches—yes, I have a thing for anime fashion.

My heart beats faster the closer we get to the entrance of the abandoned theme park, which is apparently where they’re holding Fright Night this year. We’re waiting in a queue to enter, the sound of excited chatter and spooky music filling the night air and adding to the tingles racing down my spine.

Finally, it’s our turn, and I catch my breath at the half-naked man checking tickets. He’s wearing a terrifying clown mask, the grinning maw making my nerve endings spark. Fake blood drips down his bare, tattooed torso, pooling in the dips and furrows of his chiseled abs, and my lips part as something other than terror slides down my skin, making my core clench.

He takes Susan’s ticket first, ushering her through, and then his bright green eyes lock onto mine as I hand him my slip of paper.

“Well, they’re just gonna eat you up in there,”

he purrs, his voice husky and deep, my breath stilling inside my chest.

“Pardon?”

I whisper, freezing when he leans closer, both of us gripping my ticket. I’m assaulted with his scent of smoke and candy, which somehow works and reminds me of eating toffee apples by the bonfire as a kid.

“I hope you can run fast, Little Doe. I do so love the chase.”

My eyelids flutter at his dark, depraved words, and I’m sure I must have misheard. They can’t really chase us, can they? “See you later, Little Doe.”

A breath leaves my chest as he guides me through the entrance, his hand burning on my lower back even through my sweatshirt.

“Come on!”

Susan yells, her excited voice breaking the spell the clown wove over me. As I step towards her outstretched hand, I’m sure I hear something that sounds like “The doe has been spotted…”

behind me, but then Susan is pulling me away and onto a side street.

“Let’s go this way, away from the crowds,”

she gleefully suggests, dragging me alongside her.

The road is covered in a thick fog, from smoke machines by the perfumed smell, and terrified screams followed by giggles come every few seconds. My heart beats wildly inside my chest, my eyes wide as I look around me, trying to predict where the danger is. It’s not real. This being a fright night, I know that I’m safe, but part of me isn’t convinced and is sure there are dark things about to steal me away.

“Run, Little Doe.”

I twist at the dark whisper behind me, but there’s no one there.

“What’s up?”

Susan asks, looking around, her eyes wide with excitement, making them shine. I’m sure there’s just terror in mine.

“N–nothing,”

I murmur, shaking my head and walking along with her, our arms interlinked. The hair lifts on the back of my neck as “RUNRUNRUN”

by Dutch Melrose blasts from the speakers, and my eyes dart all around, trying to expect what’s going to happen next.

Susan screams and is ripped from me, my breath rasping in and out of my lungs as I wildly look around.

“S–Susan?”

I call out, my voice barely above a broken whisper, I’m that scared. My hands shake, and I come to an abrupt halt as a dark figure emerges from the smoke in front of me.

It’s a man, just as muscular as the clown at the door, his black shirt open and showcasing a mouthwatering torso of ripped muscles and dark ink all covered in fake blood. At least, I’m hoping it’s fake. Instead of a clown mask, this one is a half-devil mask, complete with curling horns. It leaves his plush lips and chin exposed, his ebony hair mussed and falling over the top of the mask, and I’m frozen to the spot as he strolls towards me.

“You really are quite a find,”

he muses, his voice like the whisper of whiskey as it burns a path down your throat. He stops in front of me, and like a child, I refuse to look up, my mind telling me that if I don’t, the monster in front of me isn’t real. That he can’t get me. “Look at me, Little Doe.”

As if I have no control of my own fucking body, my eyes drag up his chest, spotting a nipple bar through his right nipple before I look up the strong column of his throat. My gaze then glides over his firm chin, pausing on his lips which are pulled up in a smirk that has no right to be as sexy as it is. I keep going, even though my brain screams at me to run and find Susan and then leave. My body completely fucking ignores me, my eyes tracing his aquiline nose before finally making eye contact.

I’m rendered speechless, unable to utter a single fucking thing as I’m captured in bright blue eyes, the color of a summer sky. My lips part as I continue to hold his stare, and when I take my next breath, the wonderful scent of cinnamon and gingerbread fresh out of the oven fills my nostrils.

“Nothing to say, Little Doe?”

he asks, amusement lacing his tone and doing something terrible to my panties.

“W–where’s Susan?”

I stammer, swallowing past the lump of fear in my throat.

“She’s being taken care of, as you will be,”

he replies as his hand reaches out, his knuckles tracing down my cheek, tingles racing from his touch and making my nipples peak and harden. What does it say about me that I don’t even fucking flinch?

“What does that mean?”

I question, his thumb tracing my lower lip and tugging it down slightly. His nostrils flare when my tongue darts out to taste the digit—again with the lack of listening from my body.

“Do you have a safe word?”

he enquires, his voice lower and huskier than before, causing my heart to damn near stop. A safe word? He can’t mean…“Well?”

“Pumpkin,”

I reply automatically, my body warming when that earns me a smile from those biteable lips.

“Good girl.”

I melt when those words pass his lips, a small, involuntary moan slipping past mine, and by the way his smile becomes devilish, I just told him all about what I suspect is my praise kink. “If you want to stop, just use that word and we’ll all back off.”

“All?”

The question comes out like a squeak as his warm palm cups my cheek.

“We’ve been waiting for a beautiful doe like you for a long while, ,”

he tells me softly, his thumb caressing my skin in a way that has me nuzzling into his touch. How did he know my name?

I don’t know what to say to that, how to express all the emotions that are swirling around inside me. I’m terrified because this is so beyond my comfort zone it’s unreal. But there’s excitement and a longing to explore things I’ve only read about in my dark romance books yet never had the chance to experience in real life.

“The others are waiting, little one. I’ll give you a head start. So you get to the count of five, okay?”

He waits for my mind to catch up, his voice a soft touch that makes me want to stay here with him.

“Okay…”

I pause, unable to stop the way my face rubs into his hot palm. “What’s your name?”

He gives me that beautiful smile again, the one that sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“Jinx, but you call me Master.”

My eyes widen just as heat floods my core. “Try it.”

“Yes, Master,”

spills from my lips before my brain has even engaged, my cheeks flushing pink. Did I just do that?

“You’re going to be so good for us, Little Doe. Now, run along.”

With a last squeeze, he lowers his hand from my cheek, his fingertips brushing my skin. “Five.”