Page 56 of Carnival Shadows

“I know what you need.” I tuck myself back into my jeans before adjusting her skirt. “First, you’re going to walk out of here with my cum running down your legs, knowing that everyone can see what I’ve done to you.”

I guide Eden toward the exit, my hand firm on her lower back. Her legs are unsteady with each step, and I can see the evidence of our encounter glistening on her thighs in the dim light. The walk of shame turns her on—I can tell by the way she presses closer to me, seeking protection even as her arousal builds again.

The exit door creaks open, spilling harsh carnival lights across Eden’s flushed face. Her hair is messed up, lipsticksmeared, and her skirt is crooked despite my attempts to straighten it. She looks thoroughly claimed.

Lars appears around the corner, nearly colliding with us. His eyes sweep over Eden’s disheveled state, taking in her glazed expression and unsteady stance.

“Damn, Remy.” He smirks, crossing his arms. “You sure know how to give the haunted house patrons a real show.”

Eden’s cheeks flush darker as she tries to smooth her hair, but it’s useless. Every inch of her screams “freshly fucked.”

“Shut up, Lars,” I warn, but in jest.

“Hey, at least you’re putting the attraction to good use.” He winks at Eden, who can barely meet his eyes. “Though maybe we should rename it the ‘Horny House’ now.”

I steer Eden toward my trailer, leaving Lars’s laughter behind us.

Fuck. She’s gotten so deep under my skin that I can feel her in my veins. Every breath she takes and every subtle movement resonates through me like a tuning fork struck against a bone. I didn’t plan for this visceral need that goes beyond mere possession.

I glance at her flushed face, seeing the marks I’ve left on her neck and how her lips are still swollen from our kisses. My fingerprints are all over her and yet it’s not enough. I want to crawl inside her mind, own every thought, every fantasy.

The worst part? She owns me right back. My little stalker has turned the tables, making me obsess over her as much as she does over me. Each whimper, each desperate plea, each time she submits, feeds something in me that I can’t control.

I’ve dealt with obsession before. I’ve handled people who thought they could get close to me. But Eden? She slipped past every defense, every wall, with those knowing eyes. She sees the monster in me and doesn’t flinch; she fucking welcomes it.

The realization hits me harder than any punch: I need her. Not just want, not just desire. It’s a need. Like breathing. Like blood in my veins. She’s become essential to my existence in a way that should terrify me but instead makes me want to tear apart anyone who’d try to separate us.

27

EDEN

Police cruisers flood the carnival grounds, their lights painting everything in harsh red and blue, instantly putting me on edge. My heart pounds as I watch them approach the main office where Tyson keeps all the carnival’s paperwork.

Detective Morris leads his team into Tyson’s office. I spot the office through a window presenting Ty with paperwork—likely a warrant. At the same time, Tyson reviews it with that calm, professional demeanor he’s perfected. Several officers spread across the grounds in Morris’s direction, methodically beginning their search.

One of the younger officers approaches me. “Ma’am, could you please point me toward the storage areas?”

“Of course,” I say, keeping my voice steady and leading him toward it. Once there, I clear my throat. “I’ve been documenting the carnival for my podcast. Would it be helpful if I shared my notes about the layout?”

“That would be great. Officer Chen will accompany you to get those,” he gestures to his colleague.

I lead Officer Chen to Remy’s trailer, hyper-aware of the search continuing around us. The secret compartments Remyshowed me should be safe—they’re far too clever to be found without insider knowledge. Still, cold sweat drips down my back as I gather my research materials.

The search continues for hours. I stay visible but unintrusive, answering questions when asked but keeping to myself. There is no need to draw unnecessary attention. When they finally leave empty-handed, I maintain my helpful demeanor until the last cruiser disappears.

Only then do I let myself breathe. Once the last police car disappears around the bend, I retreat to Remy’s trailer, hands trembling as the adrenaline lingers. I’ve barely closed the door when Remy slips in behind me.

“Smart,” he says quietly, studying me. “Staying in the background. Only speaking when spoken to.”

I sink into my chair, exhausted. “I didn’t want to draw attention.”

“Exactly.” He moves behind me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. The touch is grounding after hours of tension. “Most people try too hard to appear innocent. They talk too much and volunteer too much. You didn’t.”

“I’ve interviewed enough detectives for my podcast,” I murmur. “I know how they think.”

His fingers knead the tight muscles of my shoulders, and I lean back into his touch. “You’re learning,” he says, and there’s approval in his voice that makes my heart flutter. “Keep this up, and you might survive in our world.”

The praise in his words, the gentle pressure of his hands—it’s a heady combination. His touch is softer than usual—a reward, perhaps, for playing my part well.

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