Page 21 of Carnival Shadows

“You went through my private messages,” I remind her, stepping closer. “Broke into my trailer and snooped through my computer.” I tap her chin. “That’s bold for someone who claims to be just a podcaster doing research.”

Her nostrils flare. “I was investigating.”

“Is that what you call stalking these days?” I circle her, enjoying how she tracks my movement. “Tell me, Eden, did you like what you read in those messages? Did it keep you up at night imagining it?”

A flush creeps up her neck, but she lifts her chin defiantly. “I was being thorough.”

“Thoroughly obsessed,” I correct her. The messages sit forgotten in my chat box, meaningless compared to the living, breathing manifestation of desire standing before me. Eden’s jealousy only proves how deep her fixation runs.

I pick up her journal from the metal table. Its leather is worn and filled with her obsessive thoughts. Each page documents her descent into fixation with meticulous detail. My fingers trace over her hurried writing, feeling the indentations where she pressed too hard in excitement.

“You know what fascinates me most about this?” I hold the journal, watching her eyes track it like a lifeline. “How you started so clinical, analyzing carnival patterns and disappearances. But then—” I flip through the pages, “—it becomes all about me. Every entry, every observation, every dark little fantasy.”

The way she shrinks into the chair, trying to distance herself from her written confessions, makes my blood sing. Such delicious shame mixed with that undeniable hunger in her eyes.

“Tell me, Eden, do you document all your podcast interviewees so thoroughly?” I step closer. “Or am I special?”

Her silence speaks volumes. I can almost hear her heart racing, seeing the internal war between her professional facade and her ravenous need to continue her chosen path. Perfect.

“You’ve spent weeks studying me, learning my patterns.” I tap the journal against my palm. “Now it’s my turn. I will take you apart piece by piece until I understand every dark corner of your mind.”

The shiver that runs through her body isn’t from fear—no, this is wanton anticipation. She’s been waiting for this moment, even if she won’t admit it. All those hours watching from theshadows, collecting pieces of my life, fantasizing about being caught.

I lean in close, breathing in her scent. “I’m going to break down every wall you’ve built, little stalker. Strip away every pretense until there’s nothing left but your obsession.” My fingers grip the journal tighter. “And when I’m done, you’ll never even think about fixating on anyone else.”

13

EDEN

“You’re going to read to me now.” Remy breaks the silence, his voice low and commanding. “Loud and clear. No stuttering or skipping words.”

My breath catches in my throat as he picks up my journal—the one where I unleash my deepest, most perverse desires. I can only imagine the filth he’s about to force me to read. Remy’s eyes skim the pages, no doubt soaking in my explicit fantasies, each one making his mouth twitch with growing amusement.

He hands me the journal, his finger marking the page. “Read this part. Every word. Don’t you dare censor yourself for my sake.”

My heart pounds as I take the journal from him, my eyes dropping to the passage he wants to hear. This is one of my wildest fantasies. I never thought I’d be forced to share it with anyone.

I begin to read, my voice unsure at first but gaining strength as I become lost in the words.

“He was wearing a mask which hid his face but I knew it was Remy. I could see his eyes through the holes as they fixed on me. He had me tied to the bed, spread-eagle with my thighs tied to my calves and my wrists tied to the headboard, completely vulnerable.”

My breath quickens as I recall the scenario I concocted in my mind.

“I struggled against the restraints, but Remy just laughed, the sound low and menacing. He moved closer, his body towering over me. I could smell his cologne.”

I pause, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment, but Remy’s intense gaze urges me on.

“He didn’t say a word. He just looked at me, this dangerous glint in his eyes. I knew what he wanted. I begged him to stop, but deep down, I pleaded for him to give me what I needed.”

I swallow hard, my body reacting to the fantasy.

“Remy didn’t touch me at first. He just looked at me, this possession in his eyes. Then, his hand connected with my ass hard. I cried out, andhe slapped me again and again, leaving my skin stinging and red.”

I take a shaky breath.

“Remy stood back, just watching the marks he’d made on my body. Then, he touched me, his fingers breaching my asshole without warning. I cried out, but he kept pushing inside me, forcing me to take it.

“I wanted to resist, but my body betrayed me. My back arched of its own accord, pushing against his hand, craving more. So, he gave it to me. He shoved another finger inside me, then a third, easing me open, preparing me for what was to come.

---