Chapter 8
Eight
Hadley
My throat burns with the desire to scream, but nothing comes out.
All I can do is stare in disbelief as a masked man steps out of the alley and strikes Nick in the neck with his axe.
Blood squirts and Nick tries to say something, but the axe murderer swings at him again. This time the blow is to the head.
I drop the tire iron instead of using it to defend myself.
I should run.
Scream for help.
I should do anything besides stand here and watch as this psycho turns his weapon onto Nick’s helpless sister. The bitch has it coming though. She’s taunted me for years. I stare at her lifeless eyes as crimson stains the snow.
Finally, it dawns on me that there is a masked, axe-wielding killer standing next to me.
His heavy breath whispers along the shell of my ear.
I dare to meet his steely gaze, not knowing if I’ll be his next victim.
“Hadley,” his rough voice grits out my name. “Run, little elf.”
My eyes widen in both shock and recognition.
It’s him.
My mystery man.
Just like he stepped right out of my favorite dark romance book.
“When I catch you, you’re mine,” his voice rumbles from deep in his chest.
I know he means what he says.
I do what any sane person would do.
I run.
My boots crunch in the refreezing ice as I navigate the dark alley, heading back toward the Christmas bazaar.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I see him illuminated under a streetlamp looking utterly terrifying. He waves his bloody axe over his shoulder. He’s not even chasing me.
Not yet.
He’s toying with his prey.
He’s the hunter, and I’m the doe in his sights.
Back at the bazaar, the stalls are empty. Only a few lights remain lit. The scene is no longer friendly and inviting. It’s dark, cold, and creepy. The inflatable elves at the entrance to Santa Land bend and wave with the frigid winter wind as snow pelts all around.
There’s nowhere to hide.
I turn around, my eyes on my stalker as he strolls toward me.
His steps are slow and methodical.
He has me right where he wants me.
I take a few steps back, my legs hitting Santa’s chair.
The masked man is upon me now.
I grab one of the plastic candy cane decorations that’s staked in the ground. I give it a tug, and it snaps at the end. I point it at his chest like it will do any damage.
“What are you going to do?” My words come out shaky as my breath cloud floats in front of me.
A shiver passes through me as he swats my pitiful weapon away as if it is nothing more than a gnat.
“I’m going to fuck you.”
Wetness pools between my thighs at the threat that feels more like a promise.
I gulp as he wraps a gloved hand around my throat, which smells of pine and is a bit sticky.
My heart hammers in my chest.
Rolling the bottom half of his mask up, I stare at his lips.
I know those lips. They smiled at me earlier tonight.
There’s nothing to stop him from crushing my throat here in the dark and the cold.
There’s a million ways he could kill me.
“And then, little elf…” his lips pull upward, and I want to taste them.
“And then…,” I repeat as he rubs the butt of his weapon against the skirt of my dress.
I gasp, and he dips his chin.
His torturous and punishing lips meet mine full of brutality.
He tastes of smoke and peppermint.
Dangerous.
Sexy.
Deadly.
Damon’s kiss is intoxicating and fifty shades of fucked up.
And I want more.
I want him to do anything he wants. I’m equal parts terrified and horny, but I do have some self-preservation left. I moan against his rough and demanding lips, guiding the axe away from me, hoping he’ll drop it.
“You scared of me, baby?”
I open my eyes and find him staring at me, his face still partially covered as flakes of snow land and stick to the top.
“Take off your mask. Let me see you.”
“Wouldn’t that ruin your fantasy?” he confirms that every dark secret I’ve shared over text was with him.
I shake my head, and he lets go of the axe. It falls to the ground, and he removes his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket.
Impatient, I go up on my tiptoes to snatch his mask. Damon grabs my wrist and takes possession of the knitted material.
“Is this everything you hoped it’d be?”
“It’s getting there.” I lick my lips in anticipation of what he’ll do next.
My dream man doesn’t keep me waiting long. His mouth finds mine again in an all-consuming kiss. His tongue is hot and greedy. He paws at the skirt of my dress, squeezing my backside with a savage ownership that can only be called primal.
“I should spank your ass for wearing this tonight. For flirting with Nick.”
His teeth skim across my bottom lip before biting into the plump flesh hard enough to draw blood. He knows how to push my buttons. What to do to light my fire.
Damon knows I want him to take me roughly. Hard. Without mercy.
I’ve dreamed of this so many times.
How could I have ever thought anyone else could be capable of delivering but him?
Shoving a hand inside my leggings, he jerks my panties to the side. His fingertips are rough, cold, and sticky with tree sap.
His digits enter me. The cold of his skin meets the heat of my inner walls. Like fire and ice coming together and melting when they touch. I gasp at the welcome intrusion, loving the way the rough pad of his finger hooks in a come-hither motion, hitting me in all the right places.
