Kill Switch (Devil’s Night Book 3)
Kill Switch: Chapter 10

Present

“Where are you taking me tonight?” I asked, leading Isabella and Jade up to my room, so I could finish getting ready.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m blind,” I shot back, heading to my closet and running my fingertips over the braille on the markers to replace the black shirts. “Broken glass on a floor can be a surprise for me. I’m not game unless you get specific.”

“It’s Halloween-y,” Jade offered.

But Isa hurried to shut her up. “Shhh…”

Great. It was almost Halloween—and worse, Devil’s Night—but my house already felt like a Fear Fest. I wasn’t in the mood.

And I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to leave.

“You need a girls’ night,” Jade chimed in again. “Especially with that freak show sleeping right down the hall. Let’s have some fun.”

I forced a small laugh, Damon immediately coming to mind, but I knew she meant my sister. All the dancers at the studio I grew up with—including Isabella and Jade—had plenty of Ari’s antics over the years as she waited on me at lessons or sat through recitals and performances.

I sifted through my black clothing, not replaceing the black, leather pants with zippers down the legs. Where were they? I hadn’t worn them since last winter.

A phone rang, and someone moved on my bed. “I have to take this,” Jade said. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”

I continued searching for my pants, diving into the white, blue, and every other section of clothing.

“So, how are you?” Isabella asked.

I almost turned around, but I was afraid my face would give me away. “I don’t know.”

Damon was here. I caught a whiff of his cigarettes outside when I was working out with Will, but I hadn’t heard anyone leave, so he was probably still in the house.

Did he give Will a hard time when he saw him here?

I smiled a little, thinking of Will. I couldn’t believe he’d shown up. I remembered hearing a lot about him in high school, and I knew he was Damon’s best friend.

Was.

But all of a sudden, he was at the door, and I didn’t have to say much for him to understand what was going on here. I got the impression the rest of Damon’s old crew was behind Will’s visit, too, and before I knew it, he had me in the pool, working on moves. Like it would do any good, but I’d try. Plus, he made me laugh.

I should’ve used the opportunity to ask so many things. Anything to get the upper hand with Damon and learn something useful. Especially when I found out Erika Fane was now engaged to Michael Crist, another one of Damon’s old friends.

“You know, you can come stay with me, right?” Isa said.

I turned my head, offering her a half-smile. I couldn’t come and stay with her, but it was comforting that she offered. She had no idea what he could do. As much as I wanted to take her up on the offer, I wouldn’t.

I let out a sigh, not replaceing my leather slacks anywhere. Dammit, Arion.

“Come with me for a sec,” I told Isa.

Running my hand over Mikhail’s head on the way, I left the room, still hearing Jade in the bathroom and chatting on the phone as we passed. I followed the wall, down the long hallway, past my father’s bedroom door and down to my mother’s. Or what used to be my mother’s.

I entered Arion’s new bedroom—not hearing any shrieks as I barged into her space, so she must not be in here—and veered right, into the dressing room my mother and father used to share.

“Search for black, leather skinny pants,” I told Isa and got to work going around the room, touching fabrics on their hangers for the familiar feel of my favorite thing in the world to wear.

“Where’s the light?” Isabella asked.

But before I could answer, voices carried in from the other room.

“Did you bring me something, Arion?” Damon said, and I stilled.

“Shh,” I whispered Isa.

“A present,” I heard my sister say. “A little one.”

I felt my way over to the door on the other side of the closet leading to my father’s old room. I hovered behind it as it hung open a little, Isabella damn-near knocking me over as she hid in back of me.

“How old is she?” he asked.

“However old you want me to be.”

That wasn’t my sister’s voice.

“Oh, my God, is that him?” Isa asked in a hushed tone. “They don’t sleep in the same room?”

I waved my hand at her to shut up. I didn’t want to be found here.

“Her pussy’s dripping,” Arion taunted, all sensual and gross. “Young, tight, and hot.”

“Really tight,” the girl added. “My foster daddy used to say I’m tighter than his hand when he would do me.”

I winced. Oh, my God.

