Dead of Summer

Chapter 34

As I’d predicted, the storms don’t pass quickly or quietly. By the time we’ve herded the kids into the cabins, rain lashes against the windows and slatted roofs, and most of the kids are at least varying degrees of nervous worrying about whether they’re going to get blown away in the night.

Well, except Melody, of course. She doesn’t seem to mind at all, and tells her cabin mates that she knows for a fact nothing will happen, so they should enjoy the storms.

Naturally, I’m pretty impressed with her. But I always am when she shows the kind of maturity that’s beyond her years.

The kind that makes me wonder if Kayde is right.

The wind moans against the outside of the cabin as I sit on my bed, thumbing through the old horror novel that I’ve read ten times before, at a minimum. Though if I’m honest with myself, it’s more like twenty.

And, as per usual, I can’t get Kayde out of my head. It’s stupid that he occupies this much of my time, rather physically or just in my head, and I’m starting to think that I’m the one who’s fucking obsessed. Or at least, obsessed right along with him. But that’s a problem in itself, because I am nothing like Kayde Lane.

At least, I hope I’m not. If I am, then that definitely requires some closer inspection, and I curl my toes into my sheets at the prospect. Another peal of thunder rolls by overhead, and I can’t stop the way my shoulders stiffen, just a touch, before I relax again.

I really do like storms. But I can’t help the startle effect that thunder has on me when it’s loud enough to shake my entire being and I feel it in my very soul.

Somehow, the door opening doesn’t elicit the same reaction from me. I flip another page in my book, one knee up to my chest, as I see Kayde’s familiar shape striding through my cabin door before closing it behind him.

I barely even blink. Not when he locks the door quietly, and not when he slips out of his wet shoes and socks.

“Shirt too,” I sigh, thumbing past another page. “You’re fucking soaked, Kayde.” I’m not even surprised. How can I be? He’s been pretty clear today about his intentions, and whether they’re true or not, I can’t exactly tell.

But I know he tends to orbit my cabin at night, whether that’s with the intention of kidnapping me away to the boathouse or to just stay here and keep me pinned down on my bed.

Though my toes curl at both options, and I can’t help but glance up at him as he surprisingly acquiesces to my request without complaint. His shirt joins his shoes on the floor, and when I meet his eyes, he hooks a thumb in his shorts, obviously offering to take them off too.

But I just give him the most withering glare I can manage and let out a breath. “You want something. Is this where you tell me your grand, villainous plan? Your idea for The Camp Crestview Slaughter Round Two? It’s gotta be new and improved, right?”

“Wouldn’t really need to be,” Kayde points out, crossing the small distance and sinking onto the foot of my bed. He moves to sit against the wall, perpendicular to the way I’m sitting, and without warning, drags my legs into his lap.

I can’t help but watch him, my attention completely pulled from the book I could read with my eyes closed. Not that Kayde seems to mind my attention, if he even notices. He presses his fingers against my ankles, slowly moving up my calves before I realize he’s working his fingers into my muscles to relieve any knots or stress.

A massage was definitely not what I was expecting tonight. Not in any way, shape, or form. It’s enough to make me stare at him blankly, unsure of what to think or do. I definitely don’t have it in me to pull my legs away from him. Not when this feels so damn good.

“There wasn’t exactly a lot of opposition before,” Kayde points out, eyes flicking up to mine under his long lashes. “Just your desperation.”

“It worked,” I point out, twisting just enough to gently put my book back in the top drawer before I close the nightstand and settle back against my headboard once more. “You didn’t kill anyone.”

“It didn’t work because you were threatening.” Kayde’s voice is sticky-sweet, and he switches to my other calf, obviously catching my soft sigh of approval and appreciation. He’s way too good at this. Especially when he flexes my ankle in his grip slowly, carefully. “You were just desperate and really hot.”

“You think desperate is hot?”

“Nah.” His grin widens, going a little predatory. “I just think you’re hot, sweetheart.” Lightning forks outside of my window, followed closely by a long, loud crash of thunder that has me tensing on my bed.

“I’m not afraid of storms,” I repeat, refusing to look away from him. “I just jump easily.”

“I know,” Kayde assures me. “Seriously, you’re not telling me anything I wasn’t aware of before.”

But I make a face at him anyway, before mumbling, “You could at least pretend that you don’t think I’m a coward.”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Kayde’s words don’t seem mocking, but that doesn’t really tell me anything. His mask is impeccable, and I doubt even I can see through it when he’s really trying. It’s only when it slips that I can actually notice. And that’s not very often. “I don’t think you’re a coward, babe,” he goes on, getting to his knees. “Want to lie on your stomach for me?”

“No,” I reply blithely. “That feels dangerous.”

