Page 155 of Hockey Halloween
In my periphery, there’s another flash of the blue jacket, which lights up my insides like I imagine a red flag does to a bull, I grab another drink—a red one this time with a lifeless eyeball floating on the top of it—and stride off to confront the man who needs to be brought down a peg or two.
I find him sitting in a row of chairs. He’s flanked by two friends, and they’re engaged in conversation. To be honest, I don’t care if the whole house sees me give him a dressing down. New town, new me. And this Lilith Radcliffe can be whoever the fuck she wants to be. Right now, she wants to be brave.
I stop in front of him and point at his chest. “You owe me an apology.”
He pulls his gaze from the space at his feet and moves it to my body. Starting at the tips of my shiny, black shoes his appraising gaze slowly moves up every inch of my body, blazing a trail of heat as he stares. It’s a lazy assessment, deliberate, measured, and patient. There’s a serious ‘fuck off’ vibe coming from his body, but I won’t be deterred.
Athena appears to my right. “Everything okay here?”
As I turn to her, my drink sloshes over the side of my glass but I’m too wound up to care. I put my free hand on my hip and pop my knee before tossing a hand toward the Beast. I have no ideawhat he looks like under the mask, but I know he’s an imposing colossus of a man.
“Mr. Beast here owes me an apology.”
The man in question grunts but doesn’t move.
Pirate Queen Athena’s lip quirks, curious questioning lighting up her eyes as she holds up her hands, one covered by a plastic hook. She backs away as though she has no interest in getting between the two of us.
“Well?” I demand of the behemoth. “What do you have to say for yourself?” I tap my foot to signal my impatience, only too aware of the number of eyes currently watching the exchange.
I take it back. I do care if everyone in the world is watching it.
The beast grips the armrests on the chair and pushes to standing. He takes his time, unfurling his oversized body from the seat and straightening his back. I have to crane my neck to look up at him now.
Shit on a stick, he’s a big man.
He tries to palm the back of his neck but is stalled out by the plastic mask covering his head. “I have no idea who you are or why you think I owe you an apology. You must have the wrong man.”
Oh. No, sir, you do not. This isn’t a case ofmybeing mistaken about the identity of the person who wronged me.
The heated blood in my veins changes from a simmer to a boil. I clutch the glass with the floating eyeball in a white-knuckle grip, suck in a steadying deep breath, and toss its contents right at the beast.
Mason
The woman in front of me not only looks like a deranged clown, but she’s fucking unhinged. Despite a massive plastic head covering my own, she still chucked a drink at me, knowing full well I probably wouldn’t get very wet. I guess she needed to make a very public statement.
Everyone is looking at us.
The eyeball that was floating in the drink slams onto the floor between us in a goopy splat, as though punctuating her action with dramatic flair.
“Fucking hell, Mac. What did you do to her?”
Fuck if I know. I’ve never seen this woman before in my life. But somehow, I’ve managed to offend her enough to make her mad. Really mad. There’s a wild glint in her golden, amber eyes. Is she wearing colored contacts? I’ve never seen eyes so… animalistic.
Her face is painted white, with red lines spreading from either corner of her mouth, up her cheeks, and spearing through her eyebrows almost to her hairline.
Trying not to look. But I can’t help it. Her tits areright there. Her Pennywise costume is less scary, more fucking sensational. Theordinary gray dress nips in at her waist, two red buttons calling even more attention to her pushed up cleavage.
The skirt part is puffed out with some creamy, frilly underlayer thing that brings attention to the fact it doesn’t even kiss her knees. It maybe settles mid-thigh length, and her over-the-knee grey socks with red stitching, are held up by suspenders.
Fucking hell. She’s sin dressed as an unsettling horror character.
She’s got the wild, red hair down pat, and while she’s not terrifying, nightmarish, or menacing in any way, she’s paralyzing, haunting, inescapable. She makes my spine tingle. My blood isn’t curdling, but it’s definitely lit up with an energy it didn’t have a few moments ago.
My dick has entered the chat, perking up at the sight of a beautiful fucking woman. Make up and costume be damned. Those curves are wicked, those lips full and pouty, and her chest heaves with heavy breathing as she waits for me to react. I can’t take my eyes off her full and barely contained breasts.
A snap of her fingers in front of my eyes tells me she’s noticed I’m distracted. Hopefully my massive Beast head has prevented her from seeing exactly where my attention is.
She’s at least a foot shorter than me, but she’s rooted her feet, planted her hands on her hips, and her chin juts out telling me she’s not afraid of me. I don’t think she’s afraid of anything. She’s fearless, fierce, and fucking furious. It’s a heady combination.
