Theirs to Chase

Chapter 3

Eveline

Present day

“Fuck, that’s creepy as hell,” one of the influencers from the row before us exclaims, as his friends chuckle alongside him.

I feel like doing anything but laughing; that terrible horror of being watched has come over me once again, and I feel like I’m a lamb waiting for slaughter. Nadia touches my shoulder, making my soul fly out of my skin.

“Are you okay?” she asks, seeing as my face has probably drained of all color.

“Yeah, of course,” I smile at her.

The light suddenly returns, and the cart starts moving forward with a slowed speed, up for a roller coaster hill that will later drop us down. My stomach surges with nerves as we near the drop, before thundering down, the sound all too loud in my ears. Soon after, the cart weaves through the loop going upside down. I close my eyes shut, visions of the car tumbling over the bridge haunting my mind until it feels as if I will puke.

The ride is over within two minutes, but it felt like the longest minutes of my life.

Trembling, I get off the seat, focusing on steadying myself.

“Haunted house next?” I suggest, hoping to avoid another of the roller coasters.

“Yes!” Nadia shouts, excitedly skipping toward where the haunted house lies on the other side of the park.

It’s enormous, with decorations littered everywhere. My eyes catch on another skeleton with a pumpkin mask, sending a twitch of unease through me.

Outside the horror house, they’ve made a graveyard-like location, with old tombstones covered in cobwebs sticking out of the ground, and hands sticking up like zombies. We enter the lane to queue, although no one is before us since it’s a closed event. Surrounded by a gilded cage, old chairs and a table are set, with a hauntingly old tea setup. One of the chairs is overturned.

“Welcome!” A shrill voice startles me until I notice it’s an automatic voice coming from the bushes—I can see the speaker hiding amongst makeshift leaves and blood.

I trail after the others as they enter the haunted house, my heart thudding against my ribs like a caged animal. A chill creeps up my spine as my gut twists in a visceral warning echoing in the pit of my stomach, but I push the instinct aside.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Entering, the first thing we see is creepy dolls moving. Nadia shrieks as she clings to Max’s hand. My entire body is prepared for a jump scare to come any second. A loud bang has us all jolting as a robotic clown bangs on his cage, a sinister laugh following.

Nadia screams and runs ahead, pushing Max out of the way to scramble forward. He laughs at her, and jokingly chases her forward, which has her screaming even louder, the noise rattling my ears, until it’s only me and Elias left. He’s still holding on to the pen and paper, trying to write in the darkness.

“You know you don’t have to write everything down,” I offer him gently.

“It helps me relax—this place is too creepy.”

Yep, too freaking soft for me.

“Come on,” I tell him as we go through the haunted house, following Nadia’s screams and laughter.

A nervous breath escapes Elias as he turns around, eyes wide with terror. “Did you see that scare actor in the wardrobe? He was fucking terrifying.”

“What actor? There are only dolls there.”

He doesn’t say anything as I continue forward, expecting him to follow me.

Lights flicker on and off as I follow the path, venturing into a room where a butcher laughs maniacally, holding up a fake piece of flesh dripping with blood. I jump, adrenaline surging, as the scare registers. Despite the momentary fright, I keep moving, enjoying the exhilarating rush of the haunted house. This is much better than the roller coaster flipping me upside down.

As I follow the sound of laughter, I realize it’s not Nadia’s laughter anymore, but a speaker crackling with intensity. It feels as if a bucket of cold water washes over me when I realize I’m all alone. Suddenly, the thrill of being in here isn’t as exhilarating anymore, and my senses prickle with awareness.

A ghost of a touch slides over me, and I shriek, before I’m pushed up against the wall with a harsh thud, expecting it to be Elias.

But it’s not.

My eyes widen as I spot a white tailored shirt with a black tie. Needles jab at my skin from terror as I stare into the same pumpkin mask I saw last year at the cornfield. I shake my head, willing away the vision before me—this is a sick, twisted joke.

But when I look again, he’s still standing there.

As ominous as ever. His stance radiates power and dominance, his height towering—nearly ten inches above my five-five—makes me an easy prey for whatever he wishes. Anticipation pulses through my veins at the thought of punching him and running.

Would he chase me?

The thought alone heats something deep within me that shouldn’t be stirred.

The words wanting to come forth get clogged up in my throat, leaving me staring at him in tense silence. I thought there were no scare actors left—yet here he stands.

“Scared, little pumpkin?” the voice whispers in my ear, too close for my comfort.

My heart exhilarates, speeding like a car on a freeway. It’s his voice—the mysterious man from one year ago. What the fuck is he doing here?

I do the only thing I can come up with—I push him out of the way, punching him in the face with a bad right hook, but he scrambles backward. Then, I run as fast as I can.

No longer is this a fun experience—it fucking haunts me, and it feels as if I’m running for my life.

I enter another room, this one decorated like a child’s, with teddy bears and dolls scattered all around. The walls are tattered, and only a single lamp in the corner illuminates the space. I can’t breathe, the terror takes over all rational senses.

No one is behind me when I look around, and I can’t hear anything but my own loud breaths. Did I imagine him? Fucking hell .

I continue walking through the room, seeing a teddy bear lying on the floor, all bloodied. I inspect it closer, it looks eerily much like real blood. This amusement park has topped it up to the next level.

My breath hitches when something moves in my periphery—a looming shadow, coming closer.

“Little pumpkin.”

I scramble to flee the room, but the door before me closes with a loud thud. He’s onto me now, and I let out a hoarse scream of terror, wanting to alert the others.

“No one will hear you,” he taunts, and I loathe myself for finding his voice the deepest, hottest fucking sound I’ve heard.

