Chapter 47
Katana
The bathroom mirror is streaked with old age, the silver peeling around the edges, but it’s enough to see my reflection. Enough to view the scab where I clamped down during the shocks. The skin is torn and swollen, evidence of the way pain worms its way into places it shouldn’t.
I drag my fingertip across it, hating the reminder. Hating how broken I still look.
A shadow stirs behind me.
When I lift my gaze, Micah stands there, silent and still. The white, hollow-eyed Michael Myers mask covers his face. His dark eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he cocks his head.
My chest lurches, then locks. My lungs forget what to do.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
The words cut straight through the mask, through the silence, through me.
My heart gallops and my lip trembles. Behind the horror, behind the game, I see the truth. He’s choosing to delight in my fantasies, choosing to play with me.
A tremor of laughter shakes my chest. “Michael Myers. My favorite villain.” My voice is raspy, shaky, but real.
For the first time since the basement, he sees the hunger flickering in my hazel eyes.
“He has nothing on me. I’m your favorite villain.” His voice is low and rough, yet it slides over my skin like silk. He lifts the pocketknife, the blade gleaming dull under the single lightbulb. “Better run, little murderess.”
For a long, thrumming second, I stare at him. Testing him.
Then instinct sparks, and I whip around, my elbow catching his ribs as I dart past.
A laugh—an actual, genuine laugh—bursts from my chest as I shove the cabin door open and run into the darkness.
The night presses close, black trees hemming me in, swallowing me whole. My breath clouds the chilly October air in white puffs. My heart hammers against my rib cage. My legs burn as I run. I know I should be terrified, but the laughter spilling from my lips is real, sharp, and wild. Free.
He’s behind me. While that should scare me, it doesn’t. My monster surrounds me, keeping me safe.
Branches snap, as loud as gunfire. My head whips over my shoulder. The mask glints in the dark, pale and blank, his dark eyes peering through the holes. His pace is leisurely as he chases me. He wants me to run, knowing he’ll catch me.
I spin back around, my heart lurching, my legs tearing through the underbrush. My lungs sting. My teeth bite into my lip, reopening the split from the shocks. I taste blood, copper, and heat. It only makes me run faster.
The crack of footsteps on branches gains on me. I don’t turn around, knowing it’ll slow me down.
An arm wraps around my waist like an iron band, jerking me off my feet.
I shriek—half fear, half delirious laughter—kicking against nothing as my back collides with his chest. His growl vibrates against my spine, low and guttural. “Mine.”
His words fill me with joy, but still I thrash, his heat cutting through the chill in the air. He bends his head, teeth grazing my throat as he lifts the mask. My breath shatters into fragments. His lips—hot and rough—find my pulse point, biting until I gasp his name.
“Micah—”
He rips the mask off, shoving it into his pants pocket.
He spins me around, his mouth devouring mine, violent and desperate, every ounce of silence he’s carried poured into the kiss.
His hands fist in my stolen shirt, pulling me flush against him.
My nails bite his flannel-covered shoulders, clinging like I might drown without him.
When he finally tears his mouth away, he breathes like a beast. “I could take you here,” he growls, forehead pressed to mine. “I should.”
“Do it.”
His dark chuckle fills my ears, echoing off the trees. Instead, he pushes me to my knees and rips open the denim jeans I stole for him. His hard cock springs from his boxers when he pulls them down, nearly hitting my lips.
“So impatient.” He stares down at me, irises blending with the darkness surrounding us. “Suck me, little murderess. Show me how much you love my cock.”
My hand is already wrapping around the base of him. I stare at his long, thick cock. I’ve had it inside me before, which was intimidating. Putting him in my mouth is even more nerve-racking.
His finger grazes my cheek. “You can take it.” The confidence burning in his eyes empowers me.
I stroke him from base to tip and back. Then I lick the pre-cum from his tip, moaning at his salty, musky taste. He hisses, those dark eyes watching me. I grin before opening my mouth wide and stuffing as much of his cock inside as I can.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his hand wrapping around my hair. “That’s it, little murderess.”
I suck him deep, gagging on him, my eyes watering. His cock thickens from the broken, choking sounds, a smirk curling his lips.
I pull back, gasping for air. It doesn’t last before he’s dragging my mouth back onto his dick, thrusting himself deep. “Breathe through your nose,” he commands. His advice helps keep my gag reflex in check, and I relax around him.
“That’s it.” He pulls out to the tip, then pushes back inside. “Suck that cock like a good fucking girl.”
A moan slips free as I look up at him, delighted by the pleasure on his face. By his words that praise me. And knowing the mask is in his back pocket is the icing on the cake.
He pumps in and out of my mouth, fucking me like I’m his toy. And I relish every moment of it, trusting him completely.
“Fuck, yeah.” His hips begin to piston, and a guttural moan rumbles through him before he whispers, “So fucking tight and wet. I love your mouth.”
My jaw is stretched as wide as it can go, tears roll down my cheeks, mixing with the saliva pooling from the sides of my mouth, yet I’ve never felt sexier than I do right now.
My hands stroke up and down his powerful thighs, then roam around to his ass, squeezing it, wanting him to come in my mouth.
Instead, he pulls out of me with a ragged breath. “Not yet. I’m coming inside you.”
Somehow, he manages to pull his pants up around his hard cock, then reaches down and scoops me up like I weigh nothing.
I squeal as he throws me over his shoulder, my fists pounding on his back. “Put me down!”
He slaps my ass, hard enough to make me yelp. “Not a chance.”
