Chapter 8
The Stranger
My hands are slick with blood, but tonight, it’ll stain her instead. She’s fucking exquisite in red, blood specifically. The image alone sends me reeling. There’s only one twisted game left before I’ll reveal everything, and I know she’ll stay.
Perhaps not now, or in the coming week. But she will, eventually. She was made for me.
The anticipation gnaws at me, a fire licking inside my chest. Her soul calls to mine. The wickedness inside it. Her underlying trauma that I can feel as if it’s my own, ripping through my insides like chains dragging me under the weight of the sea.
Oh, yes. She will be mine.
The barn door splinters open as she throws her shoulder against it. I wait a few minutes, giving her just enough distance to get away from me. What fun would it be if I didn’t instill the hope that she can get away?
When I deem it long enough, I begin my hunt.
Axe in hand—not my own that I trust to fell trees, but this will do for tonight—I stalk toward the empty barn.
Silence fills the atmosphere with a hum that’s almost deafening.
It’s dark in here, the only illumination coming from the torches placed haphazardly around.
It was fairly easy to navigate around here when I left the tractor in here. I’d heard the farmer tell his colleague that this is where he would pick up the tractor for the hayride.
Calm settles in my bones as I take a sharp breath, feeling the thrill of the hunt settling in. I’m in my element.
After all I’ve been through, having control over any situation is my only way of doing it. And my little death angel seems to love giving up control, even when she won’t acknowledge it.
Wooden pillars support the structure of the old building in the middle of the huge space, so spacious it’s a wonder they haven’t made more use of this for the fair, other than being a storage space.
It’d have been perfect for another haunted house.
Looking around the barn, I can’t immediately see her, but I know she hasn’t left the barn. I can feel her presence, as if she were standing right beside me.
This game is called tag, but I’m not chasing her. More like hunting for her.
Grabbing the cracked porcelain mask I found lying around in the fair, I put it on my face for added effect. I know she finds it terrifying, but her fear is oh-so-sweet.
Pursing my lips, I stalk forward, humming on a Halloween-themed lullaby. The tune drifts through the dark, and in my mind, I can see her before me. Plump lips opening into a gasp, eyes wide and glistening with fear and arousal.
“Come out, come out. Wherever you are, little fangs,” I croon, pausing in the middle of the barn as I listen for any sound of her.
Adrenaline thrums through my veins, sharper than any drug, recognizing how alive this makes me feel. My obsession with her can’t be explained. I know I’m not fucking stable, but who cares?
If it’s right, it’s right. And she made the mistake of looking into the predator’s eyes. For now, she’s mine. And I won’t let her go.
A flicker of movement catches my eye up on the loft, just the barest shift of shadow. Clever little fangs.
Dragging the metal end of the axe along the dirt floor, I make my way forward, practically able to hear her gasp at the sound of it. My blood sings with it, a feral ache I can barely restrain.
“You know this is supposed to be tag. Not hide-and-seek,” I call out, my voice carrying out. I throw up my arms to my side, spinning slowly while assessing my surroundings.
I know exactly where she is, but I want to pretend I don’t.
Fuck, this is so exhilarating.
I make my way over to the ladder, grabbing the axe in one hand and using the other for balance.
After years of working as a lumberjack, I’m familiar with keeping my balance, and soon, I’m up on the loft.
The air is heavy with hay and dust up here, tickling my lungs as I breathe. But it doesn’t stop me.
My footsteps crunch against the hay as I ascend the haybales, dragging the axe after me.
“I know you’re here somewhere.”
Her small gasp filtrates the air. I hear her crawling forward somewhere here, but I can’t find her.
Then I see it, a makeshift tunnel of haybales. Her petite form crouches beneath, and the sight rips an eager breath from me as I stalk closer. Desire surges through me in a never-ending vortex. I need to have her, yet the hunt itself intoxicates me equally.
Control is all I have left.
She crawls all the way through a narrow opening in the wall at the rear end of the haybales, and I make my way beside the hay tunnel, crouching before the opening.
I’m too big to fit through it. She presses herself into the cramped opening, appearing so small and fragile.
I want to protect her and rip her apart all at once.
I tilt my head, fingers tightening on the axe. This could be problematic if she decides to stay in there all night. We don’t have all the time in the world.
