6. Githany
Githany
Stars swim past my vision from standing and turning so fast. Three figures pose in front of me, all masked, all familiar.
I’ve been in rooms with each one this evening. The butcher. The clown. The chainsaw psycho.
Which one spoke? I can’t see any of their mouths.
“Hello, ghost girl.” I recognize the clown’s voice, followed by a fit of laughter that flexes his stomach muscles.
“That’s right.” The chainsaw man cocks his head.
“Madness told us you see dead people.” The burlap mask he’s wearing is more detailed than I realized.
Two black button eyes sewn into the top have me wondering how he can see out at all.
The lifeless buttons give the sack such a simplistic horror.
His mouth is unusual. The smile that curves up into a perfect U is not made of buttons.
Literal human teeth have been sewn across the sack.
They sit in varying directions, root and all.
Blood splatter coats the man like a garish art piece from the bottom half of the mask all the way down his exposed torso.
His skin is even paler than mine, making the deep crimson blood flecking his lower abs stand out that much brighter.
“What’s your name, ghost girl?” The butcher’s voice is deep enough to set something tingling within me.
My name. They want to know my name. “Githany.” What the fuck? Why did I tell them? Part of my brain must still be trapped in that tunnel. It’s like the word was pulled from my throat.
“Humans get scared in Reaper’s Playroom, Githany. You didn’t smell scared at all. Not until you got stuck back there.” The chainsaw man nods to the entrance.
That clicking sound. It’s gone now. I peer over my shoulder. Thankfully nothing followed me out.
Fingers wrap around the wrist of my injured hand, snapping my gaze forward. The butcher moved in silence. The air between us vanishes as he towers over me. His pig mask is even more menacing up close.
“You’re hurt.” The trio share a round of low laughter. “Let us kiss it better.”
Hunt
Githany’s eyes lose focus as Gator spins her around. He pins the front of her body next to the tunnel’s entrance. The action is rough enough to shoot a thrill to my groin.
He presses her stomach against the stone, bending her injured arm behind her.
With her face to the wall, she can’t see him drop to his knees and remove his pig mask.
His right hand lays flat against her back, trapping her while she struggles against him.
His left hand pushes her sleeve up, revealing blue all the way to her fingertips.
As she fights him, a hint of blue peeks out from just under her neckline.
Gator turns to us. We all share a look. Whatever is happening, it’s changing her fast.
Githany yelps when Gator adjusts his grip on her wrist, raising her split palm to his mouth. My eyes are glued to the tip of his pierced tongue as it swipes out, lapping up the free-flowing blood from her hand.
Githany whimpers. Gator licks her again.
The second whimper is even louder. Gator’s head swings toward me.
I assume he’s reacting to the taste of the blood.
Blood is usually my domain. He’s more into flesh itself.
But when Githany’s scent hits my nostrils, that wild intensity in his glowing eyes makes perfect sense. She smells like arousal.
Madness groans next to me. He can smell it too.
Githany throws her free elbow behind her, clipping Gator in his cheek. He scrambles to pull his mask back down. Our girl kicks out, her boot slamming into the center of his chest. Gator topples over. I bet he wasn’t expecting her to fight like that.
Watching her beat the hell out of Gator becomes an image I’m instantly craving more of. I’d pay to watch her hurt him while he’s tied up. She’d look exquisite, naked and panting. Taking her fill inflicting the pain Gator loves so much and then sitting on his battered and bloodied face.
I’m in trouble. I’ve known this girl for five minutes and she’s already got me lost in daydreams.
Githany uses the few seconds it takes Gator to regain his footing and runs.
My muscles tighten. If she knew what running triggered in me… Run, run, run.
They call me Hunt for a reason.
“Don’t.” Madness’s grip on my arm is punishing. “Don’t kill her if you catch her.”
A deep inhale calms me fractionally. He’s right. We haven’t had any fun yet. In this heightened state, I’m likely to get carried away. “I won’t.”
He groans as I launch into a chase, my chainsaw swinging in my grip.
Githany’s green and black hair whips around her face as she glances side to side.
She’s seeking something familiar to tell her where she’s at in relation to the exit.
But this isn’t the same room she was in before she went into that tunnel.
It may look similar, but we’re in our own arena now.
The perfect place to play our little game without any interference from the outside world.
