DADDY?

ANGEL

Fall season meant one thing for a university student like me: Halloween break.

No more lectures.

No more grumpy professors.

No more sleepless nights hunched over assignments.

Just two weeks of freedom—and maybe, if Sophia had her way, two weeks of trouble.

“Bitch, come on! Enjoy your Halloween break. You can’t seriously spend it sleeping on your mom’s couch, watching TV,” Sophia groaned, her scowl making her look more dramatic than usual.

“I haven’t seen her in a year, Sophia. I might as well visit and be a good daughter,” I tried to reason, but reasoning with Sophia was like arguing with a brick wall.

“Well, she’s not going anywhere! You can visit at Christmas. But Florida? The Fright event? We can’t miss that! Come on, please? Pretty please?” she begged, eyes wide with excitement. “You know I’ve been dying to go.”

She’d been going on and on about this event for a month. Talking about the fairgrounds and how much I’d love it. She even made—no, forced—me to save up money for it.

She loved all things spooky and haunted. Hell, she once brought a supposedly haunted doll into our dorm room and tried to exorcize it. Let’s just say she got scammed—the doll was never haunted, and I didn’t let her live it down for two months.

“You know your name doesn’t suit your personality at all, right?” I teased. “Are you sure the nurses didn’t accidentally send you home with the wrong family?”

She never liked her name, never quite fit in with her family. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear she was adopted.

“Don’t change the subject, Angel! You’re coming.” Her voice left no room for argument.

“Am I?” I smirked, wiggling my brows.

“Eww, stop, you dirty freak,” she laughed, slapping my arm, cheeks burning red.

Someone didn’t like dirty jokes.

“Fine. I’ll call my mom. No one can stop you from getting what you want, can they?” I groaned, falling back into bed.

“Many tried. None succeeded,” she said smugly, a victorious smile brightening her face.

The weather was a bit chilly. Not as cold as winter or the end of fall, but enough to raise goosebumps along my skin.

“Oh my god! Look at these,” Sophia said, looking around the fairgrounds like a kid who’d just walked into a candy store for the first time.

Two days after our last conversation about The Fright event, there we were.

The tension in the air was thick—like stepping into a real-life horror movie. Everything was dark, and everyone was dressed up as horror movie characters.

Spooky-looking pumpkins were everywhere. Fake mist filled the air, fake cemeteries lining the paths. Workers roamed the grounds holding chainsaws, knives, and swords, doing a disturbingly good job of turning the place into a living nightmare.

The lights.

The music humming in the background.

Even the decorations around us.

Everything worked together to set the perfect Halloween atmosphere.

I caught Sophia staring—almost drooling—over a group of shirtless men working for the event team.

“Sophia, you’re staring. That’s not very polite,” I said, amused.

“Pfft. I’m appreciating the view,” she replied, not budging or cutting her creepy stare.

“What? They’re just a bunch of muscular, half-naked men wearing masks.” I shook my head, taking a sip from the cola can in my hand.

“Just men?” She scoffed. “Holy shit, they’re so hot. I could watch them all day. Look at those six-packs. I can imagine myself licking them up. They make me want to be their partner in crime—even if it’s my own murder,” she sighed dreamily.

“Dear Lord… you need to get laid.”

“I do get laid, thank you very much,” she huffed.

“By whom? Your imaginary freaky ghost?” I teased.

She looked me up and down with a pout. “I hate you.”

“I love you too,” I smirked. “Wanna go to the House of Horrors over there?” I added, deliberately changing the subject and pulling her attention away from the eye candy.

“Hells yeah!” she yelled.

She didn’t even wait for me to follow—she was already halfway to the entrance.

I guess someone was excited.

“I don’t think I like this house of horrors,” she muttered, gripping my arm tightly as we stepped inside.

“For someone who was acting brave and fearless a few minutes ago, you look like a frightened little bunny,” I teased as we walked deeper inside. The smell of old dust filled the air. “I thought you liked spooky places?”

“I am not scared. I simply don’t—AAA!”

She screamed when a zombie toy jumped in her face.

