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    Until the Morning
    Until the Morning
    Until the Morning
    Ebook77 pages1 hour

    Until the Morning

    By S.C. Wynne

    ()

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    About this ebook

    When Peter Thompson's best buddy, Brandon Ray discovers there's a fraternity in town willing to pay two hundred dollars to anyone who spends Halloween night in old Scarborough Manor, he drags Peter and dorm oddball, Creepy Connor along to keep him company.

    It isn't long before the boys figure out why no one has ever lasted the entire night in the terrifying place. Peter and his pals can only hope they'll live to regret their decision.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherS.C. Wynne
    Release dateMay 25, 2018
    ISBN9781386629290
    Until the Morning
    Author

    S.C. Wynne

    S.C. Wynne has been writing MM romance and mystery since 2013. She’s a Lambda winner, and lives in California with her wonderful husband, two quirky kids, and a loony rescue pup named Ditto. www.scwynne.com

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      Book preview

      Until the Morning - S.C. Wynne

      Until

      the

      Morning

      By S.C. Wynne

      Chapter One

      Tell me again why you brought along Creepy Connor? I muttered, glancing in the vanity mirror at the vampire with the earbuds sitting in the rear seat.

      Brandon laughed, braking to avoid a little girl dressed as a cat, and her buddy the pumpkin. Relax, Peter. It’ll be fine.

      I crossed my arms, watching the giggling kids skip across the road with their pillow cases filled with candy flopping against their legs. I’m perfectly relaxed.

      Brandon laughed like he wasn’t buying it. Smith’s here because he’s actually spent the night at Scarborough Manor.

      My gaze returned to the mirror. Connor Smith sat serenely, listening to his music and staring at the stained ceiling of the sedan. Abruptly, his gaze dropped, locking with mine. He wiggled his dark brows and smiled, revealing white, plastic fangs. I looked away quickly, but not before I noticed his eyes were the unnatural green of a kiwi fruit.

      Smith did? I said to Brandon.

      Look, dude. We have a better chance of snagging the two hundred bucks if we have someone with a little experience with us. Brandon shrugged.

      I’m not sure why. I didn’t dare risk another glance in the mirror. Connor’s bright gaze had unsettled me and started my heart thumping. He was interesting-looking, with sensual lips, fringy coal-black hair and high, aristocratic cheek bones. I’d have cut out my tongue before I admitted it to Brandon, but I’d always thought Connor Smith was as sexy as he was odd. And he was very odd.

      I told you. He’s experienced, Brandon said.

      At?

      He spent the night in that rat hole and he still has a pulse.

      I straightened my plastic stethoscope. First of all, how do you know that’s true? And secondly, why the hell would he do that? That just makes him even creepier.

      Brandon glanced at me with a smirk hanging on his wide lips. His Viking helmet was slightly askew, and even though I was irritated, it was hard not to smile. Seriously? Are we or are we not headed to Scabby Manor as we speak?

      I’m just along for the ride. This was your idea.

      Then I guess we don’t have to divvy the money evenly?

      I smiled grudgingly and tried another tack. "You do realize if we split the two hundred dollars between the three of us, the amount we each get breaks down to 66.666, right?"

      "Holy shit! Six-six-six. That is fucking perfect for Halloween, man!"

      Sounds like a bad omen to me.

      Lighten up, dude. It’ll be dope. Smith seems like a good guy, and what could be better than spending the night in a haunted house on Halloween? Getting some cash for our trouble is just a bonus. Brandon honked the horn at a pickup truck full of giggling teenage girls, which narrowly cut him off.

      I slid down in my seat and turned up the volume on the radio. As if spending the night in the Scabby Manor wasn’t bizarre enough, we were going to share the experience with our mysterious dorm mate, Creepy Connor? I wasn’t quite sure what to feel about that.

      Connor had transferred to Hoveton University six months earlier. I didn’t know a lot about him because he kept mostly to himself. He bunked alone ever since his roommate had dropped out in the middle of the semester. My guess was he liked it that way because if one of us came into the common area when he was studying, he usually gathered up his books and split. Frankly, I thought his nickname didn’t fit. It should have been more like Shy Connor or Skulk Away Connor. But I guess those didn’t roll off the tongue as easily as Creepy Connor.

      I’ve never understood why Alpha Phi offers money for this stupid stunt.

      Brandon shrugged. They’ve been doing it for years. My guess is they use it mostly for publicity. If you’ll notice, Alpha Phi has double the number of pledges of any other fraternity on campus.

      You’re sure all we have to do is spend the night and they hand over two hundred bucks?

      That’s what it says on their website. Brandon shot me a quick glance. No one has ever succeeded, which is mystifying to me. I mean how hard can it be?

      I thought you said Smith stayed the night?

      It wasn’t on Halloween and he didn’t follow protocol.

      I snorted. "I’m sorry. There’s an actual protocol involved here?"

      Brandon gestured toward the dashboard where a copy of the Hoveton Journal was lying. You have to take a picture of yourself in the basement, holding a newspaper to prove the date.

      That’s not exactly airtight. We could just take a picture and then leave, I said, staring out the window.

      "The truth is no one even wants to step foot in that basement on a normal night, let alone Halloween. So I think having the cojones to go down there even for a minute on All Hallows’ Eve night is enough for Alpha Phi." As we left town the road became steeper and Brandon shifted into low gear. The ragged shape of the mountain loomed in the distance.

      Hoveton was a quiet little berg that sat in a flat basin at the foot of Hells Peak. It was the sort of town where all the neighbors knew each other. People waved over the fences and watched each other’s dogs when they went on vacation. The fact that this Mayberry-like atmosphere existed at the base of a mountain with the word hell

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