Page 6 of Dance of Madness

“I told you not to wear heels, princess,” he calls after me, his voice half-amused, half-feral, andallterror-inducing. “They don’t exactly screamsurvivalto me.”

Survival.

What thefuckhave I walked into?!

My heart is hammering in my throat. The corridor blurs past me, streaks of warped wallpaper and crumbling molding. I have no idea where I’m going—justaway.

From the beast charging after me through the darkness. From the madness threatening to pull me down into oblivion.

A bookcase appears out of nowhere. I dodge it at the last second, but my shoulder clips the edge. Pain blooms sharp down my arm, but I don’t care. Ican’tcare right now.

This was just supposed to be a dare. A joke.

Some creepy-ass house and a quick video.

Not a man. Notthis.

I round a corner, nearly slipping on the hardwood, tweaking my ankle.

Behind me, the footsteps pause.

I freeze, my ears straining, every hair on my skin standing on edge.

The sudden silence is somehow even worse than the chase. It’s like my breathing is suddenly too loud. Like my goddamn pulse is thudding in my veins at such a volume that people two blocks away will know where the fuck I am.

I tense and go utterly still against the wall.

Then I hear it again—slow. Measured. Deliberate.

Not the footsteps of someone chasing, though.

Someonehunting.

“Andblonde…?” The rasping, deeply masculine voice slices through the darkness and teases over my skin like knives. “I seem to recall you told me you were a brunette. However did you know that blondes are my favorite fuckingmeal.”

I’m in a horror movie. It’s the only explanation. A real-life horror movie, and now some fucking psycho in a mask is going to chase me down in a haunted house andeat me.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how that blonde ponytail looks wrapped around my fist while I watch you choke and gag on my cock.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Hide all you want, princess,” the feral voice growls. “The suspense is just making meharder.”

I choke down a whimper that threatens to escape my lips, strangling it in my throat. But not quite enough.

The man chuckles darkly.

“Come on, princess,” he murmurs quietly. “You fuckingaskedfor this.”

When I hear the creak of a floorboard, I bolt again, ignoring the pain in my ankle, my pulse exploding in my veins.

“Yessss,” the monster groans, his footsteps pounding after me as a fresh scream curdles in my chest. “Run, little princess,” he snarls. “FuckingRUNfor me.”

I reach the end of the hall and yank open a door?—

It’s a fuckinglinen closet.

I slam it shut and whirl, throwing myself down another hallway, my heart threatening to claw its way out of my chest. The hallway splits left and right. I haven’t a clue which way leads to freedom: I blindly choose right and sprint forward, half-limping.

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