Page 63 of Deadly Sacrifice

And the more I think about that — getting chosen for something like this, something that she’s held on to for someone special — the more it buries into my chest and turns into something else. Something beautiful and dangerous and fucked up, but I can’t lose it now. I won’t.

Prudence hiccups through her panicked breaths, and it snaps me back into the moment. I pull her back against my chest, sitting there with her between my legs. I tip her chin up and lean down to meet her lips halfway, and the moment I feel her open for me, I know I’m damned. Like I said, I’m addicted. Worse, I’m obsessed.

And now that I know what it feels like for one fucking person to choose me above all others, I won’t be letting her slip away. My focus has changed. My priorities have shifted. And if The Celestials want her so goddamn badly, they’ll have to pry her from my dead fingers.

“I should go, um, wash up,” Prudence mumbles after a moment.

“Can I help? We can take a shower,” I say. She looks at me incredulously. “You’re probably sore, right? Or you will be tomorrow. The warm water might help,” I explain, already ushering her up from the bed and taking her hand.

Prudence gives me this soft, thankful smile, and I swear to God, it shoots into my veins like the strongest heroine. I already need the next hit. This woman has created a monster in me.

No, that’s not right.

I was born a monster in a fucked up world full of rejects.

She’s just the only one who’s offered me another path for my destruction.

32

Prudence

The next night, pounding on the door wakes me, and I jerk up in bed with my hand clutching my damn chest. Blinking through the bright lights, I look at Annie and find her just as startled.

“Wake up, ladies!” Heather shouts from our open door. Which was closed and locked when we went to sleep. So Queen Bee has a key, good to know.

Before we can ask her why, she’s gone and pounding on the next door down the hall.

Annie groans, flopping back down on her pillow. “It’s Fright Night,” she mumbles.

Screwing my face up, I ask, “Sorry, what?”

With a heavy sigh, she tosses her comforter off and gets out of bed. As she sluggishly moves through the room, grabbing a sweater, socks, and shoes, she explains, “Fright Night is just an excuse to haze the initiates. They pick a random night in October each year, so the newbies never know when to be prepared. That’s part of it, I guess. And then they drag us all out, blindfolded, and do whatever they can to scare the shit out of us until the sun rises the next morning.”

Pretty sure I’m still half asleep, but the only thing that falls out of my mouth is, “Why?” I roll my eyes at myself the second I say it. Stupid question. Greek life sucks, that’s why.

Still, Annie gives me a real answer. “It’s their last effort to weed out the weak. Anyone who can’t handle Fright Night is cut before they can get pinned in next month.”

With an irritated huff, I finally drag myself out of bed and follow Annie’s lead. I toss a big, thick hoodie on over my sleep shirt, get leggings, socks, and shoes on, and then tie my hair back out of my face.

By the time we’re finished and wondering what the hell to do next, Heather does another round down the hallway. She pokes her head in, smiling like a damn psycho. “Ready for this?” she asks, looking from Annie to me. “Tonight will make or break you. Good luck.” And then she’s gone, going on to the next door and the next after that.

I grab my phone before anything else.

Annie shakes her head with wide eyes. “We’re not allowed to bring anything. Especially a phone,” she whispers, like she’s worried Heather or one of the other senior members will come running if they hear her.

Gritting my teeth, I stare at my phone in my hand, wondering if I can sneak it on me somehow. But I don’t have pockets or a bra, and I don’t think this is urgent enough to try shoving it somewhere else. It’s sure as hell not going anywhere near my sore vag. Thinking about Creed and everything from last night gives me butterflies, but I shake them away and focus. I can think about that another time.

“Alright,” I sigh, setting it down on my nightstand. “But if I die out there tonight, I’m blaming you.”

She laughs nervously as we leave the safety of our room and follow a bunch of other probationary members to the front of the house. We’re all lined up in the living room, waiting to be blindfolded — because that doesn’t sound like an accident waiting to happen — before the night can truly start. Annie and I are pretty far back in the line, so there’s plenty of time for my nerves to grow out of control.

“How did you know about fright night?” I whisper to her. “You’re a freshman, you should be just as clueless as I am.”

She shoots me a sympathetic look over her shoulder as we move up the line. “Mark warned me months ago. He wanted to make sure I would be able to keep myself composed. I doubt he would’ve wanted me if I freaked out tonight and got kicked out of the sorority,” she answers with a hard edge to her tone. I roll my eyes and she shrugs, like she’s finally starting to see how truly awful he treated her and is learning to move on.

Once everyone is blindfolded and awkwardly waiting for a murderer or some shit, my nerves take a nosedive. Ten minutes must creep by while my imagination runs wild, and then the creak of the front door sounds in the large living room, and several pairs of feet shuffle inside.

Someone grabs my shoulders, roughly jerking me around and steering me through the foyer and outside. My feet stumble a couple times on the way, and whoever’s bruising my fucking shoulders grunts as he corrects me twice before I can eat shit. He stops me after a short walk, curling his fingers into my skin while we wait, I guess. No one speaks, but I hear the occasional sniffle and the soft ruffle of clothes. Christ, it’s fucking cold out. Even with my thick sweater, the chilly night air seeps through to my bones.

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