He just snorts, his eyes rolling with fond exasperation. “Well, fine. But I wasn’t exactly asking. You’ve been clenching your shoulders and rolling your neck all day like it hurts. So roll over.” When I still don’t move, Kayde’s smile gets that mocking-sweet edge to it, and I know I’m in trouble. Sure enough, before I can go anywhere, he drags me down the bed, making me flail as I pull my phone out from under my leg and toss it onto the nightstand before it can be in any danger.

Kayde chuckles under his breath, and a moment later I’m flipped over onto my stomach, his warm weight resting on my lower back and hips.

It’s…hotter than it should be, in all honesty. I groan at him, trying to sound annoyed, but my heart flutters in my chest and I pull my pillow down to bury my face in it in order to avoid looking at him.

“Moan a little louder, baby.” Kayde laughs softly. “Let me know how you really feel.” He shoves my shirt up and up until he can manhandle me enough to get it over my head. “No bra? Does that mean you’re not wearing any panties for me, either?”

“I’m sleeping,” I remind him, voice muffled. “Why would I wear anything under my clothes to bed?”

“Don’t know.” His fingers skim down my spine, drawing a shiver from me that has nothing to do with the roll of thunder outside. He drags at the waistband of my shorts until it’s very clear that I’m not wearing anything under them. “I think you should stop wearing anything to sleep in period, if you want my opinion.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you get it anyway.” Before I can respond, Kayde’s warm hands land on my shoulders, and he smooths them down my back, before pushing the heels of his palms into my muscles and dragging them back up.

Fuck,he shouldn’t be so good at this. “This is where you stab me or something,” I mutter into my pillow. “Or, like I said, villain monologue at me about round two of the Camp Crestview Massacre.”

His sigh seems…frustrated. It makes my scalp prickle as he leans over to brush a kiss against my shoulder, before nipping punishingly at my throat hard enough to draw a soft yelp from me. “Not going to kill anyone unless you want me to,” Kayde murmurs softly, just after the next roll of thunder outside.

“Why?” It’s definitely the wrong thing to ask, and I make a face against my pillow at my inability to keep my damn mouth shut. “No, forget i?—”

“Because I don’t want to.” I can feel his shrug as he situates himself on my hips once more, and it’s so hard to think about anything other than how close he is to, well, everywhere I want him.

It’s been a week and three days since I’ve fucked Kayde, and normally I wouldn’t even give a damn or be counting the days, weeks, or months since I’d last had sex. But somehow, Kayde’s gotten me addicted to him. And I have yet to find the cure for him, though I’d like to keep him in the dark about that for as long as humanly possible.

“I don’t need to,” Kayde admits, after a few beats of silence broken only by the rain. “Where’s the fun in killing kids who can’t fight back when it’s much more of a challenge to make you love me? By the end of the week, I want to see it on your face. I want to know that while you might not feel the same things for me I do for you, that you know you’re stuck with me and you’re thrilled about it.”

My stomach twists, and I turn my head just enough to look at him over my shoulder. “Is that all it is this week?” I find myself asking; my mouth betraying my thoughts. “A challenge before you leave again?”

Kayde hesitates, his palms freezing on my skin. But as he searches my eyes, he leans down enough to brush a ghost of a kiss against my lips. “Summer, the challenge is the icing on the cake. And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that you’re stuck with me forever.”

“Says you.” I twine my ankles, knees coming off the bed just to thump back down sullenly. “Pretty sure you can’t stop me from dating someone who isn’t you.”

“Pretty sure I could kill anyone you try to date,” Kayde replies quickly, his voice too sweet.

“That’s…not funny.” My stomach twists again, coldness tingling up my spine. “You shouldn’t make jokes like that, Kayde. Even if they’re not true.”

“Who says they aren’t true, Summer?” He stops with another sigh, and taps my shoulder to get my attention once more. “I was going to kill a camp full of kids because I was bored,” he reminds me, a grin curling on his lips. “What in the world makes you think I wouldn’t kill any man who laid his hands on what’s mine?”

“I’m…” I lick my lips, half at a loss for words. “I’m not a possession, you know.”

“Of course you’re not. But you’re still mine, Summer.” His fingers dig deliciously into my shoulders and he leans over me to press harder against my tense muscles. “All mine, for the rest of your life. I don’t really believe in an afterlife, by the way. But if there is one, you’re mine there as well.”

“What if we go to separate places in the afterlife?” I ask, scoffing a low laugh. “Last I checked, heaven isn’t for murderers.”

“Then I’ll just have to drag you down to hell with me.”

A shiver shoots straight down my spine to the space between my thighs that I’m trying to ignore, and I know there’s no way Kayde doesn’t feel the way my thighs clench under his weight.

“Oh yeah?” he purrs, confirming my worries. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to stop being so perfect for me eventually, you know. Or don’t. I don’t mind drowning deeper in you.”