Then she took off running, letting go of my arm. Her screams echoed through the house as she disappeared.

I stood there, dumbfounded.

After a few seconds, I went after her—but it only made things worse. Now, I was lost inside the house too.

“I swear to God, Sophia, I’ll kill you,” I muttered as I wandered through the dimly lit halls. “I could’ve been watching a comedy movie, eating popcorn, or drinking hot chocolate right now.”

The air grew colder. The silence became deafening.

Distant laughs and screams echoed around me, but I couldn’t tell if they belonged to real people or part of the attraction.

The lights flickered.

A clown toy jumped into my face, sending my heart skyrocketing. Another scream sounded nearby, and my pulse raced even faster.

Okay. Maybe it was a little spookier now that I was all alone.

Where the hell was Sophia?

I quickened my steps, desperate to get out. I checked one room—nothing.

Another.

Still no Sophia.

I entered yet another room, and that was when I felt it.

The sensation of being watched.

I quickly glanced down the hallway. Empty.

I scanned the room itself—only a cluster of creepy, human-sized dolls staring back at me.

“It’s all in your head, Angel. Stop being delusional,” I scolded myself as a shiver ran down my spine.

I continued down the hallway.

Then—it happened again.

I stood in the doorway of yet another room, goosebumps erupting all over my body. The feeling intensified, crawling beneath my skin.

I urged myself to step inside. To ignore it.

But once I did, I couldn’t deny it anymore.

I looked over my shoulder.

And this time…

this time…

There he was.

The source of my anxiety.

Standing tall. Watching me.

His broad shoulders blocked the doorway.

He didn’t move a muscle. His chest rose and fell with each inhale and exhale. Blood smeared his scream ghost mask, his bare chest, his big hands—and the knife glinting in his grip.

I knew it was fake blood, but my own ran cold anyway.

His tall frame and long dark hair exuded darkness.

A darkness that made every instinct scream at me to run—yet my body stayed frozen, betraying me.

“Now. Now! Talking to ourselves, little Angel?” he said, his voice deep and husky. He twisted the knife between his fingers, the blade catching the dim light.

A real knife.

I suppressed a shiver as fear crawled up my spine, ready to sink its teeth into me at any moment.

Was it a sick coincidence… or did he just say my name?

My eyes locked on his mask as he crept closer, the wooden floor creaking beneath his boots. His body towered over mine, making me feel impossibly small. He tilted his head, studying me like a predator ready to launch at its prey.

My mouth couldn’t form a sentence. My body trembled violently, like a little mouse trapped with nowhere to run.

“You smell so divine,” he murmured, inhaling deeply at my neck. “Like a sweet little sin.”

My breath hitched when his mask brushed my cheek.

“W-who are you? What do you want?” I forced out, putting on a brave face. With the knife in his hand, I didn’t dare make any sudden moves.

He inhaled slowly and pressed closer, his body heat radiating against mine.

“I want to unwrap you, nice and slow, little Angel,” he purred, his voice dripping with dark promises. “See what’s underneath all these fabrics.”

He tilted my chin up with the tip of his knife, then slowly dragged it down my temple. It caressed my cheek before resting gently against my bottom lip.

“M-mommy told me strangers are dangerous,” I stammered. “So I’d really appreciate my p-personal space. T-thank you very much.”

I stepped back—and hit the wall.

One of my bad traits was joking my way out of uncomfortable situations—sadness, heartbreak, tension. Apparently fear too. That was how I coped: sarcasm.

His lips twitched. A smirk peeked from beneath his mask.

“Oh, I know all about danger, little Angel,” he murmured. “And I assure you, I’m the least of your worries tonight.”

On cue, screams and heavy footsteps thundered through the hallway.

In one swift movement, he lowered the knife and grabbed my wrist, dragging me into a hidden corner. My front pressed against the wall, his body flush against my back. My heart slammed wildly as my senses went on high alert.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, sliding the knife just beneath my jaw. The icy edge grazed my skin.

“For your own good.”

“Please, let me go,” I pleaded, breathing hard, fear clawing through me. “I promise I won’t get you in trouble.”

