Kill Switch (Devil's Night #3)

by Penelope Douglas

  To dive and fall.

  To have a lifetime of searching for something.

  Or to have five minutes of everything.

  I slowed as the music ended and stopped, the chill of the water seeping into my bones, but I felt awake for the first time in years. I was alive.

  I wanted it. I wanted it all.

  I pushed my hair out of my face and over the top of my head, breathing in so deep, because my lungs felt so much bigger all of a sudden.

  “Winter?” someone called.

  Crane.

  I walked across the fountain maze, smiling through the towers of water and smoothing back my hair as I made my way to the edge, following his voice.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  Crane was silent a moment, and then said, “Occupied at the moment. Would you like me to give him a message?”

  Occupied.

  Okay. If he wanted to play, let him come find me then.

  I was ready.

  “Let him know that I’ll be going to the Throwback at The Cove tonight with some friends,” I told Crane. “So he doesn’t send out the hounds.”

  “And you’ll be home by eleven?” he demanded more than asked.

  But I just cocked my head, unable to hide the small smile he had to know was pure mischief. “Of course.”

  Throwback Night was organized by some of Thunder Prep’s alumni as one last hoorah at The Cove before it was sold off, rumors flying for a while now that several investors were interested in redeveloping the property. Back in the day, this was a theme park—rides, roller coasters, fun houses, and games—and mostly everything still stood here, abandoned for years, having been dark since we were kids. I remember coming here once when it was still active.

  The sea air breezed through the park as the music blasted and partygoers laughed and shouted, their excitement to go back to when we were high schoolers palpable. Most of them were in college or beyond now, although there were some current students of Thunder Bay about tonight, and I kind of dug feeling the old uniform on me again, not having worn it since I was sixteen. Before I fled town to go back to Montreal.

  As part of the party theme, we were requested to don our uniforms in keeping with the school spirit. Unfortunately, my body has grown and developed a bit more since then, so I’d asked Rika if she had an extra skirt and shirt from her senior year, still able to use my old necktie with no problem.

  “Come on, dance!” Alex pulled my arm.

  I laughed, taking hers instead and letting her lead me out to the dance area where the DJ spun music up off to my right. Michael and Erika were here somewhere, Kai and Banks were on their way, Will had said, and I hadn’t heard from Damon, although I left my phone in Will’s car, so I wouldn’t know if he’d tried to call anyway.

  People bumped into me, and I couldn’t see the space around me, so I kind of just stood there, unsure about this kind of dancing in front of others. I’d slow danced at school events before, but this was different.

  “I can’t dance with a crowd,” I shouted over the music. “I’ll smack someone in the face.”

  “I gotcha,” Will came in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and swaying both of us back and forth. “You can dance with me.”

  Which I’m sure was just an excuse to put his hands on something.

  I reached behind me, patting him on the cheek. “A true knight.”

  “See, she gets it,” he joked, probably to Alex.

  I heard her laugh.

  I felt a little more confident with him holding onto me, and we moved, our bodies in sync to the beat of the music.

  “Misha!” I heard him call to someone. “Hell yeah. Didn’t think you’d be here.”

  “Hey, man,” another guy said, approaching.

  Will stopped dancing but still held onto me, reaching over my shoulder for one of those handshake-hug things men did.

  “Wow, you look like shit,” Will told him.

  “They said to wear school clothes,” the guy retorted. “I was always out of uniform back then, so this is it.”

  Will’s chest shook at my back.

  “Winter, this is my cousin Misha Lare,” he said. “A couple years behind you in school, I think.”

  I held out both my hands, taking his and shaking it. I knew the name. He was younger, though, so we didn’t cross paths.

  “And his girlfriend, Ryen,” Will introduced her like she was an annoying little sister.

  “Hi, Winter,” she said.

  I smiled, following her voice. “Hi.”

  “Come on, Ryen,” Will prodded. “Wouldn’t you have loved to see Misha in his uniform tonight?”

  “You look like all the frat boys I’ll warn my daughters about when they go to college,” she griped.

  Misha snorted, and Will laughed.

  “You guys dating?” Misha asked, and I guessed he was talking to Will and me.

  “No, man. She’s Damon’s.”

  “Damon Torrance’s?” Misha said it like he was spitting out food.

  Will tightened his hold. “I know, right?”

  “I’m not Damon’s.” I shook my head.

  “Yeah, she is,” Will shot back.

  I didn’t want to be talked about like I was property. That kind of conversation was fine in private, but Misha’s tone definitely relayed that he had an opinion about Damon. And not a positive one. He didn’t know me. I didn’t want him drawing conclusions.

  “Who’s Damon?” Ryen asked. “Have I met him?”

  “God, no,” Misha blurted out. “Let’s get some beers before he shows up. Later, man.”

  “Bye,” Will called out as they left.

  I let out a sigh, reminded that a lot more people than just me had a past or perception of Damon. He had his work cut out for him if he wanted a future in this town. That was, if he cared about what anyone thought, anyway.

  “To be fair,” Will said, setting his chin on my shoulder. “Misha hates everyone.”

  “You don’t have to sugarcoat it,” I said. “If anyone knows what I’m getting myself into, it’s me.”

