Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Rayna
The old lady pushes a ring into Dalton’s face as I toss my shirt to the floor and throw myself into his arms. She nearly topples over as he hugs me to his chest, so I reach out to steady her—and get a better look at that ring.
“It was a gift from my late husband,” she says.
She holds the glistening clump of diamonds toward me.
One round stone sits in the center, surrounded by a halo of smaller stones.
The band is scuffed from age, and the metal’s shine has worn away, but that almost makes it more special.
More . . . me. It’s something Dalton and I could never afford, not even if we decided to settle down and be normal.
It’s something beautiful and perfect.
It’s something I don’t deserve.
My smile fades as I push the ring back toward the old woman. “It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept that. We’re the reason your stables caught fire, and it wouldn’t be right.”
Never mind that we’re also about to kill her son and daughter-in-law.
She grins and pushes back. “You’re finally setting my grandson free. That more than makes up for it. As long as I have Mr. Fox?” She pats the animal’s head and sighs. “I think the stables will be okay without me. You just make sure you take good care of your squirrel, hmm? He’s special.”
She gives me a wink, then eases the ring into my hand. With that, she clutches the fox to her chest, gives the room one last look, and disappears through the doorway, gripping Samuel’s arm for stability as they hobble into the hall. The door clicks shut behind them, and then there were four.
“So?” Dalton says.
I open my palm and look down at the ring. “I mean . . . she really seemed like she wanted me to have it, so it’s okay, right?”
“No, not the ring, bones. Will you marry me? I’m dying, here.” He looks up at me, with all the hope in the world shining in his eyes.
Does he not know? Is he so unaware that there is only one answer to that question?
“Yes,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you. Now slide this ring onto my finger so we can celebrate!”
The ring eases over my finger, and it’s a near perfect fit. It’s a touch loose, but I’m dehydrated and starving to death after saving my boyfriend’s life. Well, fiancé now. Once we’re back on the road, eating and drinking as usual, I’ll fluff up a little and it will fit just fine.
I look at the ring and smile.
A loud knock comes from the foot of the bed, and I finally remember our single remaining audience member.
I rise from Dalton’s lap and step around the bed.
The mother lies on her side, still attached to the chair by her ankles.
Her wrists are nearly free, and the remaining eyelid speculum fell off when she crashed to the floor.
She still can’t close that left eye, though.
The tattered skin already looks dead and useless.
Dalton steps around me and rights the chair, then ties her wrists a little tighter. She screams something around a gap in the pillowcase, but we still can’t understand her.
“Have you heard of the Halloween Harvesters, lady? Do you know who we are and what we do?” Dalton motions for me to join him in front of the woman.
His arm glides around my bare waist, and he dips his face toward my breast, taking my left nipple into his mouth with a groan.
When he breaks suction, he gives the tightened peak a little nip, and I moan.
“We get off on this shit. The torture. The blood. But we especially enjoy it when our victims deserve it. You destroyed your family because of your obsession with grief, and now we’re here to destroy you. ”
The woman begins nodding and crying, and my stomach sinks. She almost looks relieved. Dalton steps forward and yanks the pillowcase from her mouth.
“Yes,” she says, but it’s more croaked than spoken. “Send me to be with my son. If he’s truly gone, I want to be where he is.”
My shoulders droop. “Well, fuck. That takes all the fun out of it.”
“No it doesn’t.” Dalton shakes his head and smirks down at the woman before stuffing the pillowcase into her mouth again.
He places his hands on her shoulders and looks right into the eye she can’t close.
“Think about it, bones. If there is a god, would he allow this creature to recline in paradise after what she’s done?
No, I don’t think he would. I think he’d probably stick her in a place where she would forever be separated from the child she refuses to let go of.
She’ll be locked in a pit where she can’t even rely on delusions to comfort her. ”
The woman’s eyes widen as that possibility confronts her. The panic is sweet, beautiful, and immediate. Gone is her reconciliation with death. Now she thrashes against the restraints and strains until the veins bulge from her neck.
Much better.
“I think we’re ready to begin now,” I say to Dalton.
He melts my insides with a devilish grin as he unfastens his belt. “Way ahead of you.”
We both finish stripping down to our skin. What we’re about to do is going to get messy, and our wardrobes are already so limited. We set our things off to the side so that they won’t get bloody, and then we return to the bed.
