Chapter 6 Prince
PRINCE
Royce walks through the woods, my cum dripping from her cunt. With the cool night’s temperature, I know it’s already starting to dry on her inner thigh. The permanency of it fills me with overwhelming satisfaction.
I’ve hated her since the moment I arrived in this forsaken place. My abilities disappeared, and resentment overflowed. As the years passed, anger and loathing turned into a game with her, and I regret nothing and feel no remorse. I’ll forever be her hunter, and she, my prey.
My displeasure doesn’t solely fall upon Royce; Agatha also collects a share of it, but I do not crave to taste Agatha as I do Royce. That old bitch lives because I allow it and will continue to live until I allow it no more.
Brushing my hair off my forehead, my eyes still following my sweet Royce, bright colorful lights bounce through the large, bare hanging tree limbs.
Then something unusual happens; my sweet girl adds a skip and a hop to her step as her ever-so-unique hair sashays back and forth across her long, lean back.
Why is she happy?
The Fright Night Carnival graces our town each year with grungy yellow-and-red tents that have dulled over time.
Rides that make small children violently vomit afterward or jump with horrific glee.
Sideshows are a given. Our entire town of Hollows Grove is a fucking sideshow, for crying out loud.
Yet the crowds gather to have one night of fake thrills.
Perhaps one day I will give this place a thrill worth remembering. Until then, I digress.
Reaching the edge of the forest, my eyes continue to watch Royce. Her feet skip with more speed as she races down the long, grassy hill.
Before following suit, I peer up. Looking from far above our town, off in the distance, I spot Trick or Treat, the local strip joint.
The sign shines in bright neon pink against dark wood, showcasing one of its many talented witches who work there.
But for a brief moment, my mind wanders.
Ditching my sweet girl for instant gratification would be less of a hassle; however, I crave the chase too much.
I feel my cock twitch against my trousers.
To not hunt her would only send me spiraling and spinning.
Sweeping my eyes back toward Fright Night, Royce’s silhouette frolics farther away from me. My feet move, on instinct, with no thought. The smell of her fragrance lingers in the air, warm vanilla with seductive oud, a sensual earthy note, and I follow, knowing it will lead me to her.
Dry grass crunches beneath my shoes, the slant of the hill propelling me forward.
My gaze moves down, watching my movements to ensure I don’t fall or trip over myself and make a fucking scene.
As I reach the bottom, mesh fencing greets me, trapping everyone inside. I smirk. Oh, what a sight to be seen.
The vision of screaming crowds and roaring fires greets me. Blinking once removes it from my forethought; it’s only torture when I realize I cannot act upon it.
Following the fence line, my fingertips touch the cool metal, sliding against it as I walk.
The sight of witches, goblins, fairies, and ghosts, both families and couples on dates, appears as I turn around the corner to be greeted by the entrance.
Two black booths block the opening, and an orange crossbar rises with each payment to the cashiers, who are skeletons with name tags.
Luke and Yeti. Neither have eyeballs; how they got this job is perplexing, but nonetheless, their system seems to be working.
Stepping up, I hand Yeti a twenty from my wallet.
The orange bar rises, and he, I assume, waves me through.
“Make it out by midnight, or you’ll never escape.
” Raising my brows at the ominous statement, I nod and walk through.
The sound of classic carnival music greets me, the smell of fried shitty food lingers, and the sideshow freaks mingle, attempting to draw people into their booths and tents.
Some have chaotic pink, purple, and green hair, pale skin with cool-tone death makeup, long nails, and scantily clad garments hiding their pelvis regions with black tape forming X’s covering their perky nipples.
One walks over to me, his stiletto nail scratching under my chin and causing my head to turn.
His eyes are seductive, and as he narrows his lips, white smoke faintly dances from his breath.
The aroma is alluring, my eyes hood and my heartbeat can be heard in my ears.
Biting my lip, I inch forward, sucking it in.