“Fuck, you’re so wet and tight, baby. You feel so good. Perfect. Like mine.”
“I’m yours,” I tell him, earning me his wicked smile.
I lose his touch far too soon, but he yanks my tights and undies down to my ankles and shoves me down onto Santa’s throne.
Down on his knees, Damon looks as though he’s praying at an altar that happens to be my pussy.
He shoves my thighs apart and comes in hot and fast. His mouth is on me, eager and greedy.
He thrust his tongue inside me, French kissing and fucking my pussy with his tongue.
My fantasy is coming to life.
I stare between my thighs as Damon goes down on me. I grab his dark, snow-flecked hair, giving him a playful tug. He glances up at me through hooded eyes, his mouth glistening with my juices as he licks his lips.
He comes up to give me a kiss, and I taste myself on his tongue.
“Taste good, don’t you, but I bet you’ll feel even better.” He undoes his belt and the button of his jeans. I wait eagerly for him to fuck me.
Anyone could walk up on us at any moment.
The idea of it has me getting wetter and hotter.
Damon hooks an arm under my knee, maneuvering my body at just the right angle. He lines his weeping cock up with my sweet hole and slides in delicious inch by delicious inch. I’ve never felt fuller. More whole.
I dig my nails into the shoulder of his leather jacket.
“You take my fat cock like such a good girl, my naughty little elf slut.” He pinches my tit and then bites it hard enough to leave a mark.
Someone screams in the distance. At first, I think it’s me.
But then I hear it again.
“Fuck,” Damon curses.
“Don’t stop,” I beg as he starts to pull out.
He groans into my mouth, kissing me hard, deep, and wet. “Have to, baby,” he says as though it’s painful to do so.
I feel his loss immediately as he gets his pants pulled up and his belt done up.
He pulls me to my feet and adjusts my clothes.
Police sirens echo around us.
His lips meet my forehead. “Now would be a good time for you to run, little elf.” His breath caresses my face.
I nod, but my feet stay planted. The violence of his kiss lingers on my tongue. His teeth marks and fingerprints bruise my skin.
I don’t want this to end.
He pulls away as the flashing lights and sirens grow closer.
“Run,” he growls the order at me.
I step around him and shoot down the opposite side street that runs behind the vape shop.
I get stopped midway by the sight of Tony dead. I press a palm to my mouth and look behind me. There’s no sign of Damon, but I know he’s not far. I can feel his eyes skittering across my flesh. Did he kill Tony, too?
Shit.
Snow crunches behind me. A warning to keep moving.
My breath billows in front of my face as the temperature continues to plummet.
My cheeks are red and cold as I rush past the dumpsters and onto Candy Cane Boulevard, where the tree lighting ceremony is happening.
I spot Sydney in the crowd. She probably thinks I’m off making out with Nick.
If she only knew the truth.
I keep to the back of the crowd, hoping no one sees me or the blood staining my tights. Though I suppose I’ve now been part of a murder, having an alibi of being at this ceremony isn’t a bad idea.
Damon must have the same idea because he moves in behind me, shoving his leather jacket over my cold shoulders.
His earthy scent of pine tingled with leather and smoke wraps around me as he hugs me from behind.
His lips skate along the side of my neck as he pushes me deeper into the crowd until we are near the front with Sydney.
I don’t have time to wonder what he did with his axe.
Sydney does a double take seeing Damon behind me, while mouthing, ‘What the fuck?’ at me.
I shake my head and turn, pressing my front to Damon’s, hiding my tights.
Not that anyone is really paying attention to us.
All eyes are on the enormous tree Damon’s family farm donated to the town as they do every year.
The mayor concludes his speech, and someone hits a button.
The tree sparks to life, glowing with multicolored lights and ornaments made by the local kids.
My thoughts flicker and filter a million miles a minute.
What am I doing?
I’m standing in the arms of a killer.
But he did it for me.
I know he did. Scotty, Tony, Nick, Nicole. All of them have treated me wrongly at some point.
“Let’s get out of here, little elf,” he tells me. “We’ve got something to finish.”
Mistletoe Pines Gazette
What was meant to be a holy night turned into a deadly night.
Officials are baffled by the deaths of three locals at the hands of an axe murderer. Local police chief, Coleman Francis, is staying tight-lipped, offering no comment on why one of his deputies, Tony Copley, was a victim of this brutal night.
Mourners have set up a vigil at the community center.
There is a donation fund set up for the widow and unborn child of Tony Copley.
The names of the other two victims have not been released.
We will continue to follow this developing story.
“Run, little elf,” Damon’s voice echoes through the woods behind my house.
I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know he’s there.
“When I catch you, I’m going to make good on my promise.”
I shiver at the thought.