Page 9 of Misery Manor

“No, no, please…”

Footsteps come from somewhere behind me, but I don’t bother turning to look. I start banging on the door with both fists and scream at the top of my lungs.

“No one can hear your cries, little one,” a dark, deep, rumbling voice says from just feet behind me.

I freeze, not daring to move a muscle.

“And if you want to find your friends, you’ll have to come with me.”

I swallow down the bile that’s begun to rise in the back of my throat. He doesn’t sound like Devil Man. Where his voice was quiet and soft, this man sounds like danger wrapped in barbed wire and rusty nails.

“Turn around,” he says quietly. He sounds like he’s right behind me.

Oh. Fuck.

I’m clearly not going to get the door open, and I can’t just stand here all night like an idiot, so I turn around slowly, body shaking violently, until I'm face to chest with a man wearing a white mask.

Not just any white mask, the white mask that’s been watching me since I walked in here. The scythe-wielding maniac from the videos I saw online.

Of course, I knew the mask was attached to a body, I just didn’t expect the body to be that of a literal giant; he’s got to be nearly seven feet tall. The long, floor-length black cloak covers his entire body, so I can’t make out anything distinguishable about him other than his muscular build. The mask has a long, jagged crack starting from his hairline on the right side of his head that cuts through the middle of his face to the bottom left side of his chin.

His eyes, however, are just barely visible through the mask. They’re pale gray like the moon.

They’re beautiful, and for a moment I'm entranced by them.

But when I smell blood, and I remember the dire situation I'm in, I’m quickly brought back to reality. Moonlight reflects off the curve of his scythe’s silver blade murderously.

He looks like an executioner ready to dole out punishment.

“What have you done to my friends?” I whisper. I can hear my blood rushing in my ears. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that I’m sure it’ll jump right out at any moment.

“Are they really your friends, little one?” he asks darkly, walking towards me until I’m backed against the door. He reaches a black gloved hand out from beneath his cloak and gently strokes my cheek, making me both shiver and wince as he touches the bruise there.

“It doesn’t seem like they care for you very much. Those two in the hall were willing to leave you all alone in their haste to find safety.”

So, they did leave me. I grit my teeth and blink away the tears that threaten to fall. “My relationship with them is none of your business.”

“And the one fawning over the blonde with the fake tits?” he goes on like he didn’t hear me. “Would I be correct in assuming that’s your boyfriend? Jamal, I think his name is.”

I swallow and whisper, “Husband, actually.”

His head cocks in a predatory manner as his eyes travel over my face and land somewhere to the right.

“I assume he’s responsible for your bruised face?” he asks rhetorically.

Without giving me a chance to answer, White Mask leans down and runs the tip of his nose along the column of my neck, inhaling deeply. A deep, sensuous purr rumbles from deep in his chest. I want to push him away, but I’m so starved for intimacy that my toes curl in my boots and warmth spreads through my body.

“Tell me, little one: do you taste as good as you smell?”

I whimper pitifully as I try to suppress a moan.

Slightly pulling away, he raises his head until his face is level with mine, eyes searching for something as he gazes deeply into mine. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath from his closeness, and just when I think I’ll pass out, he steps back, and I feel like I can finally breathe again.

“They don’t deserve you, Aliyah.”

I’m so taken aback by what he’s just said: the fact that he knows my name, and that he’s able to make that kind of judgement when we’ve barely been here thirty minutes.

But a small voice in the back of my mind knows what he says is true, and I'm too blind—or stupid—to accept it.