Chapter Fourteen
Sturgeon Moon
After apologizing to my mom and having an hour-long heart-to-heart, she agreed to let me move out, but only after I’ve saved at least three thousand dollars, preferably five.
My dad hung my door back up a few hours ago, and after a few days without it, all I want to do is leave it open.
I chew the side of my thumbnail. Tonight’s the full moon, the return of Mastyx, and I’m fucking petrified.
I asked my parents to stay home with me, but the stupid neighbor is having another one of his fucking moon parties.
He doesn’t usually have two in a row, but I guess the Perseid meteor shower could be visible at the same time through a telescope, and it’s a big deal.
I mean, it’s not like my parents could stop Mastyx, even if they tried. Could they even see him, I wonder? Or would they come in and just see handprints showing up on my body, seemingly placed there by a ghost?
“We’re heading out,” my dad says, his brow furrowing at my bleeding thumb as he swoops into my room. “Kiddo, you have to stop biting your nails, or I’m going to buy you some of that bitter polish and lather it on like soap.”
“I know. It’s just, I haven’t been alone since the night of the fire.” I stare at my floor, not wanting him to see the fear lingering in my eyes.
The mattress sinks as he sits beside me. “We are leaving the cellphone on the kitchen table for you in case of emergencies and will be right down the street. We can be here in less than a minute.”
I lean my head against his black-and-white plaid button-up, the faint scent of cheese wafting from his breath. “Did you get into mom’s cheese platter for the party?”
He pulls me against his side, a devious smile playing on his lips, and squeezes my bicep. “Oh, I may have had a nibble or two.”
“Look who’s poking the bear now,” I say, glaring up at him.
My body falls sideways with a quick, but playful push of his hand. “Get out of here.” He stands, leans down and kisses the top of my head. “Remember, you wanted to prove that you can be out on your own, so staying here alone, without an issue, will certainly boost your mother’s confidence.”
“I know, Dad. I’m going to work on setting up my Etsy shop and uploading pictures of my natural death creations.”
“Okay. Well, keep the doors locked, and we’ll be home sometime after two.” He walks away from me and disappears into the hall, leaving the door open.
I glance at my wall clock. It’s five minutes to eight.
Six hours alone. A six-hour window, Mastyx could show and torture me with his flaming hot body.
My legs tighten at the thought, and a tremor rises in my abdomen, my anxiety trying to rear its ugly head.
I hope he comes as a full man, not a creature or even a partial one. It would certainly make things easier.
My head spins, a part of me wanting to let everything go and not worry about what happens next, and the other part wanting nothing more than to run and hide inside a church, where I may or may not be protected.
I’ve come to accept he’s not going to kill me, and he’s obviously willing to go to great lengths to protect what he claims is his, so why am I still so afraid?
My thoughts wander to what I’m going to say to him, and my hands begin to tremor.
I rub them together, trying to ease my nerves.
Should I ask him not to leave marks where my parents can see?
Or ask him how I can help him be more manly and less beastly?
How can I even address the issue without coming off as insulting?
The shaking has traveled from my hands into my entire trunk, rattling my core.
Don’t be afraid, Tessa, the worst he can do is say no.
Fuck, Tessa. What are you even saying? He’s a demon.
You can’t control him. I rub both my sweating palms up and down my upper thighs.
I wish they’d stop trembling. My jaw staggers open and close, chattering my teeth.
Calm down, Tessa, everything’s going to be fine.
Deep breath in, I close my eyes and blow it out.
I open my eyes and gaze down at the wound on my leg.
It has healed faster since Mastyx ripped it open and sealed it back shut.
The doctor at my final follow-up thought it was the honey ointment I’ve been using—says it works wonders.
So does the fiery hand of a demon, I thought to myself at the time.
I shake my head, trying to clear it and focus on taking nice photos of my art.
Although I didn’t sell all the pieces at the craft fair, a lot of people asked about a website to purchase later, which I didn’t have.
I took their information on a sign-up sheet with their emails, so I could let them know when the site was ready.
My bedroom door slams when I hit send on my last email, and I leap to my feet, my eyes like saucers scanning the empty, but dimly lit room.
