Page 138 of Pucking Obsessed

Rebel House has been transformed.

It’s grand with brick walls, skylights that reveal the moon and stars in the velvet of the black sky above, and leather couches. Glass windows along the back reveal the vista over the lake.

Yet the inside of Rebel House has been changed into the bleak landscape fromThe Nightmare Before Christmas.

The only light is through the skylights and the crimson candles, which flicker around the room. A vast, artificial skeletal tree spreads its branches over the entire room.

Pumpkins hang from the tree’s branches like peaches.

Giant, silk bats fly across the sky of the ceiling, avoiding the lacy cobwebs.

I’m standing in the quietest spot by the back wall, which is lit up with the wordBOO.

The room is packed with board members and important shareholders. I don’t know why I imagined tonight would be filled with togas and fake blood like my college parties were. Instead, this is a decadent display of wealth with custom and vintage costumes: Harlequins that glitter with gems or extravagant Edward Scissorhands.

“The zombies who are showing off their ripped muscles, as if it’s part of the artful decaying costume design and not a sad attempt for scoring women tonight,” D’Angelo drawls, “are the rest of the team.”

I flush. “They do have nice…”

“Pet,” D’Angelo says, warningly.

“Masks,” I finish lamely.

“Good save, thrall.”

I flush deeper.

I can’t help running my hand down my silk, crimson dress. I shiver at the sensation. It brushes against my thigh.

D’Angelo whispered, moments before I stepped out of the front door of Captain’s Hall, totake off my panties and leave them behind.

I did without question.

It felt forbidden.

Also, it was incredible to play the game of obeying my Vampire King, whose collar I was wearing, even if only for one night.

The rule in the Guide was that if the players won a game, then they earned a secret fantasy.

They had more than earned us acting this one out.

Instinctively, I raise my hand to touch the ribbon, which is looped around my neck.

D’Angelo catches the movement. His eyes darken.

This means more to him than he’s admitting. It will also help him to cope with this evening. He hates horror movies, is triggered by visiting parental figures, and has been traumatized at a Halloween event.

Yet he’s not only keeping to the Guide’s rule but also fulfilling his duty by attending this event.

Dad should value D’Angelo more than he does.

When Shay and I knelt for D’Angelo earlier, and D’Angelo firmly ritualistically tied the ribbon around our necks as the last part of our costumes in a solemn silence, he couldn’t hide the shake in his hand.

Shay brushes his knuckles against mine. “You look beautiful, love.”

I smile. “Not as good as you do in that collar.”

Shay ducks his head, but I don’t miss his pleased smile.

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