“You’re being dumb.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say, and I shift under him as much as I can while his palms massage into my back. “You’ll get bored of me.”

“I would’ve already.”

“You’ll find someone who likes murder.”

“I’m not a fan of competition.”

“Yes, you are—” I stop myself mid sentence, but the damage is done. Kayde’s hand pauses on my back, and he walks his fingers up my spine expectantly.

“Go on.” There’s a warning in his voice. Somehow, I worry that he knows what I’m going to say before I can even get it out of my mouth.

“Do I have to?”

“You’re the one who started it.” He strokes his fingers down my spine, then walks them back up again. He doesn’t massage my muscles like he’d been doing, but he does seem content to repeat that strange, tickling motion over and over again. “So finish it.”

I hate it when he sounds like that. I hate the subtle threat, the promise, and the arrogance in his tone that he seems to be able to turn on at will. My fingers flex in the pillow and I shift to look at him again, eyeing as much of his face as I can see in the dim light of the night stand. “Can I turn over first?”

His smile curls into something just a touch crueler, and one of his hands buries itself in my hair, obviously holding me in place. “Nah, I don’t think so,” he tells me, after a moment of theatrical contemplation. “You can stay right where you are and finish what you were going to say.”

I know I could lie to him. Not that he’d believe me, since that’s one of his stupid super powers. But I could try, or try to distract him.

Or I could if he’d let me move. But it dawns on me that maybe it’s all part of his plan. If he keeps me here—uncomfortable and squirming and unable to do something that might pull his attention from the words I’d stupidly spoken—then I really do have no choice but to tell him.

“Promise you won’t get mad first,” I demand, heart fluttering in my throat. I’m not sure this is going to go well, since I’d basically spied on him and looked into his past without his permission.

“I could never be mad at you, sweetheart.”

“Not even if I ran you over with a semi?”

“Stop trying to drag this out.” His fingers scrape against my scalp, his other hand still on my lower back with his fingers splayed.

So I suck in a breath and close my eyes, not wanting to see his face. For good measure I bury my face in the pillow, knowing it’ll be harder for him to understand what I’m saying. “I looked you up,” I mumble, my words half-obscured by the pillow and the rain. “During the time between camp sessions.”

“Oh yeah?” he massages my scalp rewardingly, like I’ve done something good. “What did you find?”

“You know what I found.”

“Maybe,” Kayde allows, humming thoughtfully. He removes his hand from my hair, both of them going back to smooth down my spine before he massages my tense muscles once more. Seriously, he shouldn’t be so good at this. “But sometimes new articles pop up about me. It takes a little while for my dad to get the take down notices to go through, if they’re bad enough. So maybe you read something unflattering about me.”

“Like your swim times?” I quip, looking at him over my shoulder just as lightning flickers through the room.

That draws a barking laugh from him, though he bites down on his lip with a grin to muffle the sound. “You know how to go for the throat, don’t you, babe? My swim times were immaculate, thank you very much.”

“So why’d you stop? The articles all said that you were amazing, and that you were being scouted for a college team. I saw one said you were the best swimmer in the state and you could’ve gone to any college on a scholarship. But you…didn’t,” I trail off lamely. I have no idea why he didn’t, only that he simply stopped swimming, according to the internet.

For a long few moments, Kayde is quiet. “What else did you find?” he asks, voice rough around the edges.

“That you were in a bus accident with your team. That it took days to find you, and that you were the only survivor. Did you…No, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business?—”

“Did I see their bodies? Yes, Summer. Did I have anything to do with the crash? No, absolutely not. Now, ask me what you really want to know.”

My mouth opens, then closes. I bite my lip and work the question around in my mouth before I finally get the nerve to whisper, “Did you kill anyone?”

Kayde leans down, the line of his body slowly pressing against mine. “Yes,” Kayde murmurs in my ear, one arm wrapping around my shoulders so he can lightly grip my throat. “Yes, Summer. I killed my best friend. How fucked up is that?”

“I don’t—Why did you?—”

“Because he begged me to. Because he was dying and there was nothing anyone could have done about it. Because he wouldn’t have made it past that first night, and he was in so much pain that he couldn’t stand it anymore. So I found a piece of glass and I slit his throat.” He kisses the side of my face lightly, and I feel myself relaxing into the pillow. That’s not…as bad as I was expecting. If anything, it was a mercy to his friend, and?—

“Now ask me who else I killed that day, baby girl.”

My breath catches, oxygen choking off in my lungs as I turn just enough to look at him. Thunder rumbles again, just as lightning strikes close enough, I swear I can feel it in my bones. The light on my nightstand flickers out, plunging us into complete darkness.

