Chapter Forty
Cade
F all comes down on Hillcrest like a death sentence. The trees go bare, the lights grow foggy, and even the red brick of the buildings fade to take on a gray pallor. The autumnal leaves that blanket the campus aren’t vibrant hues of orange and yellow, but a muted brown, the shade of dried blood. It’s a mournful sight that makes me wish for winter when the snow can white out the gloomy scene.
That’s why I growl as I let Sky slip a heavy black cloak over my head and down my shoulders. I’m already exceptionally anxious. We’re in her room, the dismal sun coming through the window barely a comfort now that it’s after four p.m., by ourselves. Ruby has fucked off to one of the other girl’s room’s, but it’s only a short reprieve.
Because tonight, we’re all descending into my forest.
I’ve fought this ridiculous Halloween party for a week. I should be guarding my shack—no telling if a bunch of drunk idiots will stumble upon it while traipsing through the woods. That ax can only take out one person. If there’s more, I’m screwed. I also don’t think it’s wise to taunt the skull-faced fuck with Sky, back in the woods where everyone will be wearing masks. But she’s a brand of stubborn that makes me want to tear my hair out. And if I have to choose between guarding her or my shack…
I don’t even know how we became me, Sky, Ruby, Callie, Lana, and Bobby, but it’s enough to make me want to dig a hole and crawl into it.
Or dig a hole big enough to put all of them into it.
I can’t decide.
Sky presses a palm into my chest so she can stand on her toes and reaches behind me to pull the hood of the cloak over my head. At least there will be comfort in having a hood. If she chose this costume for me with that in mind, or if it’s simply a coincidence, I’m not sure, but I’m grateful.
She leans down and gets onto her knees at the foot of her bed, bending over to reach her arms under. My agitation wanes for a moment as I admire her from behind. Jesus, maybe this is why I’m standing here letting her dress me up like a doll. I’m a fucking slave to her appeal, salivating for another taste. But we’ve fallen into a pattern that doesn’t include my shack. It’s just too risky. The crate under my work bench has begun to overflow, looking awfully suspicious. My refusal to take her back there has left me with a hard on that even our secluded library sessions can’t relieve.
But, Jesus, if the books on those shelves could talk, they would be able to recite the slopes and planes of our bodies with crude detail. Not to mention give a scandalized retelling of all the places I’ve run my tongue. No matter how long she lets me get on my knees between her thighs, it’s never enough. I could drink her till I drowned, and even then I would rise from the dead just to do it all over again.
I’m throbbing with barely contained arousal as Sky stands up and hands me a plastic scythe. I roll my eyes and take the damn thing.
So, I’m the grim reaper.
How I didn’t see that coming is beyond me.
She steps back to take me in, and then frowns at whatever she’s seeing. I can’t help but do the same, my lips pulling down into a grimace. It’s actually grossly annoying. If she’s smiling, I’m smiling, a bitter tasting thing that makes me drag a hand over my mouth in a futile attempt to wipe it away. And if she’s angry, even slightly, I become an inferno with no outlet, burning from the inside out. But if she frowns, if anything makes her sad, god, my heart stops beating, going cold in my chest like it’s desiccated itself, and my face reflects the pain unwittingly.
I don’t even know who I am anymore.
“What’s wrong?” I huff, desperate to fix whatever it is before my heart turns to ash.
“It’s just a bit… realistic.”
Realistic? I scoff and turn to look in the mirror. It’s just a cheap costume. A black mantle and a polymer prop. But when I see my reflection, I realize she might be right. There’s something unsettling about the wispy nature of the black fabric, the way it blends with my hair, matches the hollows under my cheekbones, and drapes me in cold shadows. The scythe, while not my weapon of choice, adds a doom that matches my eyes, aligning with the malevolence I promise to make good on.
My lip twists up nefariously.
I like it. I like it a lot.
“Are you scared of me, Sky?” I turn and quickly trap her in my shrouded arms.
Her innocent little brows pinch together as she looks up at me with round eyes. If I manifest all her emotions, I wonder what her fear will do to me.
“No.” She adopts a scowl.
“Hm,” I chuckle, brushing a thumb along her jaw.
She’s smart, knowing better than to show fear in the presence of a predator, but I know it’s a facade. One I want to shatter.
Tossing the scythe aside, I hoist her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around my waist before I swiftly cage her on the bed. Her breath hitches, gorgeous hair fanning out around my angel like a halo.
“How about now?”
She gulps, but finds her words quickly. “The only thing I’m scared of is Martha catching us. We aren’t supposed to be on the bed.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t do this then…” I lock a hand around her thigh and slide it up.
She lets out a hum that instantly gets me hard. I have to grind my teeth to stay the one in charge here. With one well pitched moan, she can undo me and turn the tables. It happens more often than not.
She squeezes her eyes shut as I slip a finger under her panties. She’s slick with need, so perfectly wet that it takes everything in me not to make her straddle my face. But I push aside my own primal need and press inside her.
Her eyes pop open and jerk to the open door. “Cade, we can’t.”
“That’s not what it feels like.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I push deeper, cutting her off with pleasure.
“Oh.” She melts momentarily, and I press my forehead to hers, hopeless to experience the ecstasy with her.
“You can’t fight it, can you?” I kiss her lips, trying to taste it.
“We could get expel—”
I up the tempo of my finger, silencing her breathless dispute. Her hips buck into my hand, and I groan, my muscles shaking. I want her so badly. I want it to be my dick that her pussy is tightening around.
I insert another finger, pumping against the panic in her eyes as she gapes back at the hallway. She’s probably trying and failing to imagine all the repercussions that could come with getting caught. It’s lost on me why she’s so worried about getting in trouble. No one is getting expelled for a little hand relief. I’ve seen worse on this campus.
But it is delectable, watching her struggle.
I think her fear is fuel on the fire of my soul.
“Admit you’re afraid I’m going to drag your soul to hell,” I growl, playing into her fear of me being the grim reaper.
I’m fully aware that I would never be allowed to do such a thing. Heaven has a claim on her that no amount of my deviant nature can thwart. But it’s enticing, nonetheless.
“Admit it,” I demand, as she teeters on the edge of her orgasm.
She clutches my cloak, shuddering and breaking apart with a well-contained bite of her lip. A rumble of irritation vibrates in my chest. I hate that she can reign in her screams. Whatever force she’s really worried about has her tightly in its grasp, and it’s not boot camp Martha.
“You cheated.” I sulk, twirling her hair between my fingers as she comes down from her high. “You never conceded.”
In her fleeting tranquility, she lets me continue to hold her despite the open door, and reaches up to push my hood back.
“I told you, I’m not afraid of you.” She looks tragically into my eyes, and gently swipes a lock of my hair off my forehead. “I would go anywhere with you, even hell.”
I guess that’s a good thing, considering that’s right where I’m going after graduation.