Entombed In Sin (Graveyard Games Duet #2)

24. Beatrix

24

BEATRIX

“ A lright, Morty, you’re all set for your family to pick you up,” I mutter to the ashes I’ve fit snugly into the pretty clay urn his family picked out for him. “I know you’re looking forward to going home, and I’m excited for you.”

After giving the top of the urn a quick, loving pat, I scoop up the paperwork beside it and then tuck Morty under my arm. Taking my time, I head toward the office. Bright Starr should be empty now, and I’m willing to risk running into anyone lingering in the hallway to get this up front. Since Trevor’s funeral and Pastor’s Michaels’s suicide two days ago, I’ve had about seven visitors from town coming in to apologize to me. Apparently, Pastor Michaels left a full confession in a note he’d shoved into his pocket. It had been found by the EMTs as they carted him the seventy miles to the next nearest funeral home. According to the people who came in, someone had put that note in the town’s paper. I don’t get the newspaper, and I don’t really care what was said. I just want all of that to be over.

Tomorrow, Morty’s family is planning to arrive early, before their flight out to Lake Tahoe to spread his ashes. Once I drop him off, I’ll be good to slip away and head up to the house for the evening. Knox made a strawberry tiramisu last night, and it was the best dessert I’ve ever had. I’d stashed a second sliver of the dessert away while the others descended upon it after dinner, and I want to grab it now before the twins sniff it out.

Who knew serial killers could have such a sweet tooth?

Maybe I can ask Knox to make another one just for us. Just thinking about him makes my heart flutter. Ever since his punishment, he’s been… sweet. I keep waiting for him to return to the old version of himself, but it doesn’t happen. Knox really has changed. His easy smiles are brighter than I’m used to, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach out and pull me to his side or drag me down into his lap while we watch TV. He’s still his flippant, cocky self, but it’s like everything Knox says and does is steeped with more emotion than I’ve ever seen out of him.

I don’t understand what spurred this change, but I like it. I like Knox more than ever.

I can tell that our new relationship has been noticed by the twins. Just last night, Sagan dragged me into his bedroom just before I could crawl into my own bed, and forced me to my knees. There, he’d looked down at me, his eyes so full of darkness, and growled between clenched teeth,

“Open wide, Little Viper, and let me feed you my cock.”

I’d taken his thick, heavy erection into my mouth, loving the velvety feel of his shaft sliding over my tongue.

As I took him to the back of my throat, he’d bellowed out, “Knox! Get your ass in here now before I tear it apart.”

As my tongue caressed Sagan’s cock and I sucked hard, Knox flew into the room with a big old smile. He’d taken one look at what was going on before coming up and dropping behind me to tongue my back door and finger me until I was screaming across Sagan’s dick. The look of absolute hunger and satisfaction I'd seen in Sagan’s eyes still causes my heart to seize. He enjoyed watching Knox and I.

Then there was this morning, when I found Knox perched on the edge of the kitchen table with his pants puddled on the floor. Thatcher stood between his legs, his dick buried deep in Knox’s ass. Knox’s cries of delight and whimpers for more of the hard snap of Thatcher’s hips had my heart hammering and mouth drying. They were incredible together. Knowing what had happened the last time I’d seen these two together, though, I knew I couldn’t stay. I’d almost managed to slip out of the room when Thatcher’s hips had stopped moving abruptly and his head suddenly turned to look over his shoulder at me.

“I’m sorry!” I’d blurted out, my heart racing with fear at having been caught. “I didn’t mean to?—”

“Come here, Little Sister.”

I’d moved toward him then, knowing I didn’t have another choice. I came to stand beside him, staring into his face earnestly, hoping he could see I wasn’t trying to spy.

“You’re just in time. Your doll wants to be played with,” he’d explained with a warm smile. “Take his spot.”

My fear had fallen away as excitement and heat coursed through my veins. I’d glanced at Knox, who turned to stare at me with a smoldering gaze. The hunger and longing in his eyes as he looked between us was enough to tell me he wanted this, too.

Thatcher pulled out of Knox, grabbed him by the throat, and jerked him up off the table and onto his feet. They stepped back, giving me room. Quickly, I discarded my clothes and sat right where Knox had been.

“You’re going to make us very happy, Pretty Boy,” Thatcher growled into Knox’s ear before forcing Knox to turn to face me. “Legs wide, Little Sister. Give your doll some room to sink his cock into you.”