The clock is ticking.
“Come out, little fangs. Let’s play.”
Her eyes lock on the axe, and I follow her gaze. Realization kicks in. I forgot to wipe it off before dragging it here. What an inconvenience.
Her fear is palpable, her body visibly trembling from the effort of hiding from me.
It all settles in. Her naivety. She still thinks I’m a scare-actor the fair hired tonight. I must admit, I’ve done an impeccable job at being one. Maybe it should be my line of work if I grow bored of my solitude being a lumberjack.
“Oh, this?” I lift it, watching the torchlight gleam along the stained shaft. “You didn’t really think it was a prop, did you? That I was just some scare-actor?”
She startles, her face draining of all blood until she becomes as pale as a ghost.
“W-what?
Pressing her back deeper into the opening, she tries to get as far away from me as she physically can. A futile attempt.
For a second of a heartbeat, she suddenly scootches backward, throwing open a hatch in the floor and disappearing right through it. A low groan rumbles from me when I realize she’s gone, but my heart accelerates at the fact that the hunt has once more begun.
Rushing over the haybales, I reach the ladder on the other side and climb down with ease. She’s already below, so small and fragile, hugging herself as her frantic gaze searches for an exit.
I move in long strides, using my tall height to my advantage.
She licks her lips as she stares at me with wide eyes, shimmering with fear and that undeniable spark of something darker. She scrambles for a way out of here, but I’m blocking the barn door.
“There’s nowhere to run!” I snarl through the mask.
There’s no way she’s going to reach the door without being caught by my massive frame. My cock hardens, pre-cum practically leaking out, and the thrill burns ever hotter within me.
On the outside, the wind rages, rattling the boards of the barn. The Halloween night’s chill is growing sharper and more violent.
Casting a quick look behind her, she sees the tractor I parked there, with the torches littering the railing all burned out, still faintly blistering with the glow from having been lit before.
She makes a run toward it, but I’m faster. Within a few steps, I’m onto her, pushing her back toward the tractor and trapping her in.
She can’t escape me. From the look in her eyes, I know she doesn’t want to.
“I love the smell of your fear. So fucking delicious.”
I slide my hands to her throat, the desire to choke her filling my fantasy, and I squeeze gently. She gasps, and I notice the way she clenches her thighs together. It makes me groan, fire licking me up from the inside.
“If you’re a good girl, I might let you come this time.”
“H-how do I know you’re not a murderer?”
She can barely get out a breath as she asks.
“You should have thought of that before you decided to flirt with a stranger.”
I’m not going to kill her, and she should know that, but I think her fear is what’s making her even more aroused.
I put the axe to the side, removing my black leather gloves painfully slow.
She watches me every second, taking me in from how I fold the sleeves of my shirt over my elbows, revealing full-sleeved tattoos depicting a beautiful forest in black and white.
The first home I ever made my own—the forest.
I catch her by surprise when I hike her dress over her waist, hooking my thumbs into the hemline of her sexy tights and panties before pulling them down. I’m careful not to rip the fabric. Fuck knows how protective women are over their goddamn tights.
Using both hands, I lift her onto the hood of the tractor. Handling her like a marionette doll, hearing the aroused breaths she takes, I know I’m in my element. I’m in control.
Nothing can hurt me here. Nor can anything hurt her.
Two broken souls connecting in the way only they know how.
I have to go down on my knees before her to spread her beautiful, supple thighs, grabbing a handful.
“I want to devour you. Make you realize you’re mine. You can’t fucking escape me now, min dods?ngel. The deities won’t allow it.”
Her sharp intake of breath is all I need as approval. I put my mask in my back pocket before diving right in, pushing my tongue against her clit and stroking it in long, languid motions. I hold onto her thighs for dear life, spreading her open for me and eating her out.
When she grinds against me, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m fucking yearning for her, grunting and enjoying every second of making her feel ecstatic.
Her body violently trembles as she leans back against the hood to keep her balance, whimpering and moaning.
I don’t stop. Not even when she appears to be on the edge of passing out.
Licking and sucking, squeezing her thighs, she comes all over my face, muffling her scream.
Muscles twitching with intensity, sweat coats her forehead as I finally look up at her.
Her eyes are shimmering with unshed tears, the intensity wrecking her on the inside.