“Mastyx?” I murmur. I stare at my bedroom door for a few seconds, listening for any signs of life on the other side before crossing the room and trying the knob.
It won’t open.
I scan the floor first, looking to see if something is blocking it from opening, before I look at the top of the frame.
My eyes widen as a blackened handprint burns into the wooden door, an orange outline shining brightly and flaking off, embers floating to the floor. I can’t see him, but he’s here.
The floor creaks as I back up toward my bed, swallowing hard.
I need to try to control what happens next, or at least find a way to make it less petrifying.
All I can think of in my crazy mind is accepting what’s about to happen.
Perhaps if he stays invisible, it won’t be so bad.
Charred hoof prints burn through my fluffy, white area rug, sending the foul smell of melting polyester into the room.
In the weeks leading up to this full moon, I spent hours researching a way out, but came up short, except for straight-up witchcraft and rituals. Neither of the topics I researched yielded a single answer to any of my many questions.
I’ve spent almost every night crying myself to sleep in anticipation of Mastyx’s next visit and the pain he’ll bring with it.
One night, I had a particularly ugly meltdown, and an epiphany soon followed.
He wants my body, so maybe I can use that to my advantage.
Although I’ve accepted my fate, it doesn’t make this any easier, especially when he stands before me, his hooves smoldering through my area rug.
For some reason, he can come at will as long as it’s the full moon or when I summon him. Yet, everything I’ve read about incubus demons states that their victims are usually asleep. Perhaps it was part of the contract I signed with him, but I couldn’t read or understand.
Breathe, Tessa. Remember to breathe. You can do this. Offering myself up to him willingly may be the only way to gain the upper hand—may be the only way I can come out of this encounter with less damage to my flesh.
Clear your mind, Tessa. Fucking let it go.
I close my eyes, take a deep, staggering breath and pull my shirt over my head, revealing my breasts to the seemingly vacant room. A tremor vibrates across my core, and my nipples harden to stone as the hoof prints stop moving, stop coming closer to me.
He’s waiting. It’s working. He wants to watch and see.
I want to stop right here, not let him see anything else, but I know that, for this to work, for me to be in a position to make a request, possibly, I need to sacrifice something first.
My dignity.
I shimmy out of my shorts and underwear, and a hoof print moves closer.
My bottom lip quivers, and I put my hand up.
“One condition. Please don’t leave marks where my parents can see.
” I sniff my running nose, wipe my watering eyes, and keep moving back until the back of my knees strike my mattress, and I sit down, shifting myself onto the bed entirely.
Not a single part of me isn’t vibrating with fear, but I swallow it down, hoping beyond all hopes he’ll grant me this one thing.
The bulb inside my lamp next to my bed pops, and the room darkens at once. The mattress sinks by my feet, and my breath quickens. I gasp for air, fear coursing through my veins, wishing he’d say something or appear. At least let me know you understand, I think to myself.
A rising heat floats from my lower legs and moves at a glacial pace to my upper body until it reaches my face. “I understand,” Mastyx’s low, throaty growl fills the void between us, his hot, scentless breath shifting the hairs on my cheeks.
He’s reading my mind again.
Please, tell me how I can make this less painful.
A crushing pain fills my breasts, something gripping them tightly in the dark. It burns, but not so hot that it’s intolerable. “I decide the amount of pain you deserve, Little Sinner.”
Something drags slowly up my leg, leaving a trail of something hot, wet and thick on my skin. “Open your legs,” he orders.
My heart pounds in my chest, so hard it sends a rush through my eardrums. I slide my heels outward, the memory of what happens when I don’t do what he wants flooding through my brain and helping my legs open.
A black face manifests above me in the dark, the silhouette of it barely visible in the dim amount of moonlight peeking through my curtains. It moves closer and closer to me, and I press my head into the mattress, trying to keep it from touching me.
He turns his head sideways and rests his pointed ear against my sternum. “Oh, Little Sinner, how your heart pounds for me.”