I realize how stupid I was for running, giving in to the chase, and giving him exactly what he wanted.

He tilts his head to the side, that pumpkin mask cruel and taunting, as he takes a step closer. I stand my ground, knowing this isn’t fucking real. How could it be?

But his touch on me as he caresses my throat with a serrated blade feels so real—it’s just a prop, right?

My chest heaves, which catches his attention because his face lowers, seemingly taking in my appearance through the mask. The long-sleeved, knitted black dress I’m wearing has slipped down to reveal the edge of my bra. He leans in closer, appearing to inhale the scent of my hair, its predominantly dark shade contrasting with the distinct platinum highlights. His gaze drifts from my silvery nostril piercing, done just a few months ago, to my hazel-green eyes, where the brown dominates.

I feel his heat through the mask, even as he stays quiet.

One hand—the one gripping the knife—pushes my waist into the wooden wall behind me, holding on to my flesh through the dress, while his other caresses my throat, dangerously close to stealing my oxygen. It’s then that I notice the tattoos adorning the hand holding my throat, an intricate design of sharp, intertwining lines and curves, like branches of thorny vines. The black ink starkly contrasts with his pale skin, wrapping around his knuckles and veins, leading up to a carved, cute pumpkin with a knife poking through it. A cold chill snakes down my spine at the unexpectant sight.

“Do you like what you see?” I can feel his smirk through his voice. “I got it just for you.”

“Y-you’re insane,” I whisper.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you once—you’ve corrupted my mind and soul.”

I shouldn’t like this as much as I do, but I fucking crave that depraved danger I’ve sought since that night. Heat pools between my thighs from the chase, embarrassingly so.

I lock my gaze with the dark voids of the mask’s eyes, daring him to do anything about this. He can’t be real, yet his touch is undeniable. It’s even more real when he lifts my dress, hiking it up to my waist, and trails the knife along my thigh, eliciting a gasp from me that makes me shudder.

His fingers pull down my tights, tracing to the edge of my panties. He moves the underwear aside, giving him enough room to cup my already slick heat.

“Is it this easy to turn you on, little pumpkin? Though I should have known. You so easily submitted last year.”

His voice soothes my soul like a comforting blanket or a glass of red wine, making me all dizzy as I crave more. I should really fucking run, but he’s making it hard. His finger teases my folds, and I instantly buck against his touch. I whimper as one of his fingers touches my clit. His pumpkin mask is eerily creepy in the darkness inside the room, but part of me loves the danger and arousal it offers—the mysterious aura.

“Such a beautiful little thing,” he coos, sinking two of his fingers into my warmth.

My legs tremble with desire, and my nipples stiffen underneath the fabric of my dress, as I meet the eyes of the mask, arching my spine for more pleasure. I’m blinded by the overwhelming lust taking over me.

His fingers are inside me, but he doesn’t move them, and I whimper at the loss of friction. I crave more, but his thumb merely strokes my clit. I buck my hips, seeking more, and his thumb strokes my clit that’s pulsating with need.

“Ride my fingers,” he whispers seductively, and fuck , I obey him, buckling my hips, using his hand to my liking. He’s slightly bent, accommodating to my shorter height.

I stand on my tiptoes, trying to remove his mask and see what’s beneath it, but he shakes his head.

“Doesn’t it make it all the more thrilling?” he murmurs.

I’m lost in the waves of pleasure taking over me, his deep voice filtering through my mind, etching itself there. I will never forget the dark timbres that bring me such unimaginable delight.

We’re two shadows in a corner, doing something so depraved and forbidden, as I ride his hand. The wet sounds echo through the space, adding to my already aching desire for release.

He strokes my cheek as he observes me riding his fingers, and when his thumb starts a circling motion on my swollen bud, I fall into that edge of tingling ecstasy, my entire body trembling. He holds on to me, making sure I’m observing as he lifts his mask ever so slightly, revealing a defined jawline and plump lips. He sucks on his fingers, tasting my orgasm, and my cheeks flush.

“So fucking pretty. At the end of the night, I will have you begging for more,” he reveals.

“Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back?” I ask the questions that have been plaguing my mind every day.

“I had to go away for a while…” he cryptically replies, eyes piercing through mine.

I should fucking run the other way, but he’s the one that scratches that goddamn annoying itch deep within my soul, and I can’t let him go now that I’ve found him again.

——————

I approach the exit of the haunted house, cheeks still flushed and a deep desire blooming in my core. Eros, the name he revealed as I shared mine, trails closely behind like a looming shadow. He said he was one of the influencers attending the park when he first laid eyes on me—instantly recognizing who I was.

There’s a kindred connection between us of darkness and depravity that’s hard to understand.

Worried voices drift through the surrounding area as we make our way out of the haunted house, into the eerie night outside. The wind instantly grips my hair, sending a sharp metallic tinge toward me, and I scrunch my nose.

“Where were you?” Nadia screams, eyes wide open in worry as she rushes up to me, hugging me tightly to her chest.

Her eyes take in Eros behind me, his face still covered by a mask. Suspicion glints in her eyes as she grabs my hand, leading me away from him. She’s trembling like a leaf in a storm, and I can only see Max beside her, his face a hue of ashen.

“This is him…” I explain, knowing she will know who I’m talking about “But what do you mean? I was just behind you.” I look around. “Where’s Elias?”

Nadia falls silent, her expression twisted with nausea as if she’s about to puke, and thick tears stream down her face.

That’s when I see the pool of blood on the cobblestones outside the house.

And Elias’s lifeless body in the middle of it.