Isa moved around me to where the door was cracked, and I guess she was peeking through.

“Don’t let them see you,” I mouthed, barely a whisper.

“Fuck her bare,” my sister went on. “Look how wide she spreads.”

I held my breath, waiting for his answer and dreading it, but I didn’t know why. My sister had another woman in there. She was trying to get him into bed with them. Was he going to do it?

“He has a tattoo?” Isabella asked me. “I didn’t know that. It’s under his arm. Can’t make it out, though.”

A tattoo? I don’t know. I don’t care…

“Fuck her bare,” Arion urged him. “Fuck her as hard as you want, and make me watch. When it’s time to come, come inside me.”

I instantly took a step back. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

It was disgusting. I didn’t…want to hear that crap. Their sordid behavior. This only confirmed what I already knew. He was twisted and mean and used people for his enjoyment, like he would use my sister and that girl. He never cared about me all those years ago.

I started to leave, but Isa stopped me. “Wait,” she said. “Why is Arion doing this? I’ve heard about swingers, but this is…”

“We want you,” Arion said, interrupting our conversation.

“I know you do,” Damon replied. “But you have no clue what I want. Or what I like.”

“I know you like to watch.” My sister’s voice stayed playful. “Wanna watch us?”

I remained still, trying to hear his answer.

“He hasn’t slept with her yet,” Isabella whispered to me.

“Who?”

“Your sister,” she clarified. “She’s trying to entice him. She’s trying to get him into bed.”

“Obviously.”

“He doesn’t want her,” Isabella told me. “My sister told me about him. They were in school together, too. Damon had a really bad reputation. And I mean, bad. People were genuinely afraid of him.”

“I don’t care,” I fired back, keeping my voice low. “I don’t want to hear about his sex life.”

“Girls hated him,” she went on as if I’d said nothing. “Man, they hated him with a passion.”

“Didn’t stop them from going after him, like it was going to be some big surprise when he screwed them and then ditched them,” I pointed out.

I mean, honestly, in all fairness, I wasn’t sure why he was hated more than the other horseman. They did the same thing. They all slept around.

“That’s not what he did, though,” Isabella explained. “Didn’t anyone tell you how he was? I mean, with other girls. Not you.”

The reminder that she knew—that everyone knew and saw the video of Damon and me and how he was with me—sobered me for a moment, making me forget what was happening in the other room.

“I think that’s part of the reason you had to leave school after that video,” she pointed out. “They hated you.”

“Who?”

“All the girls he wouldn’t sleep with,” she replied. “Rumor has it, Damon’s appetite is not always fun to satisfy.”

All the girls he wouldn’t sleep with. So he didn’t sleep around? Sure.

And then I remembered what my sister just said a moment ago, and how I met him when I was a teenager, and I paused.

“He likes to watch,” I said, finally understanding.

“No,” Isa corrected me. “He likes to fuck with heads and then watch.”

Seemed about right.

“Sex doesn’t turn him on,” my friend continued. “Deviance is what he likes. Stories abounded, so I don’t know what’s true, but there were rumors that he got Abigail Clijsters’ sister to screw her older sister’s boyfriend. Another story about a gang of guy students at a young teacher’s house one night. Will Grayson and some hotel maid. A couple of football players getting drunk and going at it in a car in the woods…”

She trailed off, and I didn’t know for sure if anything she said was true, but…a small part of me wanted to believe it was. Maybe it made me less his victim to know he was the fucked-up one and not me for falling for his lie.

“He would take girls out,” she went on, “let them think he was interested, and he was, but his pleasure was harder earned, let’s just say. After he got them to do whatever he wanted them to do, sometimes he’d get off on them and sometimes he wouldn’t.”

“And if he didn’t, they felt like even bigger shit afterwards,” I added.

“Used,” she agreed. “They degraded themselves for him and got nothing in return. He coerced but never forced. He kept you to himself, though. I wonder why.”

The voices in the next room were barely audible as I thought about her question. She was one of the few people who saw that video and didn’t see me asking for it. She knew he committed a crime. The other girls resented me after his arrest, because in their eyes, I got what they wanted.