The sounds of her heavy breathing have my mouth watering. She’s made a bold choice, running blindly in the dark. Bold, but futile.
She screams, a genuine, sexy-as-hell scream, when I cut off her path.
“Where’s the exit?” she demands, still breathy from exertion. “Show me the exit my friends went—”
“That’s not the door for you, ghost girl.” I’m quick to move into her space, fist wrapped in her sweater. “Your friends don’t spend their days conversing with the dead, now do they? Maybe your door is over here.”
I give her a swift shove straight into Gator’s waiting arms.
She screams as his pig mask dips out from the darkness. “We’ll be your friends. Stay and play for a while.”
“Let go!” She slams her hands against Gator’s biceps, stumbling back when he releases her. “Who are you?”
He prowls forward. “We’re just a couple of nightmares, ghost girl. Now we’ll be your nightmares.”
“Stop fucking with me. Who are you?”
Gator chuckles. He loves a good introduction. “Gator. The name my meals have chosen over the centuries. That’s what they all scream when they see me coming. That’s what they believe I am when I eat them alive.”
She backpedals farther, oblivious to the pink Xs illuminated behind her.
“Madness,” Madness whispers in her ear. She screams again, whirling. “That’s what they call us. Down, down, down your mind will go. Eyes in the dark. Teeth under the bed. Screaming until you go mad.”
She whips her gaze to me expectantly.
Since we’re introducing ourselves: “Hunt. A name I earned. Because as soon as you think you’re alone, I’ll find you. No matter where you run to or how well you hide. I’m the eyes in the trees. The snap of a twig nearby. The shadow that passes over the moon. There’s no hunt I haven’t finished.”
Her shifting scent is so fucking sweet I could come from one deep inhale.
She sidesteps away from Madness, moving until she has all three of us in her sights. “What do you want from me, freaks?”
“Freakssss.” Gator’s forked tongue slips out beneath his mask as he repeats the word.
Githany’s eyes stay glued to the spot where his tongue just appeared.
I nudge him. “Show her again.”
Gator extends his tongue, letting it slide beneath the mask. He flicks it, moving with a speed that blurs the forked red tip. Show-off.
Githany sucks in a breath. Her scent intensifies. Interesting reaction to a tongue that’s closer to a dragon’s than a man’s.
I step forward, cupping her jaw and gripping hard when she attempts to step back again. “Did you like when Gator tasted you? Maybe I should have a turn. Give me your arm.”
She doesn’t move, just stares into the eyes of my mask.
I keep forgetting I have this damn thing on.
Two eyes aren’t nearly enough to absorb the splendor of this radiant creature.
She’s got something singing in my black soul.
When I slip into myself again, I’ll use all my eyes to watch her bleed, moan, fight…
My touch is intentionally rough. She flinches when I take her palm and slide it beneath my mask.
Forgoing my tongue completely, I latch onto the cut with eager lips.
My cock engorges so fast there’s an audible sound as my jeans zipper strains against the fabric.
Sucking on fresh blood always gets me worked up.
Which means I finish every hunt with a raging hard-on.
I usually have to save that erection until I get home to Madness and Gator.
Sex with victims isn’t my thing. It’s challenging to keep them alive once I’ve started feasting on fear.
Fucking my meals after they’re dead isn’t a turn-on for me, either.
They have to want it too. By the time I start draining them, sex is the last thing on their minds.
I wonder if our little ghost girl will be different.
Githany’s eyes roll from the sensation.
Gator clutches my shoulder. He’s an anchor, reminding me not to drain her dry. His fingers dig into my upper arm. I take the hint, freeing her hand before I’ve had my fill.
A low whining draws my attention to Madness. His body is shaking with the need to try her.
“Madness.” I hold her palm out to him. He’s instantly kneeling by my side, choosing to tilt his mask up and expose a very human-passing mouth and chin.
He laps at her like she’s ice cream on a hot day, swirling his tongue back and forth.
Githany writhes, releasing small hiccup-like moans as he licks her.
If she likes our tongues now, she’s going to love them when they’re doing something actually useful.
I consider dropping down. Would she fight me if I shoved my tongue in her pussy while the others watched?
Would she let all three of us shoulder our way between her thighs?
Watching us fight to get our mouths on her, in her.
It doesn’t matter if they’re screams of terror or screams of pleasure. I get off on both.