A NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL

Room 99

A throbbing behind Alita’s eyes dragged her back to consciousness. She groaned, the taste of stale wine heavy on her tongue. As her eyes fluttered open, blinking against the harsh morning light filtering through unfamiliar sheer curtains, she froze.

The walls were the wrong color. The furniture was too dark.

"This isn't my room, is it?" she whispered to the empty space, her voice cracking.

Panic flared in her chest. She swung her legs out from under the heavy comforter to stand up, but the sudden movement caused the quilt to slip. Looking down, her breath caught in her throat. She was completely bare. Gasping, a hot blush rushing from her neck to her cheeks, she yanked the sheet back up to her chest, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.

When she tried to shift again, a sharp, aching soreness flared between her thighs. She gasped, staggering back onto the mattress as her knees gave out.

No. No, please, it can't be what I think it is.

The terrifying realization crashed over her. She had been with a man. A complete stranger. In her haze last night, she hadn't just walked into the wrong room—she had given away something precious, and she couldn't even remember his face. Horrific thoughts swirled through her mind, making her headache intensify. Who was he? What if he was dangerous? What if he was old, crippled, or sick?

Tears pricked her eyes as she frantically shook her head, trying to deny it. But the evidence was everywhere. Scattered across the plush carpet were her clothes, tangled carelessly with a man's crisp dress shirt and dark trousers. Turning her head, her heart shattered completely. There, on the pristine white bedspread, was a telling smear of crimson.

I am so dead, she mumbled, burying her face in her hands.

Suddenly, the muffled sound of running water echoed from the adjoining bathroom. The shower was on. He was still here.

Panic overrode her physical pain. I need to get out of here right now, she thought, tears spilling down her cheeks. If he wakes up and sees me, he’ll think I’m just some cheap girl who sleeps around for money.

Ignoring the ache in her body and the dizzying spin in her head, Alita scrambled out of the bed. She scooped up her clothes, her hands trembling so violently she could barely pull her zipper up. Snatching her purse, she didn't look back. She slipped out of the room like a ghost, her heart in her throat until she escaped into the morning air.