I can still feel the imprints left by my pounding heart as Thatcher walked Knox toward me. I’d spread my legs, and Knox half-bent over me, braced his hands on either side of me on the table. Before I could say anything, he’d stolen a kiss, and with a jerk of his hips, he stole my breath as his dick slid into me. My hands came up instinctually and landed on his bare chest. His hard flinch scared me, but when he let out a deep, heavy groan, I’d echoed it and my body clenched around him.

“What a good toy you are, Pretty Boy,” Thatcher had purred as he thrust back into Knox, who cried out against my lips. “Show my sister how much fun you are. How versatile you can be…”

With every hard snap of Thatcher’s hips, Knox plunged into me. When Thatcher pulled out, Knox pulled back. A rhythm started, and I was lost to the heat and magic of the moment between these men. When I’d cum, the mess I’d made all over the table, floor, and Knox, it had been worth the cleanup. Knox had cum next with a strangled cry as I caressed his bare stomach and chest, and when Thatcher followed suit, his gaze met mine over Knox’s shoulder and I saw the raw approval there.

Now that Knox and I have clicked, everything seems to be perfect.

I suck in a deep breath as heat billows through my veins. Right now is not the time or place to be feeling so aroused. Tamping down the desire, I wind through Bright Starr’s hallways. I make it to the office without running into anyone. Which is… odd. In fact, Bright Starr is eerily quiet. I stand just outside the office and listen for any sounds. There are none. I push the door open and find the office empty. Where are Thatcher, Sagan, and Knox? Shouldn’t they all be around somewhere? With a frown, I stroll across the room to place Morty and his paperwork on the desk.

“Alright, Morty. I’ll be back to hand you off to your family in the morning,” I tell him.

Just as I take a step backward, the sound of a floorboard creaking causes me to pause. It’s the wrong move. A hood is thrown over my head, blocking my view of the office. I scream in terror as arms wrap around me and pin my own to my sides. Instinctually, I try to jerk forward but I’m pulled back against someone’s chest. With ease, I’m lifted off the ground.

“No, no, no!” I wail. “Thatcher! Sagan! Help! ”

A dark chuckle comes from behind me as I’m carried out of the office. “What about Knox? You could see if he comes running to your aid. Though, maybe it’s smart not to include him. He’s not really a runner. By the time he decided to show up, you could be long gone.”

I gasp, going still for all of about five seconds as I realize who has hold of me.

“Sagan? What’s going on? What are you doing?!” Each question grows louder as his grip around me tightens and fear gets the better of me. Something’s not right. I can feel the eerie humming of excitement radiating from the Hunt twin. If Sagan’s excited about something, I know it won’t bode well for me.

A door opens, and I’m hit with a blast of cold air as he carries me outside.

“What did I do?! Sagan, tell me! If I did something wrong, I’m sorry! Please don’t do this to me!” I wail. Tears leak from my eyes as every possible horrible ending they could do to me crosses my mind.

“Don’t want to be punished? Then you shouldn’t have broken a rule,” Sagan says, then chuckles again.

My scream of terror echoes around the Bright Starr parking lot. Not another punishment. I won’t survive it! I fight Sagan harder than ever. Kicking back my feet, I try to land a strike that will cause him to drop me. He must be made from steel, however, because no matter how hard I hit him, he remains unfazed.

“Was this about what I did to Knox? I’m sorry! He said I could! I’ll apologize to him!”

Sagan stops walking but he doesn’t let me go. Not right away, and because of that, I don't stop fighting. I scream again. This time the sound of fear is mixed with despair and frustration.

“Your scream is so pretty, Little Viper,” Sagan murmurs into my ear.

A muffled sound reaches my ear. I can’t quite tell what it is, which scares me even more. What is going on?

“Please, Sagan, please . I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry! Don’t do this, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t do this!”

“I like the way you beg, Little Viper,” he mutters into my ear. “Too bad it's not going to get you out of this.”

He lets go of me abruptly. It’s so sudden and unexpected that I drop unceremoniously onto something thinly carpeted. There’s a strange growling noise and movement beside me, but before I can gather my bearings, Sagan’s hand shoves me down—forcing me to lie on my side. The minute his hand disappears, there’s a thump, and I’m cast into a thick, muffled stillness.

Immediately, I reach up and yank the hood off my head. I’m in a trunk, that much is clear. It’s confirmed when the engine roars to life. My heart bottoms out and my reality tilts on its axis. No… The stale, hot air and darkness are too familiar. Too oppressive. I’m buried alive again. Sweat breaks out on my skin as I lash out. My screams reach octaves I didn’t know existed, let alone that I could reach. My hands claw at the roof and my feet kick every which way.

