Page 87 of Dean's Delinquent

Goosebumps explode over my skin as a slight breeze ruffles my hair and causes the old swings to creak. I just need to find him, tell him we’re through, and leave. I repeat that through my brain as I traverse the overgrown paths and go deeper into the park.

“Caldwell?” My voice echoes back to me, setting my nerves on edge.

Something doesn’t feel right. Shouldn’t I have seen him by now? It’s not like the fairground is all that big. Most of it is inaccessible now, making an already small spot even smaller.

My gaze darts about as I look in and amongst the bushes and leaves, trying to see if maybe he’s just blending in. But I see nothing. Fuck this.

“I don’t have time for games. You wanted to talk to me. So talk.”

Again, nothing. It’s like my own personal horror movie, and I refuse to end up dead or worse. Turning back toward my car, I keep my eyes and ears open. Now, more than anything, I wish I told my dean where I was going.

My fingers shake so hard I nearly drop the phone. One bar. One bar is good. I can at least call 911 with one bar.

As I go to message the dean, a shadow darts behind me, drawing a squeal from my lips as I whirl around to face whatever this is head on.

Nothing.

Off in the distance, an old sign rocks back and forth in the wind. Maybe that’s what I saw? The ominous creek groans in my ear as I watch it for a moment, desperate to convince myself that’s all it is.

I don’t believe in ghosts, but I sure as hell believe in demons. Of all the monsters out there, humans are the worst, and that’s because they know what they’re doing. Animals kill on instinct, but humans enjoy the hunt. They revel in the suffering.

As I turn again to go to my car, a snap draws my attention. Before I can turn and see who or what it is, pain explodes in the back of my skull. Everything wavers for a moment as blackness encroaches. My stomach flips as if I’m careening down a steep roller coaster.

But that’s absurd.

I can’t ride the rides here.

They no longer work.

They’re abandoned.

Decrepit.

Broken.

Bits of rock and dirt bite into my knees as I collapse to the ground, but I barely feel it. All I can feel is the throbbing pain in my head and bile rising in my throat. Is it Caldwell? Is he safe?

“So happy you’re able to join us, Miss Hartwell.”

ChapterThirty-Five

Dean Anderson

The meeting drudges on as I sit there, taking in more information than I can ever need or want in a lifetime. Shifting in my chair, I do my best to seem interested, but all I want to do is go back to the dorm and fuck Ashleigh. As the chairman continues, I pull up the camera and turn it on.

If my little submissive is doing what she’s supposed to do, then she’ll be studying. Maybe I’ll catch her doing something naughty I can punish her for. My cock twitches as I wait for the screen to load. I’ve got it bad, but for some reason, I don’t seem to care anymore.

As the image clears, I sit forward, excitement zipping down my spine. Only, she’s not there. Her books lie open on the bed, but she’s not in the room. Maybe she’s in the bathroom. Nope. Not there either.

My brows furrow as I glance at the time. Normally we eat together, and it’s not time yet for dinner. She’s probably off in the journalism lab. Usually when I can’t find her, that’s where she is. A soft smile tilts up my lips as I turn off the image and force myself to concentrate.

My little snoop will certainly go far. I just hope I can convince her to stay with me as she reaches for the stars.

* * *

My shoulders ache as I press my thumb to the doorknob and open up her room. As much as I want to spend the night fucking my submissive, part of me just wants to hold her in my arms as we watch something stupid on tv and feed each other. A nice night in. Sounds divine.

As I step into the room, my heart clenches. The books are still where they were earlier, but there’s no sign of Ashleigh. This isn’t like her. She knows when to expect me. She’s never just not here. Not without telling me.

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