Page 67 of The Invite
Shit. He’s started the game.
I grip the knife’s handle tighter and away from my body. It feels funny in my hand, like I don’t know how to use it. I don’t want to accidentally cut or stab myself. It hurts like a bitch, like someone is gutting you raw and twisting your insides with multiple fists.
Besides, one scar is enough.
I don’t want to make it a pattern by collecting more.
However, I’m not above stabbing Augustus to show him he’s messed with the wrong girl. He has it coming after making me suffer through his tyranny and refusal to leave me alone.
On tiptoes, I move toward the arched doorway of the living room that leads to the staircase. As I close in on it, a text comes. Without pausing, I glance at my phone.
@thedeviluworship: Warm.
It confirms my suspicions he’s upstairs. A gloomy feeling rises because if he’s on the floor above, then how can he see where I’m going?
Has he installed cameras behind my back?
Is that how he’s tracking my moves? What other explanation could be there besides him hijacking my house? He could’ve easily done it while I was at work.
I search the ceilings for signs of a red dot or something but catch nothing.
@thedeviluworship: I’m waiting.
@nessatheatheist: Did you put cameras in my house?
@thedeviluworship: Cold.
I squeeze the phone in frustration, fighting the urge to throw it against the wall or possibly at him. Instead, I begrudgingly trudge forward. I’ve climbed two steps when he sends another message.
@thedeviluworship: Colder.
I scowl when I suddenly feel a shadow move past my back. Whipping around with my heartbeat jumping to my throat, I squint my eyes down the hallway splitting my kitchen from the living room.
Stepping onto the landing, I walk a little farther and listen out for any noises or his footsteps.
@thedeviluworship: Warmer.
The kitchen is empty but a glass sits near the sink, which wasn’t there before.
@nessatheatheist: Thirsty much?
I can’t resist taunting him. The bubble shows up that he’s typing a reply. I use that opportunity to peek into the living room. If only I could see the light from his phone to get the upper hand.
@thedeviluworship: Only for your creamy cum, Miss Nessa.
My pussy quivers remembering the rough strokes of his tongue.
@thedeviluworship: No cheating.
Color warms my cheek. I jump when a feathery light touch brushes over my hips and I whip around. Was it my imagination or a ghost? Augustus can’t vanish into thin air.
I’m tempted to use the flashlight on my phone but I don’t want him to see the weapon I’m clutching.
Bypassing the kitchen, I reenter the drawing room. The curtain flies at the perfect time and I catch a dark figure walking out the door at the opposite end. I’m certain that it’s him, not a figment of my overactive imagination.
I walk ahead past the couch.
@thedeviluworship: Warmer.
