Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Wren
Hayloft II - Mother Mother
I ’m woken up by the sound of Little Sausage yapping next to me. My heart sinks the second I become aware of my own body. Peach isn't next to me. I know that because I fell asleep holding her so tightly, I was worried she wouldn't be able to breathe. But at least no one could take her from me. I wasn't going to not keep her close after I found her in that secret room.
Something is off.
It's more than the fact that I can't feel her soft skin or smell her perfume. I feel strange. And I can smell blood on me. Did Peach bleed some more during the night?
My body cracks in all the wrong places as I move, lethargy dissipating until I can feel my whole self.
My hand is in a fist.
Wait.
My hand is in a fist.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I sit up quickly enough to make myself dizzy. And I notice Peach standing in front of my bed, showered, a towel around her body and one twisted in her hair. She's facing away from me, looking at my laptop open on the desk. A local news anchor is talking on the screen. She's holding a mic, standing in a familiar place. Squinting my eyes, I recognize the castle’s west quad. This is our campus. This is where there's a tunnel that leads to the room where I found Peach yesterday.
"The three bodies were found in the early hours on the Silver Falls University campus, which had already seen four murders since last summer. The number has now risen to seven, along with a student in the hospital who’s yet to wake up from his life-threatening injuries."
The journalist pauses as a group of students walk behind her, throwing dark looks at the camera, and she attempts to smile politely. If there's one thing the one percent hates, it's attention from the outside world. We prefer to stay in our bubble where everything is possible, and we don't want cameras here.
"Each of the men was found in their respective bedrooms. The police aren’t revealing everything, but they agreed to share information with us that they hadn’t before. According to the SFPD, it looks like we’re looking at a serial killer with a ritual. Not in the way they kill their victims, but with what they leave in their mouths and throats. The letters I, L, and U, from a Scrabble game. Could they be crimes of passion? We’ll keep you in touch with any new information we get. In the meantime, the police are calling out to any witnesses who could help with the investigation. Our condolences and prayers go to the families of Simon Dresner, Matt Robinson, and Byron Wallace."
Peach turns to me so slowly, I wonder if she'll ever look at me. Her face is pale, and she replaced the bandage I'd put on her cheek yesterday with a new one. The other wounds seem to have stopped bleeding, so she didn't cover them again. She's holding her towel tightly around her as her eyes drop to my fist.
"Open your hand, Wren," she says with a softness I've never heard from her.
I shake my head as anguish takes hold of me. I'm out of control. I remember nothing. Not even leaving this room. But there are dozens of Scrabble tiles scattered on my floor, because I was clearly searching for four I's, four L's, and four U's.
Slowly, I relax my fingers. They hurt from being held so tightly, for God knows how long. The piece of paper is bloody and, unsurprisingly, there are four names on it.
Dustin McCarthy
Simon Dresner
Matt Robinson
Byron Wallace
"Dustin isn't dead," Peach says, the blood draining from her face. "He isn't dead."
"Fuck," I rage as I throw the paper on the bed and run a hand across my face. "I'm losing it," I pant. "It's getting worse." My voice is barely above a rasp. "And now that fucker could wake up and ruin my fucking life."
Peach stays far from me by the end of the bed.
"Please," I say, distress dripping from the vowel. "Don't be scared of me."
"I'm not scared of you," she admits. "I needed protection from those men. Their Heras needed protection from them." Yet her voice is cold, the tone telling me to not try to approach.
"Trouble," I sigh. "I was so worried about you. Fuck, worry is an understatement. The fear I felt when I saw you…that's why it happened. I didn't want to. It's… It's that thing inside me."
"They got what they deserved. But you are getting what you deserve too, Wren. You lied to me, and you saving me doesn't make up for what you hid from me."
I take a deep breath, keeping my calm.
"I promise you, I was going to tell you. I just… Your heart broke the first time you got bad news regarding your biological parents. I didn’t have the strength to hurt you again. You don’t understand what seeing you in pain does to me."
"Then you’re selfish. What you didn’t want was to hurt yourself. Because keeping that from me broke my heart more than if you’d shared it and offered me comfort."
"I know," I rasp. "I’m sorry, and you need to let me make it up to you. Please."
"You can’t always just make up for things!"
That’s when despair hits me. And when I'm desperate, scared of losing her, scared of her not loving me …that’s when I do bad things. That’s when I tighten her leash.
So, instead of apologizing again, I ask, "How will you make up for killing the girl I was dating, Penelope?"
Her mouth drops, and she stumbles back from the shock.
"You want to talk about hiding things from each other? How will you make up for hiding from me that Hermes has been blackmailing you with a murder you never mentioned."
She shakes her head. The panic taking hold of her is making her stutter, and she's looking around the room, as if checking to make sure no one can hear us.
"H-how do you know?"