I wriggle, laughing and cursing as he carries me through the dark. The cabin rises out of the trees like something waiting for us, crooked and looming. He kicks the door open, wood groaning in protest, and strides inside.
The heat in the small space wraps around us.
He sets me down, my back hitting the rickety table.
The wood groans under the impact, dust rising from its cracks like the cabin itself is exhaling.
His hands cage me in, eyes burning black.
For one beat, he just stares at me—like he can’t believe I’m real. Alive. His.
Then he breaks.
His mouth crashes into mine, all teeth and heat. My legs wrap around his waist. His hands roam over my body, frantic, possessive, as if he’s been denied the ability to touch me for far too long. My fingers shake when I reach for him, but it’s not fear—it’s hunger.
“I’ll never let you go,” he growls against my mouth, raw and feral. “Not now. Not ever.”
And I believe him.
I’m not letting go of him, either. God help me, I can’t imagine life without him.
The cabin groans around us as he presses me harder against the table, the storm inside him spilling into me. Every kiss, every grip, every ragged breath feels like survival. Like we weren’t meant to live through Black Hollow, but here we are—burning alive in each other’s arms.
The table creaks beneath me, wood groaning like it might split, but I don’t care.
His mouth is everywhere—biting, devouring, branding me with each brutal kiss.
My shirt tears when he yanks it over my head, the fabric ripping down the seam.
His growl rumbles low in his chest, animalistic, satisfied, like he’s been waiting his whole life to destroy the barrier between us.
“Micah,” I gasp, my nails carving into his back. My voice is wrecked, breathless. “Please—”
He freezes for half a heartbeat, eyes black and wild. “Tell me,” he rasps, the words broken glass. “Tell me you’re mine.”
My chest heaves, tears and hunger warring in my throat. “I’m yours. Always.”
The sound he makes is pure possession—something between a groan and a snarl.
He scoops me into his arms like I weigh nothing and slams me against the cabin wall.
The cedar boards bow, dust sifting down like ash, the scent sharp and raw.
The world narrows to his hands gripping my thighs, his mouth at my throat.
He bites down hard, and I cry out, the sting mixing with heat.
“You’re beautiful,” he growls against my skin. “My little murderess.”
His hand slides beneath the stolen waistband of pants that don’t belong to me, finding my bare skin. My legs lock tighter around him, dragging him closer. The blunt press of his hard cock against my pussy makes me dizzy.
He lifts me again, the boards creaking beneath his weight—this time throwing me onto the narrow bed shoved against the wall. The springs shriek under the impact. He towers over me, his chest heaving, shadows cutting across his body. For one ragged beat, he just stares down at me.
Then he snaps.
His hands tear at the rest of our clothes with frantic urgency, every layer ripped or shoved aside like it’s a crime. My breath stutters, body arching as his mouth finds every scar, every mark, kissing them like scripture, like proof I’m his.
And when his tongue circles my clit and he thrusts two large fingers inside me, I gasp, my back arching from the mattress.
My hands move to his hair, nails digging into his scalp, pulling him closer.
He moans, his tongue flicking over my clit faster, driving me insane.
His index and middle fingers plunge in and out of me, stretching me for his big cock.
I tremble and shake around him, practically ripping the hair from his scalp, but he doesn’t mind at all.
I don’t even have time to say a word before the orgasm barrels over me. I scream his name so loudly I fear the ancient cabin will collapse around us. Fireworks explode behind my lids as he keeps licking and pumping me through it until I finally still.
Breathlessly, I stare up at him as he moves over me. His eyes bore into mine as the head of his dick nudges my entrance. “You look so beautiful when you scream.”
He thrusts deep inside me, and the world shatters. My scream echoes off the walls, high and broken, but it’s not fear—it’s release. His name tears from my throat over and over as he drives into me, relentless, furious, worshipping and destroying me all at once.
“Mine,” he growls, over and over, a chant that burns into my bones.
His grip on my hips is bruising, claiming, but his mouth is reverent against mine, kissing me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive.
The smell of cedar and dust mixes with our sweat as we combust inside the cabin, the old boards groaning like they can’t hold us.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, dragging him closer. “Always yours,” I choke out, and the words detonate something inside him.
His thrusts grow harder, rougher, and the bed slams against the wall in a steady rhythm like a song. The cabin shakes with us, dust sifting down, but nothing can touch the cocoon of heat and madness we’ve built. His darkness pours into me, and mine rises to meet it.
I don’t even care if the whole damn cabin collapses around us. I just need him inside me, possessive and ownership burning in his dark eyes.
“You’re my world,” he rasps, pumping into me. “My life. My fucking soul mate. My every damn thing.”
His words have me clinging to him, my pussy squeezing him like a vice. I nod, sweat trickling down my forehead. “You’re everything, my monster.”
We break together, and it’s not just release—it’s obliteration. My scream mingles with his guttural roar, a symphony of pain turned into pleasure, survival twisted into something feral and sacred.
After, he doesn’t move right away. He collapses half on top of me, his chest heaving, forehead pressed to mine. His voice is shredded when he whispers, “You’re everything. My calm. My storm. My forever.”
Tears burn hot in my eyes. I cup his cheek, forcing him to see me, to believe me. “I love you, Micah. Including the monster in you.”
He shudders, a raw sound tearing from his chest, and kisses me again—slow this time, as if the violence has bled out and all that’s left is need.
In that broken cabin, on Halloween night, with the mask in the pocket of his pants discarded on the floor, I realize the truth. We didn’t just escape Black Hollow.
We became something worse.
Something better.
Monsters in love.