Page 10

Behind me, the creature’s imitation of my laughter followed, high and desperate, swallowed up only when I crossed into the next chamber.

Except the laughter didn’t stop.

It followed me through the doorway, sliding along the walls like oil spreading across water. The corridor beyond was narrower than the last, lined with tarnished mirrors that reflected my masked face in fractured repetition. Gas lamps flickered in brass sconces, their flames guttering in rhythm with my pulse.

The Grinner’s footsteps dragged closer. Satin rustling. Needle teeth clicking.

“I want someone to follow me,” my voice whispered from behind, breathy and eager. “I want them close enough to touch. Close enough to take what I’m too afraid to ask for.”

“That’s not what I said.” I kept walking, refusing to look back, my heels striking the parquet hard enough to echo.

“I came here to be claimed,” the Grinner continued, its tone rising into something obscene, dripping with false surrender. “I want them to pin me down and make me admit what I’ve been hiding. I want to bleed for it.”

My stomach twisted. The words were close enough to the truth that denying them felt like lying.

The Grinner closed the distance. Ten feet behind me now. Five.

“I’m so wet I can barely stand it,” it purred in my voice, slow and filthy. “I want someone to shove their fingers inside me right here in the hall and make me come while the House watches. I want to be used like the desperate little⁠—”

“Enough.”

The voice cut through the corridor like a blade, low and edged with dark amusement.

Malachi stepped out of a doorway, his shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest, tattoos stark against his skin. His devil mask caught the dim light, horns gleaming. Silver-gray eyes locked onto mine through the brass slits, while his mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

The Grinner froze mid-step, its split grin stretching wider.

“She’s with me,” Malachi said, his tone casual, but the weight behind it thickened the air. “And you don’t get to play with my toys without permission.”

“I’m not your fucking toy,” I snapped, even as relief flooded my chest.

“No?” He tilted his head, gaze dropping slowly down my body before returning to my face. “Then why are you standing there looking like you want me to prove it?”

“I don’t⁠—”

“The House can smell what you want, little flower.” He moved closer, each step deliberate, until he was close enough for me to see the faint scar cutting through his left eyebrow. “It’s been cataloging every filthy thought you’ve had since you walked through the front door. And right now?” His gaze flicked to the Grinner, then back to me. “You’re practically screaming.”

A wet, rattling laugh escaped the Grinner before it retreated into the shadows, its satin suit dragging across the floor like a funeral shroud. Within seconds, it had vanished into the dark seam between two mirrors.

Leaving me alone with Malachi.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, forcing my voice steady.

“I know.” He stepped closer, crowding me back against the wall. “But watching you squirm is more entertaining than letting that thing ruin the surprise.”

“What surprise?”

“The part where you figure out that you’re not here to rescue your sister.” His hand came up and braced against the wall beside my head. “You’re here because the House wants you. And every time you get wet, every time your breath catches, every time you look at me like you can’t decide whether to run or drop to your knees—you’re giving it exactly what it needs.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not yet.” His other hand slid along my jaw, thumb pressing against my lower lip. “But you want me to. Don’t you?”

I should have shoved him away. I should have told him to go to hell and walked straight past him to the next gallery.

Instead, I held his gaze and said, “What if I do?”

His pupils dilated. For a heartbeat, something raw and unguarded flickered across his face before the cruel amusement slid back into place.