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I stumble forward, my chest bumping against his. He’s still dressed, while I’m over here, in nothing but my flimsy angel wings and red high-tops, skin flushed and bruised, covered in my own sweat and cum.
Black, murderous eyes glare down at me, and I gulp before I can stop it. My tender throat screaming in protest.
Chills break out across my neck as a prickle of awareness scrapes along the back of my mind the longer I stare into those vacant orbs. Flashes of images flicker over my vision, but like always, that night is mostly shrouded in black.
Maybe I fucked him up more than I thought. Something twinges in my gut at the thought.
But before I can dwell too hard on it, Vale blinks, and whatever weirdness was there a second ago is gone, and I’m being shoved away like I’m nothing more than a useless, discarded rag doll.
He grabs the white, wrinkled sheet from the ground, balls it up, and throws it at my chest. Without a word, he stomps toward the door, only pausing when a muffled moan sounds from behind me.
His hand clenches around the doorknob, and he hangs his head before glancing over his shoulder. I follow his gaze to where little Pete struggles to move. His eyes are cracked to slits, head drooping like it weighs a thousand pounds.
“Mmrr,” he says. Moans, really.
“Great,” Vale mutters.
I cast another glance toward the door, my brows knitting when I catch the tick in Vale’s jaw as he scrubs his hands over his hair. His gaze is trained on the ground, but he suddenly seems miles away, lost in thought.
I take that as my sign to go. I got what I needed. No use pressing my luck.
Patience, little grasshopper.
Quickly, quietly, I wrap the sheet around my waist, knotting it against my hip bone where it starts to sag. Running a hand through my hair, I wince when my fingers catch on a knot.
Without another word, I easily side-step a mute Vale and throw open the door.
Loud, heavy rap music bowls me over, intermingling with the raucous noises of the party still going on strong below.
A couple people lingering by the stairs turn their wide eyes my way when they notice me strutting toward them, gazes dropping to my bare chest. I smirk and give them a wink.
They all but throw themselves out of the way, allowing me to pass by.
More stares greet me as I make my descent, weaving through the bodies loitering along the stairs and down the hall. An open bottle of rum just sitting unattended on an end table grabs my attention, so I grab it, bringing the lip to my mouth.
Music is blasting from the surround-sound speakers, tickling my ear drums. It feels like the whole house is vibrating with each resounding thud of the bass.
Some people laugh when they notice me. Some sneer. Some look horrified by the sheer sight of me.
My skin tingles. Chest feels all warm. Cheeks hurt from sucking in a smile.
I can feel their eyes boring holes into my exposed skin, tracing the bites and bruises that no doubt litter my back, my neck, my arms as I pass them.
My grin turns rogue at the thought, at the images I have in my head.
Did they hear us? Did they hear the way I screamed for him?
Can they see the wet spots in the sheet from Vale’s cum leaking down my legs?
Just as I reach outside, I hand the near-empty bottle to some greasy dude smoking a joint.
With a wink, I say, “Thanks for having me.”
Leaving him gaping after me, I skip down the steps, throw my arms out, grin up at the moon, and howl.
8
VALE
