Page 36 of Fed By Fear

Eyes widen. Mouths open and scream. The shrill sounds are distant despite how close we are now.

My jaw sticks when I try to explain. Instead of words, a new scream pierces the room. My scream. I’m left with a raw throat and aching lungs.

Help me, I want to say.

Blood rushes to my ears and back, dizzying me. A presence steps into the forefront of my thoughts.

Everything. Goes. Black.

Chapter 9

Githany

Crickets sing and a breeze blows with it the scent of something damp. I’m flat on my back, staring at a starry sky. Time loses itself. Did I make it out? Memories crawl closer to the surface of my mind. The ghost led me to a door, the people were startled and staring, and then…nothing.

Contentment entices me to stay right where I am.

Hands drift along my skin. My own touch setting my every cell alight. I laugh, a full-belly laugh, one that burns my abs when I can’t seem to stop. Maybe the blackout was Madness’s doing. I’ve had many blackouts before. I’m usually tired, achy, exhausted when I come to.

This time I’m happy, if not a little dizzy. It’s like someone has replaced all my blood with tingling sparkles. More laughter seizes me.

This time my stomach lurches with the action.

The good feeling fades. My insides cramp. I’m too hot. Sweat drenches me. The grass is itchy against my back. I’m too stretched, like my skin may rip at its seams. A mass of blooming energy throbs through my veins. The power claws at my muscles and bones, fighting to find a wayout.

The pain comes on so sudden and strong.

“I didn’t expect you to be so messy.” The depth of the tone is too intense. Each word burrows into my squirming soul. I’ve gone blind from the pressure inside my skull. More words are muttered above me, or maybe inside me. Every syllable worms its way through my interior. “Then again, none of us expected you to bethis.”

Who is standing above me, speaking? Arms scoop me up. The rush of being lifted off the ground is too abrupt. I beg to be set down until my mind gives way once more, and I drop back into the dark.

Gator

Blood-splattered tits slap against my back as I haul her over my shoulder. Her limp body dangles behind me as we trudge into familiar territory.

I’m going to need to have a talk with the boys. Our little ghost girl isn’t a ghost girl at all. I’m not certain what she is, but all those dead bodies I passed on the way to find her confirm that we have our hands full with this one.

Stitching my room to Hunt’s so that our domains overlap isn’t cheating. It’s ingenuity. He’ll be pissed, of course. Especially when he realizes I sealed the seam once she got close enough for me to catch. It won’t be impossible for him to break through. Nothing is that strong. But it will delay him.

They should be grateful I’m the one who found her and cleaned up her mess. Hunt will be jealous he missed the blood. I bet he’d do just about anything to lick it off her nakedbody.

I can handle Hunt. I prefer him pissed. It means he’ll try to fight me off. There’s nothing more satisfying than pleasuring someone who’s determined to hate you. Watching the war rage, the fight draining as bliss tramples through their resolve. I know how to touch Hunt in ways that snatch away every last bit of his perceived control.

Githany must have thought she was subtle, sneaking between the branches and brush. I could hear her bounding through the trees within two footfalls of passing through the curtain.

Humans don’t stand a chance against demon senses. Not that she’s human. What the fuck is she?

Having Githany’s ass this close to my face should be thrilling. It would be if her scent wasn’t so different.

A bitter taste envelops my tongue. Someone’s had their fun with her. She no longer smells entirely herself. Of course I recognize Madness’s scent. Greedy little two-faced bastard. He should be wearing the pig’s mask. The plan was to take turns scaring her until she was bursting with fear. Then fuck her until she fell apart.

They started without me.

Which is why they’ll be fighting to get into my domain while I’m busy making Githany drench my cock.

A muddy boot print stains the cabin door as I kick it wide. The small, warm-toned room is like a second home. We’ve all developed special relationships with our haunted-house personas. Our domains have shifted over the last few years, becoming closer and closer to our masked characters. This part of my domain is just the front room. A butcher’s block in the center, a few meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. The real fun happens in the back.

Githany is still unconscious as I drop her onto the table. Years of old bloodstains color the wood, matching thecrimson coating her changing skin. Such abstract beauty. She looks gorgeous lying atop it.