“N-no,” I stammer. “I don’t want to?—”

“Ask me who else I killed.” His free hand moves, going between us and shoving my shorts down my hips. When they’re closer to my knees, he presses flush against me again, and I realize instantly that his shorts have disappeared somewhere as well. He presses my thighs apart, sliding his fingers against my slit until he finds my clit, where he focuses enough of his attention to make me whine.

“Please don’t fuck me while you tell me about killing someone,” I protest, turning enough to grip his hair and sink my fingers into it. “That’s tasteless, Kayde.”

“I killed my co-captain.” He’s obviously ignoring me, and as he talks, he slides one finger into me when he’s done stroking my clit. “He was such a good swimmer. An amazing athlete. He was the only one in the state who could come close to beating me, and he would’ve had a great career in college too, if he’d wanted.” He sounds like he’s off in a memory, and I close my eyes against the blackness pressing against them.

“Why would you kill him? Wasn’t he your friend?”

“No, baby, he wasn’t my friend.” He adds a second finger and I whimper, surprised at how easy it is for him to fuck them into me. “I hated his fucking guts. So I dragged his insides all over the clearing where the bus crashed and made it look like a horrific, terrifying accident.”

My mind races with that knowledge, and I barely realize he’s pushed another finger into me until he’s fucking me on all three, as whimpers and soft sounds falling from my lips with abandon. “What did he do to you?” I ask finally, forcing the words out of my mouth. “H-he had to have done something, right? To make you kill him?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Kayde huffs in my ear, his fingers suddenly leaving me and causing me to hiss at the loss. “He did something to me, all right.” Kayde sits up just enough that he can slip my shorts the rest of the way off, and when he kneels between my thighs, my breath catches at the feeling of him sliding against my inner thigh.

Deftly Kayde tugs one of my pillows free from the head of the bed, and shoves it under my hips before his fingers dig into my thighs, dragging them apart. I don’t have time to protest, or really do more than grip the pillow still in my possession before Kayde slams into me, dragging a soft shriek from my mouth that I muffle with my pillow.

“He beat me in a race,” Kayde growls in my ear before pulling out until just his tip still spreads me open, then slams into me again, nearly shoving me up into the headboard as he fucks me. “He lived instead of dying in that fucking crash.” His laugh is harsh in my ear, and I twist enough to keep my grip on his hair, surprised he doesn’t mind at how harshly my nails dig into his scalp.

“Stop,” I breathe, trying to see his face in the dark. When his movements slow, I make a noise of derision in my throat and pull his face closer to mine. “Not that, you ass. Stop telling me about your fucking co-captain.”

“But you brought it up.” His voice is full of savage glee, and lightning illuminates his face to show me the look of delight on it. “You’re the one that asked. You were the one who looked me up.”

He has me there, and I whimper softly, burying my face deeper in my pillow as his hand slips around under me, fingers going back to tease at my clit.

I’m not going to last long when he’s so good at fucking me. He knows just what angle drives me crazy, and how I like it when he plays with my clit.

And he’s definitely aware of my newfound appreciation for his fingers around my throat. The storm seems to egg us on, getting louder and fiercer around us, though it might be all in my head. Especially when all I can do is focus on the feeling of his cock thrusting into me, his fingers on my clit, and the way he cuts off my air just when I need it the most.

Though I’m also trying to block out the words in my ears that he won’t stop hissing against me, as if he needs me to know how it happened.

I took a piece of glass, Summer.

The same one I used to kill my friend.

He begged me not to die.

I begged him to make it look good.

“There’s something wrong with you,” I choke out at last, from beneath his restricting fingers, just as my release swells and nearly breaks hard enough to send me into orbit. But even as I clench and shudder around him, falling apart on the next crash of thunder, I can’t miss the soft giggle in my ear as he slams into me once, twice, and then presses himself deep into me, fingers tightening in my throat and not letting go.

“I’ve got a pain in my sawdust,” Kayde croons in my ear, sending shivers down my spine as I remember the first time he’d said that to me. “That’s what’s the matter with me.” He punctuates it with a particularly sharp, although short, thrust that has me choking around his fingers.

“Something is wrong with my little inside…And I’m just as sick as can be.” He collapses onto his side, rolling me with him and keeping me pressed flush to him. Kayde repeats the words, and more that might be another verse of the song that never fails to freak me the fuck out when it comes from Kayde.

“Kayde…” I whine beneath his fingers, the echoes of my orgasm still rattling through me. “Please, I can’t—” He lets go just as I see black spots swimming in my vision, and I take a deep breath just as he drags me to his chest as close as he can, a peal of thunder making me shiver.

“I’ve got you, Summer,” he murmurs, as if part of the reason I’m shaking isn’t because of him and all the things he’d said.

“I’ve got you, baby. And I promise, I’ll never let you go.”