Well, they could have him. I—

“Huh?” I heard my sister blurt out, sounding suddenly upset.

Her soft, sexy voice had changed. What happened?

“Get out,” Damon said.

“What is your problem?” I heard her demand, but I wasn’t staying to get caught here if he was kicking them out.

I pushed at Isa, backing away and signaling we needed to leave.

“Out,” Damon shouted as we left the closet, and we dashed into the hallway as I heard the closet door swing open and my sister come flying through.

“Told you,” Isa shot in my ear as we dove into my bedroom.

Strange appetite, indeed.

Whatever. I was just glad whatever my sister was trying to make happen failed miserably. I blamed her as much as him for our current situation, and I hoped she was unhappy with her new husband.

Her husband.

I shook my head clear, feeling something hit my body. I reached up and caught it.

“I got your pants,” Isabella said. “Get dressed, and let’s go.”

Go where?

Although I no longer cared as long as it was out of this house.

I had no idea what she and Jade had planned for tonight as long as I didn’t think about him.

Or her.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” Jade asked.

“Just paraphrase.”

She put a pen in my hand and led me to the wooden makeshift counter, placing the tip on the line where I was supposed to sign.

“It’s a disclaimer,” she explained, “talking about how the haunted house is a 4D experience, and the actors will engage with you and touch you. They’re not responsible or liable for any health problems. If you feel like anything is too much or you want it to stop, simply yell “quarter” and they will stop and offer assistance if you want to leave.”

My hand started to shake as I pressed the pen to the paper and signed my name. I laughed at myself. You would think I’d be used to being scared by now, but the idea of mad doctors, ax murderers, and chainsaws was even freakier when you couldn’t see them.

Quarter. Like as in ‘forgiveness’ or ‘safe haven’? Well, at least they had a safe word.

“Stay close,” Isa told me as we headed toward the entrance. “Hang onto my belt loop or arm, and let me know if you want to leave, okay?”

“Oh, you’ll run before I do,” I joked.

“Probably right,” Jade chuckled.

I heard Isabella’s tsk but didn’t give her any more crap. The sun had set a couple hours ago, and I wished I’d brought a coat as we shuffled through the fallen leaves toward the warehouse and conglomeration of various-sized sheds that made up the haunted house.

The chill in the air seeped through my oversized black sweater, my exposed shoulder already feeling like I had an ice cube sitting in that one spot, but my legs were nice and toasty in the leather pants. Thank goodness I wore my Vans, since I was sure I’d be stumbling and scurrying a lot tonight.

“Welcome to Coldfield,” a dark, deep voice suddenly said right next to me and I jumped a little.

Shit. I chuckled and took a step away, hearing my friends’ laughter, as well.

“Nice blood,” Jade commented, and I guessed he must be one of the actors sent to greet everyone in line. Blood, huh? I imagined prop blood on his face and clothes. Maybe a hacksaw in his hand with a really dull blade, if any, of course, to keep it safe.

Something brushed my arm, and then I heard his voice right next to me again. Did he move in closer when I moved away?

“Did you girls sign the waiver?” he asked.

“Yes,” Isa answered, followed by a little giggle.

“Do you know the safe word?” he pressed.

“Yes,” she said again.

“Good.” I could damn-near feel his breath on me, and I almost forgot to breathe. “Don’t use it. I don’t like to stop my fun.”

They laughed again, comfortable in their knowledge that they were indeed safe, but all I could do was stand there, déjà vu weighing me down like an anchor. The fear factor, the taunting, his threatening promises… So much for getting away from the house, everyone in it, and clearing my head tonight. This guy was Damon. Or like the point-five version.

And then I felt it.

His breath was on my cheek as he spoke. “I’ll see you inside,” he whispered.

My body went cold and my chest caved. God, he was like him. The tone. The taunt.

“He likes you,” Jade teased. “Watch your back inside, Winter.”

I barely breathed.

My kind of fun has a price. Better enjoy myself while I can.

My blood pumped hot, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t cold anymore.

