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She kept turning back, something new in her eyes that hadn’t been there when she first saw me and we’d been dancing. I knew this girl’s fear. I’d seen it every day I visited that cabin so many summers ago.
Run, little one.
She finally did. She wised up to the warning of cops. She followed the crowd, and I stayed with her until she got outside into a rideshare. She must have sent for one during her run, and I finally wised up myself and let her go. The car got her out of there, and she escaped the area and the trees flashing with red and blue lights. The cops were quickly surrounding the place, and I turned my back to it all. I followed the crowd in the opposite direction, not feeling like dealing with the police myself tonight.
Maybe Aspen Davis was just moving through town. Like stated, these raves were popular, and she probably just got word.
That better be the case.
I wouldn’t let my thoughts entertain anything else. I had enough on my fucking plate as it was.
And the last thing I needed was another vice to tempt me to dodge the shit life was currently throwing me.
CHAPTER
THREE
Aspen
Why the fuck did I drink so much coffee?
I groaned before dodging out of my lecture. My very first one and I was already missing shit. I’d been distracted, and now, I had to pee.
Christ.
I found the bathroom after I bumbled my way out of class. No one really paid too much attention in the giant lecture hall that sat a few hundred, and I was pretty sure my disguise worked. I didn’t consider myself crazy famous. I was a performer, but my industry was pretty niche since I did classical music. In the right circles, people definitely knew who I was, though. Especially if one followed hip-hop.
Dark shades over my eyes and ball cap on my braided locs, I washed my hands after using the bathroom. I could barely see shit since my sunglasses were so dark, but I resisted taking them off. The light would burn into my tired eyes. Hence the need for so much coffee this morning.
I… couldn’t sleep.
For several reasons, I had issues last night, but the biggest one was the reason I was currently washing my hands raw instead of going back to class.
What the fuck was that last night?
What the fuck was he or, I guess, who the fuck was he? The guy in the skull mask last night had fucked me like a god, a beautiful sinful god who hit my shit in all the right places. I hadn’t gone to that rave with the intent of fucking anyone. Quite the contrary, I’d actually wanted to just go and get out of my head for a little bit, to blend in and have some fucking fun for once in my life.
It’d been nice.
It’d been freeing, and even more so after I met that guy. He’d been a big dude in black jeans, a cutoff tee, and huge arms. Everything about him oozed sex appeal from his dark boots to his flashy cross to the sharp earrings in his ears. He’d been a white guy who had swagger for fucking days, and I wasn’t usually that much of an easy lay. Actually, it was the opposite because of the industry I was in. Guys in entertainment could be the worst, cocky, and frankly, because the guy hadn’t been very verbose before we got going, that’d been a big part of his appeal.
That and his mask.
I didn’t realize I was into any kind of kink, but the fact that he wore one basically melted the panties off me. That and all his jewelry, and the fact that he smelled like the fucking ocean. He also knew what to do with his jewelry. He had on this gorilla ring at the rave and buried it deep into my pussy before taking me…
God, why did you fuck a stranger?
It’d been a mistake, and how I knew it was a mistake was because of what hooking up with that random guy last night had done. It sent me into a tailspin of nightmares and memories I’d spent years (and therapy) trying to flush out of my system.
I was still washing my hands.
I turned off the water, letting my hands drip in the sink. I hadn’t forgotten the memories, of course. I mean, how could I? I’d been kidnapped.
Go back to class.
Making myself, I forced the images of a dark-haired boy out of my head. Thatcher Reed had been crazy, and the guy wearing a Punisher skull mask calling me the nickname that psycho creep had given me (while holding me against my will) had been a coincidence.
It had to be.