  He breathed out a laugh.

  And then he stood up straight, still holding me tight. “Having Damon around was the only time I ever felt solid in my life,” he told me. “He’s powerful. But painful.”

  The corner of my mouth turned up in a small smile, knowing exactly what he was talking about. The highs with Damon reached the sun.

  But our kind of fun had a price.

  He pulled away from me, leaving my back, and I stood there as everyone danced around me, wondering where he just went. I moved my hands around my sides to feel for him. Did he leave?

  “Alex,” I called.

  Where did they go?

  And then someone was at my back, the height and broad shoulders covering every inch of me, the cloves drifted on the air, and I knew it was him.

  His hand reached around my neck, cupping my face and turning my head, as I closed my eyes and felt him come down, pressing his forehead to mine.

  Damon.

  His other hand came around my stomach, touching me and pressing me into his body, his chest rising and falling behind me. He felt like five years ago. Like seven years ago.

  And I wanted it.

  “You’re supposed to be wearing your uniform,” I whispered, feeling the jeans and brushing the hoodie with my hand as I reached up to touch his face.

  “This is how you knew me then.”

  I appreciated he wanted to be who I fell for in high school.

  But they were always the same person.

  “As long as you’re Damon Torrance, I don’t care what you wear,” I told him.

  He kissed me, melting his mouth into mine and tipping my head back, cradling it in his arm so he could deepen the kiss and sink his tongue into my mouth.

  A swirl of excitement spun all the way down to between my thighs, and I was already panting as his heat just made me want so much more right now.

  A bed. A whole night
. Just him.

  “Did you like it?” he asked against my mouth.

  “Huh?”

  Did I like the kiss? Wasn’t it obvious? My body was a puddle in his hands.

  The fountain?” he clarified when I didn’t respond.

  He turned me around and lifted me up, and I could feel the draft under my skirt, so I knew it was riding up, but I didn’t care.

  Just take me home.

  “It was incredible,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Perfect for sitting.”

  Just like we liked to do.

  We kissed again, harder and deeper, and I gripped the hair at the back of his head, forcing us to go slow every time he wanted to speed up. I hovered, teasing him, and dipped in for a kiss only to pull away again.

  “Winter,” he growled low.

  We stayed there, nose to nose and breathing each other in, not wanting to pull away for a moment, even to get out of here and find a bed.

  But he put me down and took my hand, leading me off. “Follow me.”

  We walked through the crowds of people dancing and hanging out, the music pounding and the smell of grilled food hanging in the air, and I trailed close, holding his hand and his arm, too.

  I still wasn’t sure how to feel about a lot of what had happened and what was happening now. What was prison like for him? Did I feel badly about any of it?

  What about Arion? What were his intentions with both of us, and what about my father? Did I resent that Damon was the one who exposed him?

  I gripped his arm, overwhelmed with just the need for him, and I couldn’t care about the rest right now. Just hide with me. Just hide us away.

  We wound deeper into the park, passing some voices here and there, but the music and hustle and bustle of the party were far behind, leaving us on our own the farther we went.

  He stopped and rose up. “Steps,” he told me.

  I followed him, still holding his hand and arm as I followed him up a small flight of five metal stairs.

  We took a few steps, and he paused again, telling me, “The Midnight Maze.”

  I smiled curiously, cocking my head. I didn’t remember this, but my pulse quickened at the thought of another maze.

  He let me go first, the mobile structure sounding quiet and feeling still. We must be the only ones out here.

  Putting my hands out like I did with the fountain this morning, I touched the plastic panels on both sides, hearing them shake as we both walked inside and began down a path. The walls ended here and there, showing me how the maze diverted into different trails, and I stepped quietly in my Chucks, smiling about how silent I could be and getting an idea.

  “Marco,” I called.

  After a moment, he answered behind me. “Polo.”

  I spun around, and he grabbed for me, slipping his hands up my short skirt, but I pushed them back down again, touching his face.

  “Close your eyes,” I told him, making sure his lids were closed. “Keep them closed and find me.”

  “And if I find you?”

  I grinned at his loaded tone and backed away, getting a head start.

  “You won’t,” I teased, immediately finding a diversion in the path and slipping off to the left.

  I moved slowly, careful of my steps and knocking into the plastic panels, which I assumed were clear, since it felt exactly like the funhouses I’d been in at carnivals when I was younger. He’d better not cheat. He could see me through the panels. I couldn’t see him.

  Traipsing down a path, heel to toe in soft steps, I felt the wall end, and I turned right this time, slipping through the narrow opening.

  I didn’t know if Damon was moving, but I heard his voice after a few moments. “Marco?” he called, and I heard his voice echo from off to the right.

  “Polo,” I replied, trying not to laugh.

  I crept along the path, darting into another lane and accidently hitting the toe of my shoe on a panel.

  It made a noise, rocking between its screws, and I froze, putting my hand over my mouth.

  Shit.

  His heavy footsteps made the floors creak, but since this thing was on a trailer, the whole damn floor whined, so I couldn’t gauge where the hell he was coming from.

  Until he said, “Marco?” And I gasped, hearing him right on the other side of the panel in front of me.