I knew this guy wasn’t him. He didn’t sound like him or smell like him or feel like him, but I lost all semblance of thought or reason as the line moved, Isa moved, and took me with her. Maybe I should be afraid of walking in here and remembering the terror Damon caused, but I went anyway, unable to resist wanting to test myself. To feel whatever was inside again. Even if just to see if I would handle myself any differently.

The air turned thick and musty as we stepped over the threshold and drafts hit me, like there was fake fog. My friends immediately started laughing and making surprised sounds, but since I couldn’t see what they were seeing, I had to rely on everything else to get a picture of the atmosphere in my head.

I absorbed the scent of water on rocks, like a cave, and the echoes of muffled screams, howls, and cries in the distance. Some of it was sound effects, but others clearly weren’t.

And somewhere, far off, the merry, child-like tune of a carousel pierced the windy night.

Something touched the top of my head, and I ducked, my heart leaping in my chest as I laughed. They had people in the rafters.

Coldfield was a Halloween attraction that popped up a couple of years ago, and no one knew who owned it, but everyone seemed to love it. Overnight—every September thirtieth—the old warehouse on the outskirts of town was finally put to use and transformed, now attached to an array of sheds, nooks, and outbuildings. Some people missed the parties they had out here on Devil’s Night, but most loved the new haunted theme park, especially with The Cove—the old amusement park up the coast a few miles—now shut down and abandoned.

“Pray fooooor the dead, and the dead will pray for youuuuuu,” a creepy-ass voice said, and I felt a plastic bag blow into my body with a breeze. “They will pray for you and they will prey on you.”

A cackling laugh followed, and I pushed the huge plastic sheet away from me, but as my hand dipped into the plastic, it hit something solid, and then…a male growl followed, the plastic was all over us, and arms and legs attacked through the sheet.

“Ah! Ah!” the girls screamed, scrambling away as I tightened my grip on Isa’s arm.

My stomach flipped, and I breathed out a small laugh.

I inched toward the far wall to get away from the huge guy behind the tarp and felt a hand poking out of the wall. I jumped back, but it grabbed for me, and we all were laughing as a dozen or more hands reached for us out of both sides of the hallway now.

We moved from room to room, some of it—like the evil operating room—going over my head, because there weren’t many sounds or screams or anything to give away what was actually going on, but I liked the juggernaut and his sledgehammer, pounding the floor ahead of us and chasing us into one room after another. My heart beat so hard, but it was thrilling to be chased, because I knew I was safe. I wasn’t as scared as the other two when people came out of the portraits, because obviously, I couldn’t see them following us with their eyes.

The spiral staircase almost made me pee my pants, though, single file and being chased up the tiny and steep incline by Jason Vorhees. You didn’t want to be taking up the rear in a situation like that, and of course, I always did, because I had to follow instead of lead.

It was fun, though. And I was too distracted to be worried about the shitstorm at my house.

“Oh, shit!” Isabella shouted.

“What?” Jade asked.

“There! When the light flashes again, look.”

I gripped Isa with both hands, huddling behind her and waiting for whatever was coming.

“Oh, shit!” Jade yelled.

What? What was going on?

They laughed. “He’s getting closer every time the light flashes!” Jade squealed.

And then I heard it.

The fucking chainsaw.

I groaned, my knees shaking. I hated Leatherface.

Laughter and shrieks, and then we all stumbled as several chainsaws raced in, chomping at our legs with their harmless, chainless saws. I hopped from one leg to the next, trying to keep hold of Isabella as we all struggled to tear away from our attackers. She grappled for my hand, but all of a sudden, the wall behind me gave way, I fell through, losing my grip on her arm, and freefell backward onto the hard cement before I heard a door close, and all the screams and chainsaws faded away.

I was suddenly in silence.

I pushed off the cold floor, held out my hands, and walked back in the direction from where I fell. What the hell?

At least, I thought it was the direction. I might’ve gotten spun around as I fell into the room.

“Isabella!” I called out, my hands landing on a wooden wall. I patted around for a door knob or hinges—anything to tell me where I was at or how to get out.