I should’ve screamed. I should’ve called for help.

But the blade resting against my throat stopped me from making such a reckless move.

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, sweet little Angel… the way you shake for me—it feeds my hunger.”

I tried to push him away, but his grip tightened. With one hand, he pulled my wrists behind my back, pressing me harder against the wall with his body.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered, leaning down. “You’re only making me more excited.”

His mask nuzzled my face, his breath hot against my skin.

I caught the scent of his cologne—woody, masculine, mixed with something else I couldn’t place. Something strange. Otherworldly.

A group of clowns burst into the room. I couldn’t see them clearly, only heard their eerie laughter as they chased someone through. Then they were gone, as quickly as they’d come.

He released my wrists, caging me against the wall with his arms braced on either side of my head.

I turned to face him, shaking—not just with fear, but with something else I couldn’t name.

“This isn’t part of your job,” I said, finding a sliver of courage as I pushed against his chest. He didn’t budge. “I can report you to the manager.”

“Manager at your service, sweet little Angel.” He smirked, gripping my chin. “Go on. What’s your complaint?”

I fell silent. I had no idea what to say.

“If I let you go,” he continued calmly, “those clowns would find you. And trust me—you wouldn’t want that.” His mask hovered a breath away from my face. “I just saved you a lot of trouble.”

“Let. Me. Go.” I dug my nails into his hand, trying to pull it away.

In a blink, his fist tangled in my hair. He tugged just enough to sting—to remind me who was in control.

“Ah-ah. The game just began,” he warned softly, giving my hair another deliberate pull.

My instincts exploded into action. I drove my knee into his groin.

He staggered back with a grunt—but my victory was short-lived.

Before I could run, he recovered and yanked me back by the hair. This time, it hurt like hell.

I winced, fire igniting across my scalp. My heart pounded with dread of what was coming next.

“Careful, Angel,” he said lowly. “My patience is wearing thin—and the more you fight, the more excited I get.”

In one swift motion, he spun me around and pinned me face-first against the wall. Dust filled my mouth.

He pressed his unmistakable arousal against my ass. A whimper escaped me at the roughness of his grip.

I knew better than to fight again.

“What if I want you to be more excited?” I whispered, trying to deceive him—trying to make him slip.

He groaned, gripping my wrists and pinning them behind my back. “Keep talking like that, and I might just devour you against this fucking wall, Angel.”

His scent surrounded me.

“What’s so dangerous about these clowns anyway?” I asked, forcing my focus away from his body, his hips pressed firmly against mine.

I tried to calm my racing thoughts. Push fear aside. Think.

Wait for him to let his guard down. Push him. Run.

Perfect plan.

Or so I hoped.

His grip tightened. His hips pressed harder. I felt him twitch against me.

“This is just a taste of what’s to come,” he murmured. “Keep playing with fire, Angel.”

He inhaled my scent one last time before stepping back, releasing my wrists. Turning me around, he tilted his masked face down to mine.

“They were hunting for their next prey,” he said casually.

“What do you mean?” I whispered, my mind spiraling.

“Oh, little Angel… you’re so innocent.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry. They were just looking for their next consensual fuck-toy. They like to fuck in groups.”

I spotted an opening. A chance to shove him and run.

Not yet.

He wasn’t fully relaxed. He could still catch me.

“How is that dangerous?” I asked stubbornly. “What if I like group sex?”

I played the role, even though I knew I never could like group sex.

I hated how easily he assumed he knew me—what I wanted, what I liked as if we were old buddies.

“Naive little Angel.” He shook his head, possibly amused by my stupidity. “They like to draw blood. I doubt you’d enjoy having your skin cut open.”

He studied my face carefully.

“And I don’t like competition,” he added quietly. “Especially when it comes to my little prey.”

A shiver ran through me.

His hand cupped my jaw, his thumb tugging gently at my bottom lip. His other hand wrapped around my throat—big, dominant.

“I think you’re awfully full of yourself,” I muttered.

“Your heart is racing,” he said softly. “I can feel it.”

