Page 37 of Deadmen's Captive

"The Deadmen’s Club. They come every year," he said, voice flat as he watched them move through the crowd. “A society of the most elite students at Blackvellyn. They’re dangerous, Paige. Don’t go mixing with them. You’d be nothing more than prey to them.”

The music rose again, that strange haunting melody from before, and I watched, entranced, as one reached for the hand of a girl dressed as Marie Antoinette. She giggled, twirling into his arms. A murmur of excitement rippled through the room as the Reapers began to choose partners from among the crowd. Their smooth, confident movements exuded something both dangerous and alluring. Another Reaper beckoned to a Cleopatra, her laughter ringing clear across the room. One by one, they wove through the crowd, their movements fluid and deliberate.

"They seem harmless," I commented, trying to ignore the tightness in David's grip.

"They aren’t," he snapped. “But don't worry, Paige. I’ll keep you safe.”

His arm tightened around my waist, yanking me closer. I stumbled against him, the scent of his cologne stifling.

"Easy," I gasped.

"Stay with me, Paige," he commanded, eyes scanning the sea of masked faces and swirling costumes.

The music throbbed through the grand hall, a heartbeat that pulsed beneath my skin. My gaze caught on a Reaper, his skull mask a stark contrast to the opulence around us. His head turned slightly, as if sensing my stare.

"David, you're hurting me." My voice was firm, edged with annoyance.

"Sorry," he muttered, but his grip remained unyielding as he turned me around to the music, his body blocking me from sight.

Suddenly, a shadow crossed between us. I looked up to see an imposing figure dressed in long hooded black robes and a skull mask. A Reaper.

"I believe this dance is mine," the Reaper said, his voice masked by the costume but unmistakably powerful.

"Excuse me?" David pulled away from me slightly, frowning at the new arrival.

The Reaper only tilted his head to one side, regarding David through the hollow eye sockets of his skull mask. His silence was intimidating.

David stiffened. "She's with me."

"Am I?" I challenged, emboldened by the stranger's presence. David's hold faltered, and I seized my chance, slipping from his grasp.

"Paige—" David's protest cut off as I placed my hand in the Reaper's.

In a swift movement, the Reaper pulled me into an embrace, his hands firm on my waist. I looked back at David, my heart pounding in my chest. But I couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through my veins with each touch of the Reaper's hands on my body. His grip was strong and sure, a stark contrast to David's stifling hold.

"Who are you?" I murmured into his ear, my voice barely audible over the intoxicating beat of the music. He didn't respond, only pulling me closer as we moved gracefully across the dance floor.

"Does it matter?" His voice rolled over me, low and smooth.

I should have been scared, my heart racing for all the wrong reasons. But I wasn't. The danger, the thrill—it excited me. His other hand found the small of my back, pressing me closer as we moved to the rhythm of the music. The rest of the room seemed to fade into soft focus as he began to guide me in a dance. I raised my other hand to his shoulder, feeling the muscular firmness beneath the robe. His movements were controlled, confident, as though he had done this a thousand times before. There was a predatory grace to him, a sense of danger that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me. David watched, stunned, as we began to sway to the rhythm of the haunting music. The crowd around us erupted into whispers, their gazes shifting between me and David.

"Let them watch," he murmured in my ear as our bodies aligned with the seductive tempo. His voice sent chills down my spine, its low timbre a dark promise. My pulse quickened with each solid step we took on the wide dance floor, the bone-white skull mask before me never wavering. The haunting melody filled the room, weaving itself through each couple and lacing them together in a euphonic web. I caught glimpses of the other guests, their faces hidden behind masks, a sea of anonymity. The music thrummed in my veins, an insistent beat that mirrored the quickening of my heart.

"Easy," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

I tried to match his steps, but the world tipped dangerously. My chest tightened, panic clawing its way up my throat. This wasn't the thrill I sought; it was too much, too fast. I needed air, space. But his hold was a vice, pushing out everything except the pressure of his body against mine.

"Stop," I gasped. "Please."

"The final dance," he purred in my ear, his voice sending shivers along the length of my spine. "Are you ready?" Before I could answer, he swept me off my feet, spinning me in a whirlwind of motion that left me dizzy and breathless. The room spun around me like a carousel, the faces of the onlookers distorting into a kaleidoscope of masks and colours.

Instead, his hand snaked around my waist, pulling me closer still. The dance was no longer ours. It belonged to the onlookers, to the Reapers now encircling us like spectres of judgement.

"Let go," I tried again, my voice barely a whisper.

“Never,” he growled in my ear. “I will never let you go.”

Suddenly, the music ended and the room plunged into a hush. The Reaper held me tight against him, our bodies still pressed together in an intimate embrace. Something about the silence of the room was more terrifying than the fast-paced dance. I felt a tremor run down my spine-- fear or excitement, I wasn't sure. He turned me slowly in his arms, and I saw clearly that the crowd had encircled us completely. The room was silent except for the pounding rhythm of my heart. The crowd had vanished into obscurity beneath the cloak of masks and silence, their eyes trained on us in anticipation. One hand tightened on my hip, pulling me back against him. I felt the unmistakable hardness of him through his robes and gasped. His other hand slid upwards, cupping my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple through the fabric. A bolt of desire shot through me, even as my mouth dropped open in shock. Around us, everyone stood silently, just watching. The room blurred at the edge of my vision as lust and fear mingled. His touch burned through the fabric of my costume, lighting a fire in my core.

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