I don’t think she is, but fuck it.
Chapter 31
Reese
Holy hell.
I'm standing in the middle of what has to be the most depraved place I've ever seen in my life, and all I can think about is how badly I want Ramsey to put that glowing blue mask on. What the hell is wrong with me?
"I'm sure," I say, my voice coming out huskier than I intended. "Put it on."
His jaw tightens, eyes darkening as he stares at me for a long, tense moment.
Without breaking eye contact, Ramsey slides the mask over his face. The effect is immediate and fucking terrifying—in the best possible way. His eyes gleam through the slits, predatory and intense, while the stitched mouth gives him this muzzled look, like he's something dangerous being barely contained.
Oh, I am so fucking into this.
Theway it transforms him—hiding those familiar features behind something anonymous and dangerous makes my thighs clench together.
"Holy shit," I breathe, reaching up to touch the glowing edge. "You look..."
"Like what?" His voice is muffled but somehow even deeper behind the mask.
"Like someone I shouldn't be alone with," I say honestly. "But definitely want to be."
He makes a sound that's half growl, half laugh, his hands finding my waist and pulling me closer. Around us, the crowd seems to part slightly, people glancing at the mask and giving us space.
"What does it mean?" I ask, tracing the stitched mouth with my fingertip. "The mask. It means something, doesn't it?"
"How do you know it means anything?" His voice comes out muffled but deeper, rougher through the material.
I roll my eyes, gesturing around us at the sea of bodies grinding, fucking, bleeding. "A place like this, with all this debauchery? It definitely means something. Nobody here does anything without a reason."
He laughs, the sound dark and rich. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer until I'm pressed against his chest. "Smart girl."
"So tell me," I insist, sliding my hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. I can feel how tense he is under my touch. "What does the mask mean, Ramsey?"
Ramsey tilts his head, the mask making the gesture eerily inhuman. "It means I'm a ghost. Someone who comeshere to disappear, to do things without anyone knowing who I really am. It means I want to do things that might scare you."
My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to break free. I should be terrified. I should be dragging him back to the truck and demanding we leave. Instead, I'm pressing closer, craving whatever darkness he's keeping leashed inside.
"I'm not scared," I lie.
His laugh is more of a growl. "Liar."
Before I can respond, he's backing me up against the nearest wall, his body caging mine. One hand braces beside my head while the other slides up to wrap loosely around my throat—not squeezing, just resting there, a reminder of his strength.
"What else does the mask mean?" I ask again, my body trembling under his touch. His hand on my throat makes it hard to focus, but I need to know more.
"It's for the ones who want to chase," he says, voice low and dangerous. "And trust me, there's no shortage of people here who want to be chased."
"What do you mean, chase?" I ask, my voice catching.
His head dips closer, the mask's stitched mouth nearly touching my ear. "Primal play," he says, and the words send a shiver racing down my spine. "Chasing through the woods, catching your prey, devouring it."
Holy fuck.
"Like hunting?" I manage to ask, my mind filling with images that should terrify me but instead make heat pool between my legs.