  I winced, squeaking, “Polo.”

  A slam hit the panels, and I jumped, knowing he knew exactly where I was and dashing away as fast as I could, not caring that I was loud and clumsy.

  “Marcooooo?” he sing-songed, hitting the panels and taunting me as he got caught up in the hunt.

  Jesus. Even blind, he was a lion.

  “Polo,” I said quickly, slipping into another avenue, unable to control my giggling.

  “Marcooooo,” he threatened from somewhere behind me.

  Oh, my God. I stepped quickly, banging my hands all over the panels and searching for my way out, but I couldn’t find it.

  Where is it?

  “Marco!” he called again.

  Where is it? Where is it? I searched, flailing my hands and patting the walls.

  Finding an opening, I slid through, relief washing over me and finally answering, “Polo.”

  But then he was there, snatching me up and wrapping his arms around me. I screamed.

  “What’s my prize?” he teased in my ear.

  I shook, caught between laughing and fighting to breathe.

  “What do you want?” I shot back.

  “A piece of clothing.”

  I shook my head, but he pushed me back against one of the plastic walls and knelt down, reaching under my skirt and peeling my panties off. He pulled them down my legs, the rough fabric of the plaid skirt now rubbing against my sensitive skin, and lifted up my feet, sliding the underwear off.

  The cool air caressed me, and being bare and exposed made me extra aware and crave him even more. I started to run, but he caught me and pushed me back again, lifting my knee and pressing it back against the wall at my side, opening me up for his mouth as he came down on me, sucking on my clit.

  Fireworks went off in my thighs and belly, spreading down my legs as I gasped and whimpered.

  “Damon…” I half-moaned and half-protested. He couldn’t do this to me here.

  But God, it felt so good. He kissed and massaged it with his tongue, and I tipped my head back, unable to not groan, and I didn’t care who heard me.

  I finally pulled away, stumbling off to the side, and I heard him breathing hard.

  “Marco,” I panted, digging my nails into the walls.

  “Polo,” he growled back.

  I stepped backward more. “Marco.”

  “Polo.”

  “Marc—”

  But he grabbed me by my necktie and yanked me into his body.

  I sucked in a breath, slamming into him.

  He got in my face, still holding me by my tie and asking, “What do I get now?”

  “You cheated,” I argued. “You opened your eyes.”

  There was no way he would’ve found me that fast.

  But he ignored my protest. “I want your bra.”

  Cute. I’d have to take off my shirt, then, too. Clever.

  But I was way ahead of him. “I’m not wearing one.”

  He exhaled hard, wrapping an arm around me and walking us backward, deeper into the maze.

  Setting me down, he forced me back up to a wall and ripped open my white uniform blouse, the night air hitting my bare skin as the buttons flew, hitting the walls and floor.

  He pressed his body into mine, reaching under and lifting my leg to nudge himself between my thighs. “Winter,” he murmured.

  I kissed him, caressing his tongue with mine, and letting him know, with every breath, moan, and rub of my hips that I wanted him right now.

  He slid his hand farther under my skirt, and I held his bottom lip between my teeth, as I reached down and slid my hand inside his jeans.

  I too
k his cock in my hand, hard and hot muscle filling my fist, and I started stroking him, making it harder and harder.

  “Now,” I breathed out. “I want you now, Damon.”

  He sucked in air between his teeth. “Say that again. With my name.”

  “I want you now, Damon.”

  He lost it. He gripped my jaw, sinking his mouth into mine for a hard, rough kiss, and then he pulled away to unfasten his belt and jeans while still holding me against the wall.

  I leaned back, my shirt ripped open but my tie still hanging from my neck down the center of my chest. I felt him pull his cock out, fit himself at my entrance as I held onto his shoulders, and thrust his hips, pushing himself deep inside me.

  Yes.

  He hauled me up into his arms, my legs circling his waist as he propped me up against the wall, and I tipped my head back, moaning as he pumped his hips into me again and again. His cock slid out and back in, deep and fast, his hips pounding between my legs and making the whole funhouse shake. I brought my head back down, forehead to forehead as he fucked me, starting to roll my hips in little movements, meeting his thrusts.

  “Yeah,” I whimpered. “You feel so good.”

  “Winter,” he said like a prayer, and I could hear the pleasure-pain in his voice.

  I kissed him again, dying to feel his skin and have all these clothes off, but there was no way I could stop.

  We heard a throat clear off somewhere near, and I hid my face on the other side of Damon’s, mortified even as need built deep inside me.

  Please, no.

  But Damon wouldn’t stop. He just kept riding me, rolling his hips into my body, the rhythm and pace staying steady.

  “Sir, your father is calling, demanding to speak to you,” Mr. Crane said.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting to tell Damon to stop, but my orgasm was coming, and all I could do was hold on.

  “Watch the door,” he bit out to Crane. “No one comes in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His father must be pissed if Crane came in here to bear witness to this. Shit.

  Damon held my face with one hand, my body with the other, and my eyes started to tear up, feeling him drive deep and fill me up. And then it was coming.

  “Damon,” I whimpered, my chest caving again and again.

  “Say it again,” he growled.