There’s a snarl, a muffled growl, and then sputtering.

“Beatrix! Chill out! You’re going to kick me in my jewels!”

Wait, is Knox behind this? That’s his voice. Why does it sound like he’s here with me? I alternate between screams and sobs, words all but lost to me as panic consumes every fiber of my being.

“ Beatrix! ” Arms wrap around me in the dark and yank me further into the back of the tight space. My back presses against him and my panic spikes to new heights.

Crap, he’s in here with me! That’s who’s dragging me backward. Tears stream down my face. How are we both going to survive in here? There won’t be enough air to get to our destination. We’re going to die. The two of us are going to suffocate to death slowly. The thought of my time cut in half only makes this worse. Sobs wrack my body, my ragged drags of breath only limiting the amount of air we have left.

“Hey, we’re going to be ok. Well, ok- ish . They aren’t going to kill us. This is just them punishing us,” he says, his mouth skimming across the back of my neck as he talks. “Be glad they didn’t bind and gag you like they did me. Fuckers knew I’d stab them the minute I got out of here. Good thing I’m a pro at getting myself out of ropes.” He scoffs. “This is some bullshit.”

I shake my head, still sobbing. “I can’t be in here. I can’t suffocate again. Knox…”

One of his hands rubs my arm up and down. “Just breathe; we can’t suffocate in a trunk. Relax, take a deep breath with me, ok?”

His chest expands behind me, pressing hard against my back. When he lets out the deep breath he took, it slides over my neck. I shiver in response.

“Come on, Beatrix, breathe with me,” he urges before taking another deep breath.

My panic won’t subside. I swear I can feel the air thinning. Despite how cold it is outside, it’s hot in the trunk with our body heat. Hard sobs rock my frame, reminding me just how tight the space is as the top of my head skims across the metal side.

“ Breathe , Beatrix,” Knox coos. “You’re going to make yourself sick, and if you think that’s going to get you out of this, then you’re sorely mistaken. Try to clear your head ’cause you’re going to need it tonight. Thatcher looked deranged as fuck earlier—I should’ve known a punishment was coming.”

Nothing he’s saying is helping at all. I scream again.

Knox takes another deep, audible breath. Then another. The rise and fall of his chest finally breaks through my hysteria.

“I can’t do this, Knox,” I whimper softly.

“Yeah, you can,” he chuckles, the sound strained. “You’re tough, and you’ll get through it. You might not like it, but, hey, that’s how the twins do things.”

My next sob causes my whole body to jerk hard. Knox pulls me tighter against him. “W-what did I do?”

Knox hesitates. “ That I’m not going to tell you. That’s cheating. I’ll get doubly punished, and I really don’t want that. But just take some comfort in the fact we’re gonna go through this together, ’kay? Trust me, being here in the dark is nothing compared to whatever Thatcher and Sagan have planned, so enjoy the down time.”

“I’m not going to play.” I shake my head. Panicked and angry tears trickle down my face as I think about what we could be facing. The different scenarios that flicker through my head only make me feel worse. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, you did,” Knox objects ruefully. “But after this, you won’t have to worry about getting punished for it again because you’ll have learned your lesson.”

I glare into the darkness as tears continue to spill down my cheeks. Knox’s hand slides up and down my arm again. The soothing gesture is both strange and nice.

Now that the panic has settled some, I can think. My head races as I consider my options. Once this car comes to a stop, I can do one of two things. The first is that I go along with whatever their punishment is. Whatever nightmare situation they’re concocting is probably worse than being buried alive. How? I don’t know, but I’m not willing to find out if I can help it. Which leads me to option two: I fight back. The thought is startling. Since when do I retaliate? Then again, in what universe do I kill people? Drug guys or bathe in blood? Apparently this one.

It’s that thought I cling to as the car comes to a sudden stop.

“Oh fuck… Here we go,” Knox grumbles in my ear. “I wish they’d at least give me more time in between yours and theirs.”

I should’ve asked what Knox did to earn his punishment, but it’s too late now. At any moment, we’re about to be thrown into a new type of hell. I bite the inside of my cheek. I’ve made my decision. I know what I’m going to do. Squirming away, out of Knox’s arms, I mentally and physically brace myself.

As the trunk opens, I twist and fling myself upward at the person standing over me. All I know is that it’s one of the twins. That’s as much as my brain processes as I strike. My fingers curl into claws, and when I grab hold of their face, I make sure my nails dig deep. I can taste blood as my teeth sink into the crook of their neck.