He dropped his hand from my face, took my wrist, and pressed it to his chest. I swallowed hard, fear tangling with something dangerously close to excitement.

“Mine too,” he murmured sensually. “It’s thrilled I finally caught you.”

My breath caught.

“And what else beats for me?” I asked, summoning every ounce of false confidence as my gaze dropped to his erection.

He inhaled sharply. His body shuddered.

Unexpected question.

“Careful, Angel,” he warned—yet pressed closer, letting me feel the hard bulge straining against his dark sweatpants.

A sinful moan slipped from my lips.

Fuck.

Wrong time. Wrong place, Angel.

But my body didn’t listen.

Butterflies churned violently. Heat pooled between my thighs.

I was all over the place. There was no denying it—he affected me.

How couldn’t he?

He was temptation in human form, whispering every forbidden thing a woman wanted to hear before getting fucked.

I pressed my thighs together, pretending it was fear.

It wasn’t.

I was aching to know how far he’d go.

I felt like a bitch in heat, but I couldn’t help it.

He groaned, his erection throbbing against my hip. “Fuck, Angel. You’re going to be the death of me.”

Abruptly, he spun me around, bent me over a nearby table, and pressed my head down by my hair.

I gasped, my heart racing—not with terror, but excitement.

An excitement I had no right to feel.

“Please—”

I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

To be touched? To Escape? For him to Ruin me right there and then?

All of it?

He ground against me, one hand sliding up my body to close around my throat. “Don’t beg,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

His mask covered only the top half of his face now as he nipped my ear.

“You want to know what else beats for you, Angel?”

His grip tightened around my throat.

I nodded, a whimper slipping free. My body was bewitched; it moved on its own. Fear and desire tangled beyond separation.

For a moment, I forgot my escape plan.

What the fuck are you doing, Angel?

He’s dangerous. A stranger.

He chuckled, rocking his hips against me slowly. “Open your mouth,” he ordered softly. “Stick your tongue out for me.”

Distract him.

That was the plan.

But I did it, I opened my mouth—telling myself it was just a trick.

A lie.

I should’ve run.

But I didn’t want to.

Not when our bodies were pressed like that.

Not when every nerve in my body burned for him.

Just a little more. Just a taste.

He groaned approvingly. “Good girl.”

Slowly, he lifted his mask, revealing a sharp jaw and full lips.

“Don’t ever forget how I taste,” he whispered.

His breath washed over my tongue before his mouth met mine—one slow lick turned into sucking my lips and tongue hungerly. His teeth grazed my lip as he pulled back, a thin string of saliva stretching between us.

Grinning, he lifted me onto the table, spreading my thighs as he stepped between them.

“If I fucked you right now,” he murmured darkly, “no one would come. They’d think you were screaming over some stupid toy—not because I’m filling you up.”

His hands slid up my thighs, my skirt riding higher.

Fear was gone.

Only heat remained.

“Can I at least know your name?” I asked quietly.

If he ruined me, I wanted to know what name to scream.

My fingers slid toward his mask—then froze.

Was it wrong to want a masked stranger?

He smirked—and without warning, his thumb circled my clit through my panties, his fingers sliding along my soaked slit.

“Let’s not ruin our fun with chatter,” he muttered, watching me unravel beneath his touch.

He slowly assaulted my sensitive opening, so, very deliciously.

“So wet and ready for me,” he growled. “Who would’ve thought a little Angel liked being chased and fucked like an animal?”

Right when I was about to shatter—he stopped.

I moaned in protest.

I hated how he made me feel.

Wanted. Watched. Ruined.

God help me—I wanted more.

“So needy,” he teased, fisting my hair and arching my neck back. “Aren’t you, Angel?”

My breath hitched.

“The things I crave doing to you…” he murmured. “I’ve watched you all night, sticking by your weird friend's side —so innocent, so oblivious. So easy to hunt.”

He groaned and that sound alone was nearly enough for me to come undone...

If he wanted to play predator—

I’d play prey.

But not the helpless kind.

Tonight?

I’d make it hell on earth.