"You talk when you feel safe, baby," I say as I stand up. "And you were deeply vulnerable yesterday. Don't you remember? When I was taking care of you?"
God, I'm an asshole. I should be on my knees, begging her to forgive me for hiding the truth from her. Instead, I'm pulling out things I can use against her. Because apologies…she could refuse that. She could turn me down. But blackmail? That works every fucking time. And that's the only chance I have at keeping control.
Her chest trembles as she tries to breathe.
"Those men deserved to die," I say, pointing at the laptop screen. "Ania? What did she do except take my attention away from you?"
"I don't remember what happened," she defends. "We had an argument, but I don't know what happened after that. We argued at the house because I was being jealous. I was very drunk. She texted to apologize and then… Fuck, I was on drugs. I don't remember following her to the river…"
I laugh, but the sarcasm in it sounds more like despair. "Take it from me, Trouble. Not remembering doesn't mean you didn't do it."
She brings her fingers to her mouth. "But she—" Gulping, her gaze drops. "She was so sweet."
I'm close to her now, and I bring a hand to her cheek. "Now we've both got blood on our hands."
Her eyes are full of tears as she looks up. "She didn't deserve it. Those men, they deserved it. They fucking deserved it, Wren ." The way she hisses her sentence stirs confusion in my gut. An instinctive feeling that comes with her hatred for them. "But Ania…" She shakes her head. "All she did was love you before I realized how much I loved you. I will regret killing her for the rest of my life."
I open my mouth.
Stop.
Think.
Freeze.
"Oh." That's the only word that passes my lips, but she can read the understanding on my face.
On the outside, I'm blinking at her, steady and unmoving. On the inside, my thoughts are bouncing, adding up, problem solving. No wonder she’s so scared of Dustin waking up.
"You’re the kind of trouble I should have warned my heart and sanity about, Peach."
"And you’re the kind of trouble who will never control all of me."
I nod. Yes, don't I fucking know it now. Still, a pride I've never felt for her before rises in my chest. It's better than how I usually feel when she achieves something. It burns hotter, makes me giddy, could drive me to do anything for her. The way I feel right now, it's an attraction to danger, to the risk, the adrenaline. To my entire life hanging on by a thread and wanting to be the one to break it with a snap of my teeth. Just so I can fall deeper and deeper under Peach's manipulation. I’m not the one in control. I never was.
"Penelope," I purr, giddy from her genius. "When did you start killing people and pinning their murders on me?"
A slow smirk spreads on her face. It's the sexiest, most terrifying thing I've ever seen in my life.
"When you made me join a secret society that disrespects women. When I realized you could kill for me."
She takes a step closer. "When I understood that you don't remember when you do."
As she presses a hand to my chest, my heart forces itself against my ribcage. It recognizes its owner. It wants her to dig in and wrap her delicate murderer's hand around it.
"I learned your M.O.," she whispers. "The letters. The paper in your hand. You have no idea how scared I was when I killed the first one. I thought…what if Wren does remember? What if he knows he didn’t do it? But then you ran after me when I left the library, and I asked you if you'd killed Josh. You really thought you had." She laughs to herself, almost like this whole thing was too easy for her.
"Josh? That was you?"
"Well, it wasn't you, baby." She chuckles. "You were your own judge and jury that day, accusing yourself like there was no other option. But who's the reaper now?"
Her tongue darts to her lower lip. The purr in her voice lowering her tone is the most captivating sound I’ve ever heard.
"I think between making our deal and having me beg for orgasms, you forgot who I was, Wren. You lost yourself along the way. Take this as a lesson to know your place when it comes to me."
I swallow thickly, my body buzzing with a need for her that makes it hard to stay in place.
"Miles and his dad?"
She bites her lower lip and looks at me with beautiful innocent eyes under thick light-brown eyelashes.
I'm getting hard. I'm getting hard from my girlfriend manipulating me into thinking I killed people I hadn't. From her driving me completely crazy. I now understand all those women who fall in love with serial killers. If Peach was arrested, I, too, would send her letters telling her how much I love her.
"Simon, Matt, Byron…" I can barely articulate their names.
She rolls her eyes, annoyed that I can hardly believe this tiny fucking thing of a woman in front of me killed six full-grown men. When she realizes that, she huffs.
"Josh assaulted me in the maze. So, I took him by surprise like he did. Late at night when he was going home drunk. He walked past the library, and I was there, waiting, lurking. He couldn't defend himself. I strangled him, and I put the letters down his throat. And then I wrote his name on a piece of paper and put it in your hand while you were sleeping."
My hand reaches up, caressing her arm, her shoulder, clamping the back of her neck. I can hardly breathe from how aroused I am.
"I watched Miles and Paul Ellson rape that Hera, telling her that it was because she cheated on her Shadow. And when I tried to stop them, they attempted to push me into that room to do the same to me." She continues, her gaze strong and vengeful. "You had already weakened them, so all I had to do was wait for Paul to drive his son back to campus. Got them in the parking lot. I even used your knife."