I’m not gentle as I fight for the last pieces of sanity I still hold on to. If they put me through another punishment, I might lose what I have left.

A booming laugh startles me. The noise overpowers the swearing of the twin I’ve latched onto. As a pair of hands grip my hips, I push off on the twin I’ve attacked and kick out, then jerk my elbow into whoever is trying to pry me off. The satisfying sound of a grunt as my foot lands in someone’s gut only pleases me for a moment.

Someone grabs my flailing ankle as I try to kick out again. They tug hard. I screech as I’m yanked off one twin and thrown onto the ground. The cement is hard and knocks the breath out of my lungs. Whoever grabbed my leg still has it and twists it hard to one side. Pain flares up my leg and I scream, moving with the limb so it won’t break.

It’s the wrong move. I should’ve let it break. In this position, I’m on my stomach. I scream in terror as the laughter continues above me. The twins are having fun . Fighting was the wrong choice. I should’ve tried to run. How could I have been so stupid? They’re feeding off my fear. Using my hands, I try to push up. A hand, placed in the middle of my back, pushes me back down to the ground. I rest my cheek on the cold, hard cement as I try to catch my breath.

“Well, that was an unexpected treat,” Thatcher says, laughing darkly from on top of me. “Knox, want to make a run for it? Make this evening more fun?”

Knox snorts. “Yeah, no. Sagan has that fucking glint in his eye I know too well. I’m good.”

“You’re not good ,” Thatcher spits out, his mood swiftly shifting. “That’s why you’re in this predicament in the first place. Now get out and lay down.”

“You could say ‘please,’ you know. Manners will—” Knox yelps, and a second later his body hits the ground a few feet away from me. I stare, wide-eyed, as Sagan places his foot in the middle of Knox’s back to keep him down. Knox thrashes, but it doesn’t do him any good. “Fucking hell, Sagan! Watch the face!”

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Little Sister,” Thatcher starts. He shifts over me so that his thighs straddle my waist. Leaning down, he growls into my ear, “Knox is participating in your punishment tonight, so take some comfort in knowing that our attention will be split between the two of you while we play Fox and the Hound.”

Knox swears. “Fox and the Hound? Damn it, I typically love this game! Am I going to be a hound tonight? The fox part isn’t as fun.”

“ You’re not having the fun tonight, Pretty Boy. We are,” Sagan assures him, his voice a growl that practically vibrates with excitement.

“I’m not playing! I didn’t do anything wrong!” I cry out.

The Hunt twins chuckle. The sound is ominous. Bumps rise and race down both of my arms and my back at their dark amusement.

“Oh, you’ll play, Little Sister,” Thatcher promises. “Don’t like pain? Don’t want to bleed? Then, I highly suggest you make it a point not to get caught by either of us. Run hard and hide well, and maybe you’ll walk away this evening. But if you get caught? You’re ours to do with as we wish. Three strikes, and you’re out. Got it?”

His words don’t make sense. Not really. So I attempt to talk my way out of a night full of terror.

“I’m sorry, Thatcher! Whatever I did, I’m really sorry. Just tell me, and I won’t do it again!”

“You’re not quite sorry enough for my liking.” His weight shifts down my legs. “But you will be. In the meantime, before we get started, I got you something to wear. It’ll make the game more fun for all of us.”

Before I can reply, the sound of fabric ripping and a cold rush of air over my back cuts me off.

“Did you just cut my dress off?” I shriek in horror.

Thatcher doesn’t answer. Probably because the answer is obvious as he continues. The material is cut off me. Some of the poor lighting manages to reflect off Thatcher’s knife, as he proceeds to slice through the half sleeves of my dress. Beside us, Sagan grabs Knox’s shirt to rip it.

“If you destroy this top, I’m going to be so fucking pissed,” Knox warns. “Let me take it off.”

“I’ll risk your wrath, Pretty Boy,” Sagan spits back and tears the material away.

Knox howls with fury. I cringe at the sound, knowing how vindictive Knox can be in his rage. Sagan, on the other hand, only laughs before pulling out a knife and cutting through Knox’s pants. Before I can wonder at that, my bra is cut away from my body. Then go my panties.

“No, wait!” I start to thrash again, hating how vulnerable I feel without any clothes on.

“I’ve waited long enough,” Thatcher snarls. “And you were just going to keep me waiting. I’ve lost my patience with your shit, Little Sister.”

