Chapter Sixteen
Marcus
The fall ends abruptly.
My knees crack against cold, damp stone with a ferocity that sends cobwebs of pain spiking to my hips. Skin tears across my palms with my fumbling attempts to keep my face from following suit.
But all that is there and gone, momentarily dulled by the bubble of nausea climbing bitter to my throat. The space between my ears pulses, heavy with a fog that has me blinking to focus.
I see the altar before my gaze catches on the polished cross. My head snaps up to the twin shadows falling over me, caging me between them.
I’m in the chapel.
Kneeling between the coffins of my sons.
Several floors beneath where I’d been outside Lenora’s door.
I scramble up on weak knees and stumble back like distance will make the reality bearable.
Like maybe that scene had been a dream and I’d fallen asleep …
here? I would not be here. Since having them brought to the house, I have been unable to be this close.
I would not have come to stand before their rotting corpses.
So, this must be the nightmare.
“Must be hard to see your handiwork up close.”
The quiet clink of metal.
The subtle plop of something dripping into a steady puddle.
The room dulls at the edges, sharpens around the coffins.
I dare another shuffling step away but remaining exactly where I’d been.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Almost like windchimes, but thin and distant.
I know the sound. It’s so familiar, yet I don’t understand where it’s coming from.
Even sweeping the room, there are only shadows.
Thick and black with trims of indigo and crimson.
The latter bleeds in with aggression. It soaks through all the others like blood through water.
And still the chime continues, rattling somewhere I can’t see.
Something gurgles. Wet and choking. Thick liquid being forced down a seizing esophagus.
Swallowing.
Choking.
Choking.
Swallowing.
The metal pieces clink.
I brave another attempt to step in retreat and remain exactly in place. I take a glance back, searching for the door, but the chamber is sealed. No way in. No way out. wall upon wall of shadows congealing like a living soul.
“What do you want?” I bite through gritted teeth.
“We want to know how it feels to kill your own flesh and blood … for a pretty pussy.”
I don’t dare glance at the coffins, but glower at the cross. The wood slick with sweat.
“I didn’t kill my sons.”
Drip.
Plop.
Choke.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Something hisses. The distinct grind of steel across stone.
Swallow.
Gurgle.
“Yes, you did. You knew they would die. You hoped.”
“That’s a lie!” My snarl springs across the walls, rebounds and tangles in the clutter of metal. “I loved them. I would never—”
“She was theirs first.” The voice is thick and tacky brushing my skull. “You envied what they had.”
I’m shaking my head before it can even finish.
“I didn’t want them dead. I would never want them dead.”
The gurgle chokes a sound like laughter.
“You hated them for having her. You wanted her to look at you the way she looked at them.”
“I didn’t…”
But I know it’s a lie.
I didn’t hate my sons, but I coveted the one thing they had that I couldn’t — her.
Lenora.
Soft, sweet Lenora with her beautiful smile and intoxicating laugh. Lenora with her dirt-stained hands and eyes that could see straight through a man’s soul. She took me apart and put me together in a way I never understood but can’t imagine my life without.
But I didn’t kill my sons.
I loved them. Of course I did. They were all I had left in the world after Catherine. After James and Gloria.
“Deep in your heart, you know what you did. You let them die.”
Pale, crimson light washes across the glossy sheen of the boxes. It puddles across the floor in a red halo I swear … moves. It coils and writhes. Bodiless snakes twisting and knotting.
I didn’t.
I don’t know if I voiced the words out loud, but I think them over and over as the tendrils crawl closer.
“What would she say if she knew who the real monster is? Do you think she will still love you?”
I turn away, refusing to see anymore, and nearly scream when I find myself face to face with … myself.
But it’s not me.
I’m peering into a rectangle of ornate wood the same polished mahogany as the boys’ coffins, but slick with moisture. The stain fogs the glass, distorts the edges, but I can’t miss the figure watching me back.
My eyes are pits of living black. Wisps leak from the edges and run in streaks along my cheeks. Unlike now, I’m not clad in my dark sleeping trousers. I’m naked.
Behind me is the ruined remains of that chamber. The dirt and grime, a heavy smog that coats the air in a gritty hue.
Mirror me smirks like it can sense my confusion.
It’s — his — my body shifts to one side and I catch a glimpse of the lone, pale figure drifting into view far below.
