Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EILY
I wish I didn’t believe in haints.
F luttering my eyes open, I look over my shoulder and gasp.
I know I’m supposed to be silent, but…
Oh, my gold-naked bunny God.
I mean … Goddesses.
The women are all nude. They’re all wearing gold bunny masks covering half of their beautiful faces. They’re kissing. They’re fondling. They’re fingering.
While Blair moans, devouring Charlie’s neck, her two fingers sliding inside Charlie’s slick pussy, Charlie does the same to Blair while she looks at me.
“Tonight,” Charlie orders warmly, “you watch. You witness love as it opens you for more. You will wait for yours to arrive, and you will trust. No matter what … he will come for you. Do you believe?”
“Yes,” I sigh.
Blair starts sucking Charlie’s nipple, her fingers unrelenting between her legs. She’s making Charlie’s thighs shake while she tells me, “But you cannot come. Not until he’s inside you. No matter the pleasure tempting you, you must wait for him, and … and … uhhh...”
Charlie moans as Blair suddenly squats, hungry for her, and she lets her. She opens her stance so Blair can pleasure her, so she can grab her hair while she writhes her pussy over Blair’s eager tongue. Then I glance at Stacey, who’s kneeling beside Scarlett. They’re taking turns feasting on Cade, too.
“What … what … what do I do?”
“Watch. Feel. Open,” Cade stammers, so I obey.
I turn around, still on my knees, and admire Blair’s luscious ass while she quickly makes Charlie come on her tongue. All while Stacey moans into Cade’s pussy, her fingers pounding, making Cade come with a shuddering gasp before Scarlett takes over, boldly lying Stacey on her back, nude on the dock.
We watch them twist into a sapphic sixty-nine, and I’m soaked.
My legs are trembling.
Their wanton moans echo over the water … then I hear a thick branch snap on the shore.
We’re being watched.
Charlie hears it, too, and smirks.
She helps Blair to her feet, turning Blair’s naked body toward the island a hundred feet away. It’s close enough, and the moon is bright enough for anyone to see as Charlie kneels before Blair now, slinging her leg over her shoulder. Blair throws her head back, her moan needy and loud, her hips rocking over Charlie’s face.
Beside them, Scarlett and Stacey devote their mouths between each other’s open legs, their lusty cries filling the night air .
To the men watching on the shore, it must be the most erotic sight, their gold bunny masks adding to the fetish, to the ritual.
Cade approaches me, her naked body incandescent in the moonlight.
Lifting a lighter from the black box, she ignites the small lantern beside me.
“This is for you.” She hands me a small gold parchment scroll tied with a black bow. “When you hear the drum calling, read it, then take your lantern and find us.”
“ Find you?”
“Yes.” She squats beside me, her kiss lush and gentle. I kiss her back as I hear women gasping and moaning. They’re coming. “But remember. You must watch. You must wait. You must open and receive. And you must trust. You can’t come until he’s inside you.”
I grin. “You’re so bossy.”
“Shhh.” She smiles, pressing her fingertip to my lips. “This is supposed to be serious.”
“But I’m horny as fuck.”
“Oh, my sexy bitch in heat, we’re just getting started with you.”
She rises while the others catch their breath. Then, one by one, they approach me, my lantern illuminating their curves as each kisses me, letting me taste the feminine arousal on their tongues, leaving me hungry for more.
Without a word, they walk away, their beautiful backsides swaying in the moonlight.
More branches break as our audience retreats. They don’t want to be caught by the bunny queens while I kneel, watching them disappear into the forest.
Finally, I only see darkness, and the faint silhouette of the pines and palms before me, the shallow waves lapping the sandy shore under the moonlight.
I only hear water.
I only taste desire.
I only feel hope.
I only sense time taking forever.
I realize this is part of the ritual. It’s part of life. All the plans we make. All the hopes we have. All the dreams we share.
Fate still reigns supreme.
All you can do is worship it.
Finally, after I start shivering, though wrapped in a cape, I hear a drum—a slow, thumping, primal beat.
Then it stops.
With trembling hands, I open the parchment, and it reads…
Who has married many women but never married?
“Oh, come on ,” I say to no one, annoyed. “I gotta use my brain?”
This isn’t a ritual, this is a damn riddle.
I’m about to get mad when I only want to get laid, and then it pops into my head. My partners know my rebel mind too well.
A priest!
Of course. The ones who made rules about marriage and sex but have no clue about it, but I do. I know the answer: Colton and Mateo.
They played the priests this week, but which one? And do I go to one of their tents?
Fuck it .
