Page 44 of Dusk Macabre

While I thought it was hot, it was uncomfortable without any other physical stimulation, sitting at the forefront of my mind without further distractions. My legs hurt, my back was sore, I was tired and wanted to lay down. These were all things I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with in the afterlife, and it was a bummer. Eternal rest, my ass.

He lifted an arm towards his chest and was suddenly wearing a well-fitted t-shirt. “Um, hello?” He was walking away and I waved my own hand over my body. “A little help here? Why do you get to wear clothes?”

“I have things to do,” he stated, walking away from me.

His voice was softer than I was used to, but he still left me here like this, unable to do anything but force my legs not to give out. My knees shook and knocked together. Every time I gave my legs some slack, it felt like my hair was being pulled from my scalp.

Hours must have gone by, but the wax of the candles that were lit along the periphery of the room never seemed to get any shorter. There was a cot inside my new prison, with a luxurious and super soft cushion on it, complete with fluffy blankets. Well, it looked super soft, but I wouldn’t know. Instead, it sat there mocking me, laughing at me if I listened closely enough, I was sure.

A week or so ago, I was at the club with Vance, working my shifts at the propane place, and hiking in the woods all the time. The chances of my parents doing anything with my apartment were slim, and it pissed me off that something would happen to all my treasures. There was no way my landlord wouldn’t sell all my shit.

Honestly, my parents would too. And then donate the money to save some invasive earthworms somewhere.

A fresh batch of tears coursed down my cheeks while I cried for everything I left behind. The candle flames dipped and wavered; the room dimmed out of nowhere and then the light returned. Or maybe, I was blinded by my tears. After I wiped my eyes, I flicked the water from my fingertips and bent my legs, gritting my teeth against the pain in my scalp.

Kiam was soooo dead. He just didn’t know it yet.

I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe, and if my legs didn’t shoot piercing pain through my calves and thighs, my head felt like it was engulfed in fire. On top of all that, I was angry and wanted to punch something but had nothing but steel bars to break my knuckles against.

The knots wouldn’t come undone when realistically, they should have. There was no reason I couldn’t get the simple loops untangled other than Kiam must have used his special shirt-magic to keep them tight. Chewing on my hair did nothing but make me thirsty.

Just when I thought a second death was imminent, the door sprang open and Kiam walked through. Wearing a freshly pressed, all-black three-piece suit with wide lapels and a satiny tie with a silver bar pin, his cufflinks gleamed in the candlelight.

If there was such a thing as PlayVampire magazine, he would have been on the front cover. When he got close enough, I was going to spit on him.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he purred, walking up to my jail cell.

He dragged his tongue across his lower lip, robbing me of the chance to fuck up his tie with a wad of saliva.

How would that feel between my legs...

He slid his tongue against an extended fang, and I sucked in a breath. My pulse kicked up. Was this dude messing with me?

“It's time to bring you back to your friends,” he said, coming around the side of the cage.

For a moment, I pictured myself waking up in the dirt, with ants crawling towards my face, my body twisted between wooden poles. Then I remembered. This isn’t a dream.

“What friends? If you’re talking about those two wankers—they’re not my friends. They’re elitist assholes.”

Kiam grunted and pulled the door open. “Every time you tell them something about me, I’m going to take one of your bones.”

“Excuse me?”

He flicked his fingers toward me, and my hair smoothly released itself from the bars. I fell in a crumpled heap, my body screaming in protest. My lungs refused to work as white-hot agony seared my body. The wood grain on the floor scratched my cheek, exacerbating the pain. The dry heaves that wracked my chest stole any bit of air left within me, and my vision went black.

The irony of not being able to beg for death was not lost on me.

The next thing I knew, my body was rocking back and forth and soft material cushioned my face. I was being moved, and a thumb was gently stroking my cheek. Snuggled into comfort, I tried to block the pain and prayed for unconsciousness to claim me. I wanted to stay here like this, wherever this was, where someone cared for me so sweetly. Leaning into the treasured feeling, I passed out.

* * *

My head was pounding. No, that was the door. When I brushed my hair away from my face, I couldn’t help the short cry that left my mouth. How the hell did I get back here? I was in Kiam’s arms, and then I wasn’t.

I rolled over onto my back and the next thing I knew, that redheaded fucker was in my face. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, ripping the comforter away.

“Headache,” I groaned.

His hand was cool as his palm cupped my forehead. The pain vanished instantly. “Get up.”