Dark hair a soft wave down her back. The nightgown I put on her that last night she spent with me hugs her warm curves.
Part of my brain wonders why she would wear the same one, but it’s a fleeting thought compared to the bigger picture.
Lenora is with that creature.
My heart kicks in my chest as I watch her climb the platform and stand at the center next to the grotesque altar carved from crude wood, green with rot and swollen as if recently pulled from the depths of the ocean.
The figure of me turns to her and I rush to the glass.
My palms bite into the edges as I grab the sides.
“Lenora!”
My voice carries through the chapel, but the woman inside the glass glances up only when the figure of me reaches her.
Does she not see the eyes? How can she believe it’s me? But she is not screaming in fear. She’s not asking how it’s possible. She continues to stand and speak to it like it’s normal.
“Get away from her!”
My fist beats the glass. I push away when nothing happens and spin to face the room, the walls. Still no doors. No way to run to her.
“You’ll enjoy this part,” the thing taunts.
I have no desire to watch, but my feet turn to the view of my hands brushing the nightgown off Lenora’s perfect frame. It puddles at her feet, leaving all that soft flesh bare and flushed before the creature kissing her.
My hands reach for the frame once more. They curl into the foliage carved into the wood until the edges cut into flesh.
“Watch her,” the voice hisses. “Watch her spread her legs and take your cock.”
But it’s not mine.
Not the mouth latched to her tight little nipple. Not the hips positioning high between her sprawled thighs.
But I feel the whisper of her fingers gliding down my back. I feel the hard points of her breasts graze my chest.
When the thing plunges inside her, takes her innocence and she wails, my cock throbs.
“She’s so wet, isn’t she?” The hot sleeve of Lenora’s pussy grips me. “It’s how you always imagined she’d feel. All those nights you’d lie in your bed and imagine her getting mounted and railed by your sons. Her tight hole, full of cum.
I’m so deep inside her. She’s taking every inch like such a good girl. Her every breath is hot and greedy in my ear, whimpering my name.
“Now, you can breed her. Pump your brother’s little girl with all that cum you’ve been saving just for her. And she wants it, Uncle Marcus. Wants you, unloading your seed so deep her belly swells with your baby.”
God, the image of Lenora fat and round with my baby…
In my ear, her breathy moan echoes long and hungry.
“Don’t stop, Uncle Marcus. Your cock feels so good.”
I growl deep in my throat and fuck her hard. Slam into that greedy cunt until her whimpers are screams.
“Don’t call me that!”
Her giggles fill my ears. “But I like it. Like knowing my daddy’s big brother is pounding my virgin pussy. Going to fill me with his baby.”
Fuck … no!
But she’s gripping me so tight and, God, I can’t stop.
“Don’t stop. I’m cumming, Uncle Marcus. Harder. Fuck me.”
Her hole seizes and I feel the hot, sticky flood of her cunt gush down my cock. Soak my balls. Her filthy scream of, “Oh, please, Uncle Marcus!” echoes in my head and I cum in her pulsing channel.
I pump in her and flood her. It comes out of her greedy hole pink, tainted by her innocence.
“Look what you did,” she whines, legs wide for me to see the messy state of her opening. “Look how much cum you put in me, Uncle Marcus. I’m leaking. Just like your sons used to, but you fucked me all the way. I feel your seed so deep in my pussy.”
I’m hard all over again. Head dripping with the need to add more.
“Come here, Lenora. Clean your blood off my cock.”
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and smiles that seductive little smirk she used to give the boys when she’d tease them.
I watch her get onto all fours and crawl to me. I fist her beautiful hair and force that filthy mouth down my cock. My pretty hole groans with such sweet pleasure. Her tongue winds around the shaft and she sucks and licks me clean. Her brown eyes never leave mine as I use her throat.
“Turn and bend over.”
The sheets hiss as she turns on my bed and drops flat to the mattress. Round ass up, pussy wet and ready.
“Want this,” I breathe, gripping her hips. “Wanted this for so long.”
“Show me.”
I do.
I can’t stop.
I fuck her over and over again. I pump her with gallons of cum. Her belly swells with the weight and still I can’t stop.
I cum and I’m hard again and she’s begging to be used, and I obey.
Over and over, I take her.
Her pussy.
Her mouth.
Her ass.
And she screams my name and cums and I do it again.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You killed your sons so you could fuck their woman, didn’t you?”
Yes.