My other hand comes to her cheek with an increasingly violent need, and I bring her even closer to me.
"Keep going," I growl and press my hips against her.
"Those four who tortured me were the best." She smirks. "Because I was feeling weak, and I was hurting. And it was so hard to get out of the safe space you created for me in your arms. You'd just saved me, and I was going to put four more murders on you. But at a point when I thought I wasn't capable of doing it, I got a message from one of the Heras who was with me in that room. I know her from cheer. She apologized for not doing anything to help me."
Her voice becomes quiet, but her smile is peaceful.
"Yesterday was the best, because I was helped by other women who were pushed so far, they were ready to kill. I told her to contact the others, and all they had to do was give me their addresses, and when they went to bed with their Shadows, leave the front door or their bedroom unlocked. They were hurting. I didn't want to ask anything of them but the minimum. Just leave it unlocked ."
Her nostrils flare as her eyes shine with tears. Jaw tightening, she pushes the rest of her sentence past her gritted teeth. "And all of them did."
I wipe the tear that falls with my entire palm, keeping her tightly in my hold.
"Men should be more careful of the women who take their shit silently. They suffer and smile through injustice. They suffer and watch men enjoy their tears. They suffer and suffer and suffer . And one day… boom. "
She looks like the devil. She’s beautiful.
"You took on a fight not only to protect yourself," I say, in awe, "but the other Heras too."
"Never forget that women who fight back get nothing out of it. They stand their ground against fear, threats, manipulation, not for themselves, but for all the other women around them. No woman has ever shouted that they’re fighting back because it’ll fix whatever they’ve endured. No. It’s always 'for other women out there.' And none of you men will ever know what that’s like. You don’t protect us. We protect ourselves."
"I hurt you," I rasp. "I made you submit, and you let me live." There's an excitement in my tone I can't control. She's a serial killer…and she chose to let me keep my life.
"There's only one difference between you and those men, Wren," she explains, softening. "At the end of the day, with you, I know I always have a choice. Because no matter what, you will never hurt me. You said it yourself. And that doesn't only apply to you being a murderer. It's in the safe space you created for me, for both of us. I will never forget that you're not the one who invited me to the initiations. You asked me, I said no, and you left it, no matter how much it hurt you. You're not the one who dragged me into this. Choice. That's what you've given me. That's the difference between you and them. I never did anything I didn't want to do deep down when it comes to you."
"I love you," I whisper. "You used me. I thought I was losing my mind, Trouble. But fuck , I'm in love with you."
"You still love me?" She smiles as she grabs hold of my wrist and forces me to let go of her.
My arms fall by my sides as she steps back.
"You're in love with the woman who drove you mad?"
She presses her back against the desk behind her and slightly opens the towel by her side, showing me a glimpse of her perfect pussy.
"Prove it," she sneers. "Crawl to the woman who owns you, Wren."
My heart can barely beat anymore. My jaw drops open, and I lick my lips. She thinks this is going to deter me? I would crawl all the way to hell to save her, only to realize she's the one ruling the darkest depths of it.
I would kiss the ground of the kingdom she rules.
I would kneel beside her throne for the rest of my life if it meant she allowed me to be hers.
I drop to the floor, putting my palms flat in front of me, and as I crawl to the woman I've loved my entire life, I realize that my dick has never been harder.
Kneeling in front of her, I let her grip my hair with one hand as she spreads her legs.
"Do you know why I never doubted it was me killing those people?" I murmur, looking up at her.
She shakes her head silently as her eyes shine with lust.
"Because you're the love of my life, Trouble," I growl against her mound. "I would kill them all over again for you. And a hundred more. If you want to do it yourself, I’ll hide every single body you leave behind. And if you get caught, I'll take the blame. If your wish is to kill, I'll hand you the knife. If you need to hide from the law, I'll hide you. And if what you desire is to have me at your feet, I’ll kneel."
I inhale her and hear her little gasp, but she stays standing, strong. She still smells of the shower gel she just used, but it mixes with the faint scent of her desire.
On my knees, I use my hands to spread her lips apart, and I bring my tongue to her heat. She's soaking wet, and she tastes like nothing else in the world. She tastes of euphoric pleasure, undying love, lethal lust.
Her hand tightens in my hair when I trace lazy circles around her gorgeous clit. It's swollen, so needy and ready to be devoured. But before I put all my focus there, I run my tongue flatly from her entrance, through her lips, all the way to her clit. I repeat the gesture religiously, barely holding myself back from burying my face into her, because I want her to feel every second of my devotion. I kiss her, my lips coated in her wetness, and her hand in my hair becomes two.
"Fuck," I hear her gasp above me.