Dalton holds the knife toward me. “He should be first so that she’s forced to watch. A kindness for him, but hell for her. If she even has a feeling bone in her body.”
He wants me to take the quick kill so that he can have the torture, which is fine by me. I don’t take issue with the murder part, but I’m more interested in the body parts afterward. Our symbiotic relationship is pretty great.
Well, for us. Not so much for our victims.
But as I slide onto the bed, it seems I won’t have to kill at all. The husband has already expired. I’m only mildly disappointed, though, because I get a better idea.
Over the man’s body, I pull Dalton in for a kiss. His mouth moves to my neck, and as he bathes my skin in sensual, hungry kisses, I whisper in his ear so that only he can hear.
“He’s already dead, but she doesn’t know that. Play along.”
He growls against my skin. “Your wish is my command,” he whispers back.
I move to the head of the bed and straddle the man’s face. Dalton opens his mouth to argue, but then he remembers that this mouth isn’t experiencing me at all and will never experience anything again. It’s all an act to psychologically torture his bitch of a wife.
“Fuck, for a dying man, he sure is hungry for good pussy,” I say as I tweak my nipples and look right into the woman’s face. “Is that why you were so afraid for him to see my body? Were you scared he might realize what a hag his wife is?”
She screams and throws her body forward, but Dalton stuffed the gag back into her mouth, so at least it’s muffled.
He also moved the chair against the foot of the bed so that she couldn’t topple to the floor again.
This is one performance we won’t allow her to miss. And we value audience participation.
Dalton moves closer to me, sitting up on his knees beside me as his hand caresses my ass and guides the gentle rock of my hips.
Grinding on a dead man’s face creates an interesting sensation.
His skin no longer produces warmth, creating a steadily cooling sensation against my pussy.
I imagine what it will feel like when Dalton replaces that death chill with his living heat, and it’s enough to make me clench.
“When the woman isn’t a raging cunt, no amount of skin can tear a loyal man’s eyes away from her. You never have to fear that from me. I worship you, bones, and no one will ever tempt me to stray.”
“You don’t have to fear it either, Dalton. I said yes to you because I say no to everyone else. Always.” I rock my hips faster. “Only you.”
He sits up straighter and fists his cock, stroking to the same rhythm. “How does he feel beneath you?”
The woman screams behind the gag.
“I’m close already, but I want you to make me come.” I trace along the man’s midsection with the blade. “Let’s see what’s inside first, though.”
Without any more fanfare, I sink the knife into his abdomen.
The metal slides through skin, and without any tensing muscles to provide added resistance, it’s like pushing through a chuck roast. I grip the handle and brace myself, yanking back with each forward drive of my hips.
My tempo slows, dragging out the promise of sweet release.
Blood cascades over the side of the separated skin and sloshes against Dalton’s thigh.
He drags his hand through the crimson puddle and keeps stroking his cock.
The woman finally works the gag free. “Please just let me go. I’ll be a better person. I will let go of my son, I promise! He’s dead, and I know that now. You helped me understand.”
“Bitch, you can plead all you want, but nothing is stopping this,” Dalton says.
With blood coating his cock and the promise of more on the way, he loses control.
His hand travels across my scalp. He grips my hair at the back of my head and squeezes until each root screams in ecstasy.
My eyes practically roll in my head. I drive my hands into the man’s abdomen and revel in the slippery texture of organs and tissue as an orgasm builds low in my belly.
Dalton yanks my head toward his stiff cock and forces my lips over the bloody coating. I barely have time to protect my teeth as he rams himself to the back of my throat.
A low growl rumbles within his chest. “You like it when I choke you with my dick, don’t you?”
It’s impossible to reply with his dick blocking my windpipe, but he never expected a response. That much is clear as his head tips back and he fucks my face a little harder.
The woman has had all she can stand. The legs of the chair grate against the floor as she scoot-hops toward the door. I don’t know what she expects to do when she gets there, but she’s giving it her very best.
Dalton pulls himself from my mouth and hurries to stop her. Gripping the chair back, he tips her backward and wobbles her to her starting position. Personally, I’m getting bored with the audience.
“Let’s finish her off so we can finish each other. Please?” I say with a perfect pout.
That sends her into a tirade of screams and wails.
“How’d you want to do it?” he asks.
I reach back into the man’s insides, claw past a wall of muscle, and grip a rope of intestines. “I think I have an idea.”