“Jade!” I bellowed.

But everything sounded distant. The cries and yelps. The music beyond the walls and down other hallways.

“Hello?” I said. “How…how do I get out?”

I only fell a few feet. Where the hell was I? My friends were right on the other side of one of these walls.

“Hello!” I shouted. “Help!”

Was I alone in here? I trailed down the walls, feeling for a way out. God, I hope so. I wanted my friends, but I didn’t want anyone else. I was having a blast a minute ago, but now… This changed things. How would I get away? Or replace my frickin’ way out?

A clink pierced the silence behind me, and I froze.

“Hello?”

Was I alone? That sounded like a chain.

I shuffled down the wall, searching for the door—if it even was a real door and not a trap door—and a chill crawled up my shoulder. I pulled up my sweater to cover the bare skin, but it just fell down again.

I sucked in a deep breath, belting out, “Isa! Jade!”

But then, behind me, a chain clanked with another like there was wind, but I didn’t feel a draft.

I whipped around, shooting out my hands.

“Hello?” I demanded. “Who’s there?”

Are you going to hurt me?

I don’t know.

Do you want to?

Kind of.

A silvery sting throbbed between my legs, and I clenched my thighs to get control of myself. Fuck.

Safe word. What was the safe word?

Quarter. I let out a breath, relieved I’d remembered it. Thank God.

I took a few steps into the room. Maybe there was a hallway, and it connected to another part of the haunted house. There was a whole line of people outside. Isabella, Jade, and I weren’t the only customers in here.

But then I brushed cool metal, and I jerked back on reflex, hearing the chain chime as it hit another one. Hesitantly, I waved my hands in front of me again, sending several chains swinging. They were hanging from the ceiling?

I let out a little laugh. Maybe it was just a draft, after all.

But then I heard chains clink again, and my smile fell. It was a lot of them, and not a little tinkling that comes with a breeze. It was …purposeful.

I opened my mouth, but my voice was barely working. “Hello?”

Boo, I heard Damon that night in my head. I’d known someone was there.

And I knew I wasn’t alone now. There was someone in here.

“Qu…w…” Bile burned my throat, and my mind raced.

It’s not real. It’s just a game.

Except the last time this happened, I said the same thing and I’d been wrong.

I pawed the air in front of me, brushing chains but stilling them to keep from making noise, so I could hear the room.

But it was complete silence.

My pulse thundered in my ears, and sweat cooled my neck as my breath blew a strand of hair hanging in my face that I was too afraid to budge an inch to move.

I could hear him breathing.

I knew he was there.

I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, but instead of uttering the safe word, I drew in a breath, feeling his eyes on me. Every inch of my skin became sensitive and aware of my clothes suddenly chafing my skin. My lacy bra and sweater irritated the points of my breasts, and the skin of my thighs stuck to the leather pants, my belly quaking and heat settling between my legs, making me throb.

My heart filled my throat, and I was so scared, but I…I wanted to yank my sweater down and be rid of it. It was hot, and it was like every hair on my body vibrated. What the hell?

All of a sudden, a gang of chains shook and swooped, there was a loud, deep growl, and someone started charging. I opened my mouth to cry out, but he clenched my neck in his fist and shoved me into the wall, jabbing something into my stomach several times. It didn’t hurt, though. It was probably one of those prop knives that retracted, but the fear of the moment still overtook me, and I screamed as I was thrown down on the ground, landing on something soft.

I didn’t have time to guess what it was before he was on top of me, forcing my arms over my head with one hand. I gasped and opened my mouth to cry out again, but then he shot his knife up to my neck, pressing on the skin as he breathed down on me, and I stopped, aware of the skin of my nipples, burning under the itchy fabric of my sweater and his weight on me. He felt like fire on my skin.

“I’m hungry,” he whispered down on me.

I smelled a wood fire on him, and cinnamon wafted off his breath. I smelled cigarettes, too, but they weren’t like Damon’s.

Music pounded somewhere, shaking the foundation, and I guessed I was lying on a mattress, another creepy prop that I was glad I couldn’t see.