I gaze down at his face, and a hint of the man from the fair flashes briefly through his features, rippling from one side to the next, before returning to all black. My body stiffens, frozen in fear as a pressure, then stretching pain, makes me cry out.
Mastyx’s cock makes a slow and torturous entry, feeling larger this time than before. It’s hot, but not as bad as our last encounter.
He lets it sit there, not moving, not ramming me with it, just stationary like he’s waiting for the right moment to thrust into me.
We lie there, in the darkness, me panting in fear and him remaining soundless and relaxed, for what feels like an eternity.
His breathing is quiet, almost rhythmic and for a moment, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep.
“I never sleep, Little Sinner.”
Flames rise in his eyes, casting a hot shade of orange into the room.
My eyeballs water and burn, the heat emanating from his coming at me in waves.
I scream, and his tongue launches from between his lips, plunging into my throat, silencing me.
His cock thrusts into me rhythmically at first, then in short but powerful bursts, sending sharp pains into my core.
I dig my heels into the mattress and push up with my body, trying to buck him off, but he’s massive, and his weight drops on top of me, crushing my chest. His tongue slithers out of my mouth, and I cough hard, desperately trying to gulp air into my lungs.
His cock yanks out of me, making me yelp. Without warning, he forces my legs apart and extends his tongue between them. It lashes back and forth against my clit rapidly. A tingling sensation travels through my inner thighs and buttocks, and I can’t help but moan.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“This is for you and for me, my Little Sinner.”
The tingling suddenly sends a violent wave of pleasure throughout my body. I launch my head back as a blissful and euphoric orgasm drains out of me. His head disappears between my legs, and I grip the sheets, twisting them between my fingers, his audible licking and slurping echoing around us.
If he weren’t so hideous, this would be amazing, I think instantly regretting it.
His head snaps up from between my legs, his eyes turning to angry slits in the dark. “You want to see hideous?” His growling voice booms with rage. “I’ll show you hideous.”
His face changes from a black silhouette with golden eyes to the man from the fair and then to a flaming skull with sharpened teeth. I shriek and pinch my eyes closed, trying not to look at him as I shout, “I’m sorry!”
He grabs me by the arms and lifts me from the mattress, sending me airborne. I land hard on the floor by my door and cover my head, waiting for him to strike me. The clunking sound of hooves grows closer, but I keep my eyes tightly shut.
“Open your eyes and look at me, Little Sinner, or I’ll do it for you.”
I open my eyes, but stay crouched, keeping them focused on the floor, panting heavily, my pulse throbbing hard in my neck. My lips tremble, and tears stream like rain down my face as I slowly turn to look at him.
My eyes widen in horror. His flaming skull is nothing compared to the rest of him.
His chest, like that of a bull, hairy, broad and swole, rises and falls with heaving breaths of fury.
My eyes drift to his massive cock covered in ridges, black ooze dripping from its tip.
I sit up quickly, pressing my back against my bedroom door.
The top of his flaming head blackens my bedroom ceiling as he stands fully.
His tail whips around from his back, wraps around my throat and lifts me to my feet.
I dig my nails into the coarse, hair-covered appendage, gasping for air.
“Now, I will take you my way, Little Sinner.”
My face smacks against the floor, splitting my lip wide open, and the taste of metallic liquid fills my palate.
I barely have time to take a breath when his full body weight comes crashing down on my spine, flattening me to the floor.
Radiating pain travels through my hips, his clawed hands gripping them tight as he hoists my ass up in the air and enters me violently from behind.
I cry out with every vicious pound, his visceral desire audible, as he bleats, groans and grumbles.
The more I try and pull away from him, the deeper the sharp ridges covering his cock, dig into my walls.
A puddle grows beneath me, my eyes spilling endless tears of pain and sadness that this is now my life—the life I chose when I signed that contract in blood to save myself.
Boiling lava fills my insides, and Mastyx howls, his rhythm slowing to a painful stop. I drop to the floor, his claws releasing me.
If I could curl into a ball, I would, but the pain inside me is unbearable, and every muscle I have pulsates with an ache I’ve never felt before. Everything feels weakened, defeated.
I want to die. I should have died.
I shouldn’t have taken the deal.