There’s the sound of a lid popping open. Knox yelps suddenly from where he is on the ground, but I can’t focus on him right now. I have my own problems. Like how some type of liquid drips down onto my butt and slides between my cheeks. It’s thick and cool. I try to jerk upright but Thatcher’s hand comes back between my shoulder blades to keep me pinned in place. Fingers follow the trail of liquid, finding the entrance to my back door and coating it generously. Abruptly, Thatcher sticks a finger into me. My cry of surprise is echoed by Knox, going through his own ordeal.

“If you think fingers are a shock, you’re in for a treat,” Thatcher promises.

As Thatcher probes me, Sagan’s feet come into view. I look up, tears blurring my vision of him.

“Please, Sagan, help me!”

He crouches down to stare at me, his face impassive, almost bored. Then our eyes meet. There I catch sight of a strange, dim light that brightens both his green eye and the brown one. It could be from the random streetlights around us, or maybe it's a reflection from something nearby. But my gut twists as something instinctually whispers that demonic glow is coming from inside him.

“You struck, Little Viper. I am proud of you.” His mouth moves, his lips peeling back into what I think is supposed to be a grin, but it's all teeth, and it brightens that strange gleam in the depths of his eyes. “I can’t wait until you mark me the way you’ve done my brother. I’ll cherish your teeth in my flesh.”

Sagan stands and steps away from me. At the same time, Thatcher's fingers pull out of me. Just when I think my humiliation is over, something large, smooth, round, and cold comes to rest right at my hole. I don’t know what it is, but I know I don’t want it anywhere inside of me.

“No!” I screech, thrashing harder than ever as it's pressed into me. My muscles protest despite the clear presence of lube. “Please, no!”

The bulbous point is worked into me thanks to the constant pressure applied by Thatcher, who doesn't relent despite my screams. I can't take it. I try to tell him that—my weepy pleas are loud and echo around us. Still, Thatcher works the cold metal into me until there's a popping sensation.

And then the object is sitting inside me. It doesn't hurt nearly as bad as when it entered. I do, however, feel fuller than I've ever felt before. I lie there, my cheek pressed against the cement, breathing heavily, trying to assimilate to the new sensation. There’s weight to the object. Each heavy breath I take, my body clenches around it and the weight causes it to massage my insides.

Behind me, Thatcher shifts. There's a tug on the object inside me. It's slight, but even the tiniest of movements seem to adjust the sensations. I choke on a sound. It certainly can’t be a moan, can it? A shiver of fear races down my spine. What is this? My breathing turns into rapid gasps as panic threatens to consume me once more. Above me, Thatcher’s weight disappears.

“Sit up,” he orders.

I shake my head, and through gasps, I sob out, “I can't.’

“You can. Now sit up .”

There's a hint of annoyance in his voice, and it's followed by a tug at whatever he's stuck inside me. I yelp and scramble to get to my knees. When I move, the thing inside me shifts. It’s not painful, but it’s certainly noticeable and makes getting to my feet awkward and stiff. Rather than acknowledge Thatcher, I glare at his feet and attempt to will them into combusting into flames.

“Look at me, Little Sister.”

My bottom lip trembles. When I refuse to look up, Thatcher chuckles darkly.

“I can make tonight infinitely more unpleasant if you won’t listen,” he promises.

How much worse can tonight get? Dragging my eyes off the road, I look up. Thatcher shoots me a knowing grin. Angry scratches mar his red cheek and there’s a bloody bite mark in the crook of his neck. Seeing the marks brings me only a little joy.

“Good girl, Beatrix.”

“What? I don’t get a good boy?” Knox groans. “I just got a plug up my ass without lube.”

Thatcher smiles over at him. “When you earn it, then you’ll hear it.”

Sagan snickers. The sound is more like the crackle of a fire rather than of amusement. “You shouldn’t get praised for putting up with something you enjoyed every second of.”

“No I didn’t!” Knox protests.

“Your hard cock tells me otherwise.”

I glance over to find Knox just as naked as I am. He’s on his knees, his head tilted to the side to look up at Sagan.

Sagan points with his knife to something behind me. “We’re going to give each of you a three minute head start. Little Viper, you’ll go first through the hole in the fence. Then you have free range to run and scream all you want.”

“Your punishment will last for exactly one hour. If, for whatever reason, we have to cut the game short, you’ll hear a whistle, but don’t bank on that.” Thatcher pulls out his phone and says, “Your head start begins in three seconds. On your mark, get set… go .”