“Give me your tongue,” he growled softly. “I want to eat it.”

I shook my head slowly. Was I taunting him?

Why wasn’t I screaming?

The prop knife left my neck and dug into my side, retracting on impact. I sucked in a breath, the blood there throbbing instantly, but I was safe. I knew I was safe.

And somewhere, deep inside my head where I felt the burn of shame, but no one else could see or read me, I’d missed this. I’d missed my mind racing, my heart trying to jump out of my chest, and someone not handling me like I was a glass ball. Where, in the inch of space between him and me, I reveled in the dirt on my skin and the terror of his words.

Why wasn’t I using the safe word?

The actor’s weight eased off mine as he pulled up a little. “Are you okay?”

His voice was soft now. Normal.

“Yes,” replied.

“You know the safe word, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You don’t want to use it?”

I swallowed and shifted my leg, pulling it out from under him, but then I realized now he was between my legs. He settled in, slowly lowering his body on top of me again.

“Last chance,” he whispered the same low growl as before.

I breathed hard, the heat pooling between us, and I tipped my head back, taking his wrist and putting the knife on my neck again.

“Keep it there,” I told him.

God, I didn’t care. I liked the illusion. I liked that feeling again, and I didn’t fucking care—here and in the dark where this dude would never see me again, because I would never come back here—that I needed this. He did this to me. I hated it and hated him, but I wanted to see. Needed to see. See if I liked it or to prove to myself that he, and what he did to me, didn’t mean anything and that I didn’t want it.

“Or maybe I’m hungry for something else, Little Girl,” he threatened.

Pressing the knife into my throat, he thrusted between my legs, and we both sucked in a breath as our bodies moved in unison. My eyes rolled back, his cock already hard through his jeans as it rolled over my clit. I could feel the wet heat in my panties, and I closed my eyes, diving into the black.

He humped me over and over again, sucking air between his teeth and getting rougher as his narrow hips rolled again and again. He dug the knife’s blade under my chin, and my orgasm crested, starting to roll through me.

“Holy shit,” he said, breaking character. “God, this is fucking awesome.”

And I lost it. The orgasm drifted away, hanging on by a tether until it snapped and disappeared.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I cracked.

Jesus Christ.

Pushing him away, I stopped him and crawled out from under him.

What the hell was I doing?

Music poured into the room with screams and laughter, and I knew others had fallen through the trap door, too. I followed their voices, scurrying past them and out the door.

“Wait, come back!” the guy yelled after me. “I didn’t mean anything. Are you okay?”

No. I wasn’t okay. I’d lost my fucking mind.

“Winter!” I heard Jade call. “Oh, my God. Thank God. We’ve been looking for you everywhere. You freaked us out. Are you okay?”

“Let’s just get out of here.”

The lost orgasm still lingered, keeping me hot and my head buzzing. I still needed the release.

They led me back to the entrance, and I sucked in lungfuls of air as we stepped outside into the welcome chill.

“Whew,” Isa giggled. “We have to come back. That was fun.”

I chewed my lip, not wanting to think about it. I wasn’t about to tell them what just happened, even though I knew they’d eat it up.

I didn’t hate that I enjoyed it. I hated that it reminded me of him, and that was why I enjoyed it. I still wanted to come. He’d changed my palette.

I didn’t want to understand Damon, but sometimes, I couldn’t help thinking of all the times he watched me but never touched me—confusing me and intriguing me. And how he hadn’t really changed so much.

Thirteen years ago he was hiding from his mother in a fountain, and after what happened in his room tonight and what Isa had told me, he was still hiding. Trying to feel everything through everyone else as he stood back and watched.

But bottom lines never changed. He still took what I never would’ve given him.

They all thought he was different with me, not realizing that I was just a different kind of kink to him. Something to get him off. He fucked with my head just like he did everyone’s, and coerce is still a way to force.

He was as guilty as sin.

No one knew the real tragedy, though. It wasn’t a matter of why he was different with me, but rather, now… I was different because of him.