Page 37 of The Masked King

I walk through the door and enter the dark corridor where the light above Venus’s door is green. The goodbye sounded final, almost as if she knows we won’t be meeting again. Why? Because I ask too many questions, or because she dared to answer them?

It’s still niggling away at me when I pass several red lights and find myself standing outside the room with the name NYX on the door.

The light is green.

Nyx is here, and no one is with her.

My heart is hammering inside my chest when I open the door and step inside. Her perfume reaches me almost instantly, and adrenaline pumps through my veins.

“Hello, Brian.”

Excitement battles with the disappointment I felt over the last three nights, standing outside that door and seeing the red light.

“Did you miss me?” I ask.

The silence stretches beyond a couple of beats. Then, “Did you want me to miss you?”

The game is back on, but my excitement is holding fire for now, unsettled by the conversation with Ms. Flashlight in the foyer. I could come clean, tell her that I was here every night, that I wasn’t allowed to wait around for the green light, but something is stopping me.

If you want more, it can be arranged.

Was that supposed to entice me away from Nyx? Is every fucker playing a part in the same game, and I’m the only one here without a clue what’s going on?

If I want mind games, I can spend twenty-four hours in the company of my sister. She’d love this place. She’d have them tied up in knots by the end of the first evening; they’d probably pay her not to return.

“Was that part of the game, Nyx? Keeping me waiting?”

“I…” She hesitates. “Yes. It was part of the game. Did it work?”

Something has shifted. She was about to say one thing but changed her mind and said yes instead.

“Depends on the outcome you were hoping for.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

No. This doesn’t feel right. I can’t put my finger on it, but she sounds… different.

“I’m sitting on my hands, Nyx. I want you to come closer.”

I understand now that everything we do and say in here is monitored, so I sit on my hands to prove to the assholes behind their screens that I’m not here to break the golden rule.

I hear the faint rustle of clothing and breathe in her perfume.

“Close enough?”

It’s Nyx. But a more somber version of the woman who made herself come for me because I asked her to. Her self-confidence is gone. The real Nyx is hanging out in the background while her echo does the talking.

I want to ask her what happened, but that’s a direct route to getting my ass hauled out of here and reacquainting myself with the external wall of the building next door.

“What are you wearing for me tonight?”

“For you?” I get the faintest hint of a smile behind the question, but it doesn’t make me feel any less uneasy. “I kept it simple. Why don’t you guess?”

I think about how I envisioned her the first time. Blonde hair, white underwear, understated but still fucking sexy.

“You’re wearing white panties trimmed with lace, and a white tank. There’s a gap between them, revealing your toned stomach and a transparent gem in your belly button. Some might say you’ve dressed for comfort over commercialized sex appeal, but that’s because you don’t need to dress it up.” I swallow hard, my erection growing inside my pants.

“Close.” A hint of the real Nyx is shining through.