It electrifies my body. Placing my hands on his strong chest and my cock grinding against his, I whisper breathlessly, “Later, I’ll come back for you. ”
This mysterious man breaks the connection first, stepping back and releasing me from his captivity. My eyes blink as I come out of his spell. Confused, I step back, questioning, “What was that?” Genuinely intrigued, as I have never experienced a spell such as this before.
He tsks me. “If I told you it wouldn’t be fun anymore, would it?” The seductress is right; the unknown is half the allure. Pondering his words, I nod, accepting it for now, and turn away.
A small breeze follows, allowing me to catch her scent once more. Closing my eyes, my body pivots, following it. Before I disappear from the main drag, my head turns, looking back briefly as my eyes open. What a fucking delicious specimen to devour later.
With hurried feet, I continue on my mission, Royce. It pleases me to know anyone capable of sniffing out scents will stay far away from her because I mark what’s mine. But not all will be able to tell, leading us to now, and why I follow.
The crowds thin out the deeper down the side path I go. Old witches’ cackling echoes, and the lights dim. Creatures linger in the shadows, only revealing themselves as I pass by.
Why would she come here?
It isn’t long before I catch up. Stopping in my tracks, I am taken aback by the sight before me.
She isn’t alone.
Her long fingers are intertwined with his.
Her free hand reaches over, holding on to his forearm as her head leans against his bicep.
His tattoos shine, made of silver glimmer, decorating every inch of exposed, nearly see-through, pale skin I can see.
Contrary to popular belief, vampires do not turn to dust under the sun.
They shine bright like a million tiny diamonds.
Some, like this fucker, get intricate designs done on their skin, making their glimmer more unique.
As the dim light catches the artwork, it shines similarly to when they are in the sun.
Wearing blue distressed jeans, sneakers, a tee, and chipped black nail polish, his head turns to look upon her, smiling.
How dare he!
My blood boils. Red fills my vision as I inject him with poisonous blood, destroying his plasma.
Loud, deep screams fill my ears, and his teeth chatter so hard his sharp fangs fracture.
The sizzling of skin follows, and the poison burns right through it, making his death a painful one.
Lastly, before it’s all over, I command him to take the cross I freshly sharpened and stab it into his heart. He does, ever so obediently.
Rightfully deserved.
Then, one blink is all it takes, and my vision vanishes. Revealing to me that the reality of my situation is still unfortunate.
I wish the blasted curse away from me. My fists clench out of frustration. Returning my focus ahead, I catch a glimpse of Royce’s hair disappearing into a tent.
Curious, indeed.
Standing outside of the slit in the fabric, I peer around, looking for any indication of what tent this could be, with nothing to be found.
Fingertips dance against the scratchy fabric before reaching between the slit.
Pulling it back, ever so slightly, my eyes peer through the narrow gap I’ve created.
The area is empty; only brown earth layers the ground with long, thick ropes hanging from the intricate trapeze system.
This tent only has a couple of rows of benches and is adequate but incredibly smaller than the other venue for such a performance here.
Faint giggles keep me moving.
The gentle waving of thin fabric intrigues me, guiding me toward it.
Peering through, it’s a small space with a couple mirrors and wooden costume chests. Stepping in, my eyes continue to wander around the tight space until I find her.
Her backside is leaning against a small table with her head thrown back, the ends of her hair falling on top of it while both hands grip the edge. He is devouring her mouth. His fingers linger up the slit of her cool silk slip dress, brushing against her thigh. Royce doesn’t stop him.
A moan escapes her as his fingers impale her throbbing pussy.
There’s nothing she loves more than an orgasm.
Blood boiling, it takes every inch of willpower I have for me to not interject and kill him now.
I’d thrive in a carnival bloodbath. Then my sweet girl’s purple eyes squint, feeling my presence as she peeks over to me.
They widen immediately, fear vibrating off her as he continues to fingerbang her.
Placing my index finger before my lips, I indicate she must keep quiet and turn away.
Because I love playing the game, taunting and stalking my prey before we play.
Clasping my hands together as I leave the tent, excitement riddles through me. Satisfaction follows, because it’s my cum inside of her that is coating his fingers, not hers.
Royce may have her fun tonight. But tomorrow, they will both reel from the consequences.