Page 58 of Deadmen's Captive

“Sebastian Blake, age 24, currently studying a PHD in International Business at Blackvellyn. Son of Edward Blake, billionaire business mogul,” said Kate. “There’s plenty about the business side, including how he’s being groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps, and then the normal social stuff… apparently he rarely takes the same girl to different events. likes to play the field…”

I looked at the picture of Bast at a recent film premiere in London, his arm around a striking brunette in a gold dress. She definitely looked more his type, tall, willowy, polished, and I wondered again why he’d picked me for the Persephone role when lots of other girls had applied, probably who looked a lot more like his date than me. Not for the first time did I seriously reconsider what I’d agreed to. I should call him and call it off, but even as I considered it, the memory of Bast in that bedroom with me, sitting at the vanity while he licked my pussy, had my body strongly against the idea of backing out. Ever since that night, I'd been unable to get the three of them out of my head, and some dark, wanton part of me I hadn’t even known existed, was less apprehensive and more impatient for the next trial I would have to face. I shoved the thought away and the excitement that sparked inside me at the thought of what Bast might have prepared for me.

“It’s not Tristan, cause why would he make a threat towards himself about himself taking me out for dinner,” I pointed out trying to distract myself. “So that leaves Nate. What can you find out about him?”

“Nathaniel Carver… he’s Lord Carver's son, I think…”

“Yes, I heard that somewhere.”

She nodded. “Yeah, really old money, that family. I think there’s been a Carver in the House of Lords for about four hundred years. But Nate’s Dad rebelled a bit, he joined the army and worked his way up. He’s a four star general… I mean, he’s retired now. Surprised Nate didn’t follow in daddy’s footsteps, seeing as he loved working out and beating people up.”

“What does Nate do?” I asked, suddenly curious.

“Hmm… oh, here. He’s 24 as well, and studying in Criminal Psychology with a focus on… ohh….”

“On what?”

Kate looked up at me. “On serial killers. Paige, what if he’s our guy?”

Fear flickered inside me, but I pushed it away. “It’s a pretty big leap from studying serial killers to actually stalking someone.”

“So you admit you have a stalker,” Kate said, raising her eyebrows.

“Fine, I have a stalker. But it’s just the guys. They followed me everywhere, Tristan told me. It's part of the act for the club. I just, I think they’re taking it too far with this.”

“You think it’s part of the club stuff?” Kate asked, closing the laptop down.

I nodded. “They’re pretty weird and freaky about all the club traditions. It does creep me out a bit, but Tristan assured me there’s nothing that would hurt me at all.”

“Yeah, because the hot guy with the charming smile is totally trustworthy,” said Kate.

“He feels genuine,” I argued.

“You like him, you fancy him…” Kate sang at me. “You want to kiss him, you want to fuck him…”

“Shut up, Kate,” I laughed, going bright red as I threw my pillow at her.

“Ohh, Tristan…” she warbled, grabbing my pillow and pretending to make out with it.

“You’re even crazier than they are,” I grinned. “I’ll leave you alone with my pillow. I’m going to have a shower, I’ve got that thing at the club tonight.”

“Will you be back?”

“I don’t know. There's rooms in the club house. Nice ones, with hot showers that actually have water pressure.”

“Oh, you know how to talk dirty Paige. Definitely stay there, but shoot me a text so I know they haven’t murdered you.”

“Will do.” I reached down and picked up the box with the letter and the doll inside, dropping it on top of the rubbish bin as I headed for the bathroom.

“And make sure you tell them off about the freaky doll,'' Kate called as I closed the bathroom door behind me.

Oh, I was planning to. Even knowing it was probably from one of them, the thing had really freaked me out. I wasn’t sure, but even with Tristan walking me home each night, I still got this weird feeling I was being watched, and the letters hadn’t stopped either. In fact, they’d increased in frequency - I’d had four already this week, not counting the one in the box. Most were complimentary, praising my hair or eyes or clothing choice, each one designed to let me know that this person was watching me, following me around campus, and I was really starting to hate it. Kate was right, I decided, as I turned on the shower. Tonight I was letting them know that enough was enough, and if they didn’t pack it in with the weird scare tactics, I was walking.

I had just got under the water, when the door opened a little.

“Can I come in a sec?”

“Sure,” I said, reaching for the shampoo. Kate crossed the tiny room, putting the lid down and sitting on the toilet with her laptop perched on her knees.

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