I’ll figure it out along the way.
Rising to my feet, my knees ache from kneeling while I brush off my cape before lifting my hood. Cloaked in fur, I grab my lantern by its warm wooden handle and aim for camp.
Yep, it’s dark and creepy.
Yep, I feel way too vulnerable under my flowing cape, wearing only skimpy lingerie and wandering alone at night through the wild woods.
And yep, it’s kinda fucking crazy.
But hey, it’s exactly what I want.
Because this is my home. This is my sentimental spot with Silas, our dock. These are our trails, which we walk almost every day, holding hands. And this is our island where I feel safe.
But when my booted feet meet the sandy path, a sudden, chilling gust whips across the shore. A horror petrifies my bones, a panic pouring through my veins as it comes back to me…
My villain?
The haint?
Peering into the darkness, the familiar forest before me suddenly swallows all light. Someone extinguished the lanterns, and mine pales to the blackness drowning the world around me.
Who blew the lanterns out? Our women wouldn’t. And who was that on the shore watching us? I thought it was our men.
But what if it was?—
Snap!
A branch breaks in the distance.
I whip my eyes in its direction and see only the dark curtain of an evil nothing, an eerie presence staring right back at me.
“Hello?”
After a panicked minute, the barred owl calls again, and I freak out.
They only call at night to warn an invader. Silas taught me that.
“Mr. Cummings?” I don’t snort at his name this time. “If that’s you, I’d love to know so I don’t piss myself right now.”
Silence replies before palms rustle with an ominous squall, screaming through the tree canopy. Dead leaves startle by. The air plummets, dry and chilling, making the hairs on my arms stand, my flesh rising, too.
Oh, no.
Something’s coming.
A storm.
A villain.
A haint.
Staring down the haunting void before me, I have a choice. Give up on my fantasy and go back to the dock and scream for help. Eventually, they’ll hear me. Or step bravely into terrifying, spine-chilling, blind uncertainty and complete this ritual.
I squeeze my eyes closed and see the only thing, the only one I want … Silas.
He’s waiting for me.
“Fuck this,” I mutter and start marching faster, my cape sweeping the sand and dead leaves behind me.
Never has this trail felt so long. Never have I been afraid on our island. Never have I been absolutely sure…
Someone is following me.
Their breath chills my neck .
“Fuck you, demon.”
I surprise him, spinning around, aiming my lantern into the howling silence, and I’m greeted by mocking shadows. The canopy above me kills the moonlight, my eyes playing wicked tricks on me.
I see nothing.
Yeah, but…
I feel someone.
“Okay, motherfucker!” I shout. “Come out now, or let me get on with my ritual. Because you’re really killing my lady boner.”
Silence.
Then…
Wind howls through the leaves. A sudden chill slithers like snakes up my naked legs. A sensation screams up my spine as something whispers over my ear.
“Run!”
I whip around and sprint as fast as I can, terror and threats chasing me. My heart hammers so hard; it’s all I hear. My hand clutches my lantern, my knuckles white, though I can’t see them. I see nothing except my booted feet stumbling through sand, leaves, and fear.
I wish Silas were here.
I wish I didn’t believe in haints.
I wish I could revoke my invitation to a hot-ass criminal to scare us because it’s working.
I am fucking scared. I’m afraid. I’m alone. And I hate these feelings; they rush back, haunting memories long buried.
So I keep running.
Another branch snaps behind me, and I gasp, glancing over my shoulder at an invisible threat. I keep waiting for it to grab my throat and steal my voice, dragging me down into the darkness. Instead, it shoves me, making me trip over branches, gripping my lantern tight.
But I keep going. I won’t stop. I have to trust I’ll reach Silas, I’ll reach the clearing, and finally…
There it is.
Our tent village.
But this again?
Who the fuck blew out the pretty Pinterest pumpkins and candles? I can barely see a thing.
I’m writing a strongly worded one-star review on this. This isn’t sexy glamping anymore.
This is scary.
This is creepy.
Because damn, our island looks haunted as hell in the pitch-black solitude.
I’m about to scream, “Stop it! I’m too cute to spook!”
Then, suddenly, a lone candle flickers. Someone lights one of the pumpkins I carved, etched with a glowing floral design.
It’s Blair’s tent—her tent with Beau and Colton … the priest.
I made it.
Squaring my shoulders, I turn, lifting my chin and flipping off the dark terror behind me.
If it’s Mr. Cummings.
If it’s a haint.
“Eat my cunt,” I sneer at the night. “You’ll see! I’d rather be fucked by them than scared by you.”