Needing more access, I take one of her legs and put it over my shoulder. She's less balanced, but I've got her. Always.
"Wren," she moans when I harden my tongue and repeatedly go over her clit. I press hard because that's how she likes it.
I know Peach by heart because she imprinted herself on my soul a long time ago. But discovering her body, learning every detail that makes her tic, has been a new passion in the last few weeks. She gave me access to her, and I had to prove I would never disappoint.
So I learned it all.
And not just the easy things, like the fact that she likes hard pressure on her clit while I'm licking her. There's so much more. There's how she moans if I play with her right nipple, but she can't breathe from pleasure if I pinch it harshly. Which drives me to pull at the towel with one hand and graze her taut stomach with my fingers until I find her nipple already hardened.
When I pinch, she freezes for a second, whimpering, before relaxing in my hold as her breathing stops and her wetness doubles.
That's my girl.
She pushes her hips against me, and I decide to pull out another weapon I put in my arsenal while I was discovering her body. Leaving her breast, I bring my hand between her legs from behind and my thumb to her entrance, pushing inside her. I soak my finger with her pleasure and drag it backward until I find her tight hole. When I rub it carefully, barely pushing in, her desperate moan encourages me as I keep licking her clit with careful slowness. I don't want her to fall over the edge just yet.
I bring my other hand to her slippery entrance, pressing two fingers inside her and languidly rub against her G-spot as my tongue accelerates in opposition.
"You're the most dangerous kind of murderer," I growl against her heat.
She tenses, trembling around me, and feeling her orgasm coming as her moans get shorter and sharper, I add, "You are a queen."
I pull away in the slightest.
Her hands tighten on my hair, gripping to the point of pain.
"Penelope baby?" I ask, making sure she feels my breath on her sensitive skin. "I do have a question."
"What?" she snaps above me, but when I move my fingers inside her, she melts under my touch, dripping onto my palm.
"What?" she repeats softly, like the good girl I know she can be.
It makes one feel incredibly powerful to tame a lioness. That's just the law of nature.
"Tell me, if I can make a queen beg…does that make me a god?"
The smugness in my voice would make her furious if I wasn't holding her one small movement away from an orgasm.
"Don't…" she pants. "Wren…"
"Answer."
I slowly push my thumb into her ass, making her knee buckle.
" Yes! " she whimpers. "Fuck, yes. It does."
I lick her slowly once more as a reward, but it's not enough.
"Then beg, baby. And scream at my altar when you come."
"Please," she moans as both my hands start moving again. All she's missing is my tongue one last time. "Please, please, God, please. "
I bury my face in her pussy, unable to hold back any longer.
It barely takes her a few seconds to scream out my name, becoming a trembling mess in my hold.
"Good little slut," I finally say against her skin.
And as much power as I have over her body right now, she's close to turning me into a teenager exploding in his pants.
I'm careful when I pull away, putting my hands on her hips and making sure she's stable before I stand up. The towel that was in her hair fell on my desk, and the other one is on the floor, so I pick it up as she catches her breath.
I kiss her as she tries to grab it, forcing my tongue inside her mouth as she gasps. She hums against me, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"That wasn't fair," she murmurs into the kiss.
"I'll teach you to top from the bottom one day if you're good."
She bursts into a laugh, throwing her head back as she pushes me away from her. "I love you, asshole."
"I love you too. And I thought… I thought I was cursed, Peach. That I would never change. But it turns out that after getting rid of those initiations' goons…I didn't kill anyone. And do you know what that means?"
She shakes her head.
"That I'm no monster when I'm with you."
Biting my lower lip, I smile, observing her so closely my eyes could burn. Like an idiot who thinks he can somewhat look at the sun.
There's a knock on the front door that’s too violent for me to ignore. Every single ounce of happiness in me disappears in a blink, and Peach catches it right away.
"What?" she murmurs.
"That’s the Circle."
I take a step back.
"You're not getting out of this room," I say. "I have to go."
The clock is ticking. Dustin could wake up at any time, tell the police who attempted to murder him. Worse. He could talk to the Circle. Not only will they not save a member if things go public, but they’ll also kill Peach.
Her brow pinches, eyes narrowing on me. "What do you mean, I'm not getting out of this room? Why?"
"You know why," I say calmly as I grab the key in the keyhole. "Dustin is alive. I need to protect you."
"Did you just learn nothing? I can protect myself."
She takes a step, then realizes she's still in nothing but a towel, but after a pause, she seems to decide it doesn't matter as long as she can get out.
I slam the door before she can leave, locking it just as she tries to open it.
"Open!" I hear the sound of her palm slapping against the door. "Wren, open this fucking door!" She sounds like she's body slamming into it now. "I'll fucking kill you!"
Yeah, I have no doubt about that.
"I'll be back. Do not go anywhere," I call back, as if she could go anywhere.