Page 36 of Eden's Deliverance

We somehow manage to survive the stampede of half-naked people as we escape down the emergency exit stairwell, the lot of us gathering outside the building—aimless and horny as shit. Staff members walk around to hand out our phones and bags, and for a brief moment, I consider giving The Prince my phone number.

A group of people to our left are talking about relocating to a nearby club, insisting that nobody has to take off their mask because it’s still Halloween. It’s a tempting offer, but the chilly night air is slowly killing my libido. Now, I want nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed, defeated and alone.

Penelope emerges from the crowd and rushes over to me, hand-in-hand with her own partner for the night. She begs for me to stay out with her, trying to convince me to hit up one of the campus parties instead, but I politely decline and tell her I’ll just see her at home.

We’re all sitting together on the curb, waiting for Ubers to take us in separate directions, and I’m blabbing to The Prince before I even stop to think about what I’m saying.

“I’m really sorry about that.” When his head tilts in confusion, I continue before he can say anything. “I was really looking forward to having a good night with you, and I’m just pissed that it had to end so early because of some freak incident.”

He chuckles lightheartedly, clearly not as distraught as I am. “I still had a good time.” I almost miss the grin on his face when he leans in close to my ear. “I’ll just have to savor the taste of you until next time,” he whispers.

Now I regret the Uber, because that springs my libido right back to life.

He grips my chin, turning me to face him, then his lips are on me without warning. I can taste myself on his tongue when he deepens the kiss, and as much as I appreciate the hot filth of the moment, I’m just thankful to have something other than sour beer on his breath.

My phone vibrates at the exact time a car horn jolts me into awareness, ripping me from the dream that is The Prince’s embrace. I toss him a sympathetic look, but he gives me a soft smile and a peck on the cheek before helping me to my feet and into the cab.

The entire ride home, the tingle of our kiss lingers on my lips, and I’m starting to rethink not bringing him home with me. The car drops me off in front of our duplex, and I’ve only just walked through the door when I hear the TV in my room—which is pretty fucking weird, because I’m sure it wasn’t on when we left the house.

‘Tis the spooky season, I guess.

I don’t bother turning on the bedroom light. Tossing my purse onto the bed, I sit and remove my boots before using the glow of the TV to head straight out to the balcony for a midnight cigarette.

In the light of the moon, I look down and notice various red splotches scattered across the skin of my chest and neck. I’m not normally into hickeys, but I don’t hate the sight as much as I thought I would.

Outside the bedroom, they draw judgmental attention that isn’t worth the hassle or bouts of embarrassment. Inside the bedroom, I love the idea of beingmarked up. I might even like doing the marking myself. It feeds into our natural human instinct to claim and to own, and I never said I was better than a man.

I only picked up smoking a few years ago, and I know it’s an unfortunate habit to have, but fuck…nothing beats it—not that I’ve found anyhow. There’s something to the ritual of it that I can’t shake, and I’ve tried. It doesn’t even feel like an addiction to the nicotine; it’s more that the whole process is a sort of therapy for me and my anxiety.

It's theschlickof the lighter and the first pull that ignites the tobacco and paper, creating a beautiful orange ember. It’s the three pulls after the first one, watching the cherry expand as the stick burns away slowly. It’s the steady inhalation, in case I ever have trouble regulating my breathing. It’s the exhalation of the smoke, like a tangible representation of my stress being ejected from my body. It’s the fact that I know it takes me exactly ten minutes to smoke a full cigarette, so if I’m ever in need of liminal grounding, I have a personal timer to keep myself in check.

A creak comes from what I can only assume is the floorboards of my bedroom. I glance quickly over my shoulder, but the room is still dark aside from the dim light of the TV. Stupidly, I ignore it and turn back to look out into the woods behind our house.

Another creak. Then another.

“Little Red Riding Hood is in trouble.” The dark, ominous voice makes me jump enough that I drop my cigarette when I swing to look towards the doorway. Two figures emerge from the back of my room, silhouetted against the TV behind them.

I don’t move. They don’t move.

It’s too late, and I’m too tired to deal with their bullshit right now. Putting aside the fact that they’re in my fucking house and must have followed me home from Eden, I’m more concerned that they’re continuing to ruin my night.

I just wanted a quick cigarette before I crawled into my nice, warm bed. But here I am, standing on my balcony while two maniacs loom invasively in my bedroom—blocking my only means of escape.

I get an idea, but it’s not a safe or smart one by any means.

There’s a trellis next to my balcony that runs the entire length of the house; I could climb down it, but then I’d have nowhere to go. I’m shoeless, there’s alcohol in my system, and my phone is inside. I can’t drive anywhere. I can’t call the police. Penelope isn’t home.

I’m completely alone and vulnerable here with them, but I have no other option except to stall them. “And what, are you The Big Bad Wolves?” I’m mocking them. That’s probably not smart either, but I’m still riding a buzz and my reasoning skills are clearly a bit altered.

“No.” I recognize the voice as Broody’s, so deep and harrowing that it rattles my bones to hear him talk.

“We’re worse,” Casanova drawls, stepping through the doorway enough that the shadow slides off his form, revealing his costume for the night.

He’s wearing a pitch-black robe with a long hood that covers half his face. He’s not wearing a jeweled mask from Eden, but he is indeed wearing a mask.

A red Anonymous mask with devil horns.

The same mask from my nightmares.

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