Scream For Us （Holiday Masked Men #1）
Molly Doyle
Chapter 1
Jack-o-lanterns are spread out along the sidewalk and leading up to the front door. I’m hypnotized by the flickering flames behind the precisely carved faces. Cobwebs cover the bushes, neon spotlights illuminate the front entrance, and there are bloody footprints spread across the pavement beneath my heels.
Blasting music bursts through the house as I enter, along with a thick layer of smoke from a fog machine hidden beside the door, creeping its way through everyone in sight. There are people everywhere, and it seems like everyone is in costume. They weren’t kidding when they said this Salem Halloween party would go down in history.
This was a bad idea to come here alone. A cold shiver shoots down my spine at the thought. Swiftly turning on my heel to make my exit, Jenna nearly knocks me backward.
“Quinn!” she exclaims, pure vodka on her breath, as she grabs onto my arms to keep herself steady. “You’re here!”
“Somehow.”
“I had no idea you were coming,” she drunkenly babbles. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She’s probably shocked to see me at a party, instead of my typical “snuggling in bed at our sorority house, reading smut books, and avoiding social gatherings”。
“Have you seen Stacy?” she asks.
“Not yet. I just got here,” I tell her. “Sorry.”
With that, she scurries away.
Making my way down the crowded hallway and into the kitchen, loud conversations drown out the Halloween-themed music from the other rooms. Flickering candles create the perfect amount of light for me to figure out my options for booze.
Beer. More beer. Hard liquor.
Spooky Halloween party punch, it is.
“Good choice,” a voice says from behind me, before he enters my view. “Really does pack a punch.”
Snorting from his corny line, I roll my eyes. “The stronger the better,” I say, nearly overflowing my solo cup in the process. “Cool Joker makeup.”
“Thanks.” He raises an eyebrow. “What are you supposed to be?”
Glancing down at my black, corset-style bodysuit, fishnet tights, and black combat heels, I cringe. This was my last-minute effort to try to throw a costume together, except I still have no idea who or what I am.
“That’s a great question,” I sheepishly reply.
“Kevin,” someone says from across the room. “You coming with us?”
Joker looks their way and nods, before turning back to me once more. “What’s your name, again?”
“Quinn.”
“See you around, Quinn.”
The Halloween punch did in fact, pack a punch. Joker was right.
A thin film of fog creeps its way from the ground, surrounding everyone on the dance floor. Making my way to the center of the room, I sway my hips to the beat of the music, enticed by the strobe lights that seem to be coming from every direction. Lifting my arms into the air, and shutting my eyes, I submit to the new carefree feeling that rages through me.
Thank God for alcohol in social settings.
Suddenly, hands are on my waist, guiding me to the rhythm. I continue to dance, not giving any thought to the person behind me, until they slip their hands to the front of me.
Lower.
Lower.
Swatting them away, an uncomfortable feeling creeps up on me, although I pay it no mind at first. Until they grab onto me, forcing themselves against my body. Groping my breasts, trailing their hand down to my lower waist.
“Stop,” I rush out, trying to break free from their hold.
They breathe heavily against my ear. “You like it?”
“No, you creep,” I shoot back, trying to pull away.
But they’re too strong.
“No! No! Stop!”
Sloppily kissing my neck, they attempt slipping their fingers beneath the material of my corset. Finally, I break free from their grasp, bumping into several people dancing beside us. To my dismay, they ignore us entirely. My heart hammers. There are so many people. It’s so loud. The smoke is so thick, I can hardly see, let alone breathe.
Turning to face the person who would not accept no for an answer, anger and disgust consume me. He steps forward, reaching out for me again. Slamming my hands against his chest, I shove him away, and this time he gets the hint.
And it’s clear that he has taken offense to my rejection. His eyes turn dark. Cold. He becomes as still as stone. Fear settles in, and before I can even make sense of it, he’s grabbing a red solo cup from someone’s hand.
Within seconds, my upper body is drenched with beer. My jaw nearly drops as I stare at him in disbelief, horrified at the fact that he has just splashed a drink in my face.