Chapter Two #2
I stand in front of her and tilt my head, allowing her to see into the pitch black abyss of my eyes. My fingers reach for her face, tracing the delicate edge of her jaw. It’s going to look beautiful framing the new headlight of my motorcycle.
“Greta. Greta. Greta,” I scold with a click of my tongue.
Her eyes fill with salt water, tiny pools sinking her blue irises.
“Sorrowful seas,” I whisper in admiration, swiping the tops of her cheeks. “I can’t wait to cut them from your face.”
She whimpers again, her entire body trembling with a fresh wave of terror. Her eyes spill their water like a dam breaking to fill a lake.
“Does that scare you?” I bend down to get closer, smelling the fresh scent of deer blood and piss. “Do I scare you?” I blink, tilting my head in the other direction.
More tears fall, pairing well with the increased scent of fear. Mmmm, it’s like an expensive drink with a gourmet meal.
“Good,” I growl. “I’m going to make you feel what you made these deer feel. I’m going to rip your scalp from your skull, so you understand what it is like to have something stolen from you.” Tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, a black cloud swirls around our feet.
“Let me see what you fear most.”
The nightmare acts as a snake creeping up her face, the onyx tendrils peeling her bottom lids to slip inside. Her eyes are blue for one last second before my evil intent possesses her.
I drift into her mind, following the screams from Greta. The closer I get to her, the louder they become. I sense her worst fear, a smile belonging to someone unhinged, becomes my face.
Storm-filled clouds escape me, crackling with rage and death. Her screams continue, unknowingly luring me closer to the parts that she keeps secret.
Fuck, I love the way secrets taste. So much mistrust to hold all those wrongs inside a skeleton that can’t handle so much deceit.
That’s what is so special about getting to see what people fear most. More times than I can count, it’s one of their deepest darkest secrets that they haven’t told a soul.
It’s too fucked up.
It’s too much.
If the truth leaves your lips, their perception of you might change.
I couldn’t care less about perception.
“Your secrets are safe with me,” I lie, my hunger growing for her fear by the second.
I lick the neurons firing in her brain, needing to taste more of the fight or flight response firing in her system like fireworks.
“So afraid,” I growl in delight, my cock jerks in response.
Not for wanting her, but for wanting her fear.
The murderous shouts of agony have me pushing forward. I have the ability to see into her mind and see in real time, loving that I get to experience deaths by the wicked dreams I enforce.
Her worst fears come to life, the space around us fading into black. A large bonfire is lit, flames reaching for the imaginative sky that doesn’t exist.
Greta’s cries for help have me look up. She’s naked and tied to a long branch like a pig about to be roasted.
The fire isn’t big enough to burn her, and that will have to change. Using my shadow self, I throw more imaginary wood onto the fire, wanting the flames to stretch higher.
I want her pain.
I want her pleas for survival.
I want to smell her burning flesh.
“No! Please, I’ll do anything!” she screams, wiggling in the restraints she has created for herself.
The scent of her blood has my nostrils flaring. The bark from the tree is scratching the delicate surface of her skin.
“La-lala-la-laa-laaa,” my hungry nightmare sings.
Greta vomits. In her mind, gravity forces her puke into the fire, but in real time, it soaks her clothes and chin. She chokes and gags, unable to swallow or spit since she is paralyzed.
“Just think. If only you were a responsible person, I wouldn’t be happening to you.
I bet you’re thinking that right now, aren’t you?
I bet you’re wondering if you could turn back time, if you could make a different choice, then none of this would be happening.
” My maniacal, villainous laugh reverberates through the woods and travels through her mind so she can hear me.
“You can’t turn back time. You have to answer for your crimes, Greta. ”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. I’ll be done forever. I won’t hunt anymore. Please, let me go!” The fire climbs, the whimsical tips of the flames flicker and dance, closing the empty space between the bright orange blaze and her flesh.
From the heat alone, her body is already turning a beautiful shade of pink. I wonder how long before it burns and bubbles her skin off her bones.
Rage swells inside me. “Hunting? Have you learned nothing?” I roar, funneling my fury into the nightmare.
The fire explodes. The better version of me soaks in the smoke, ash, and embers; the nightmare swirling around in circles within the wild, unkept blaze.
I grow stronger as her fear builds.
The scorching heat is finally too much for her skin, and she screams so loud, it echoes into the empty night of her brain.
I love my abilities. I love that her pain is internalized. Her screams in her mind are mere whimpers in her throat as we stand in the middle of the woods.
No one will ever be able to hear the torment I’ve inflicted. Her death will always be questionable—a case that will never be solved.
Death is poetry, a sweet end to a complicated life. If anything, I’m doing her a favor.
“You’re a poacher, Greta. You don’t hunt. Killing for sport, killing to steal, killing in dozens is not hunting. You’re controlled by a nightmare, and yet you haven’t learned your lesson. What would it take, Greta? What would it take for you to see the errors of your ways?”
She sobs so hard, her body convulses. “I’m sorry.” She hangs her head, her long blonde hair falling down her shoulders. “I needed the money. I was desperate.”
“And what are you now, Greta? You’re just as desperate to live.”
My victim nods in agreement; her grunts of discomfort are making me hard. Glancing down, the sharp teeth open, and my cock blooms to its full two and a half foot length—an adaptation from the rhino DNA.
Stroking myself with both hands, I watch in pure fascination as the flames become stronger, growing higher, until there’s no more hope left for Greta.
My shadow-self morphs with the fire, turning the wild blaze a searing, unholy black.
“Mmmm,” I moan just as another scream clings to her throat.
The possessed fire finally reaches her, cooking her like she fears. She fights the edge of death, refusing to accept her fate.
Her flesh begins to roast, the scent of meat causing my mouth to water, reminding me how hungry I am—but not for Greta. All I want is the scent I’ve been following for two days.
Once I get my fix, I’ll be able to move on to another state. There are plenty of bad people in the world who need to die, and I’m happy to be the executioner since no one else can.
The world turns a blind eye to bad deeds, and I believe I was created to rid the world of them.
One by one, I’ll absorb their fears, their deaths, and become the lore everyone has feared since they were children. I’ll be the monster under their bed, the creature hiding in the closet, the noise they hear in their house at night.
I’ll become the story. I’ll change fiction into reality.
The boogeyman is real, and I have become him.
My nose twitches when I smell the burnt hair, causing me to lose my erection. The roots pull the long muscle into the anglerfish’s mouth before the sharp teeth close around it.
I laugh so loud, so deep, I know she can still hear me as the fire swallows her body.
Her screams are now silent, and all that’s left are the burnt bones and flesh of what she used to be.
Since her brain no longer exists, I can’t play with what she fears most, and I have to settle back into the boring landscape of reality. Her body is smoking from the flames, half of her skeleton is showing, and one of her eyes hangs from the socket.
With a soft poke against her shoulder, she falls to the side.
“I did make a promise, didn’t I? I can’t believe I almost forgot, Greta. Why didn’t you remind me?” I squat, digging my claws into her scalp, and yank it apart.
Her hair breaks, and what is left of her flesh begins to tear from the skull.
I begin to break her bones from her body, tearing each limb from the socket and shaking off the chunks of skin that were barely hanging on. The only step left is to find a way to clean the bones completely, so I can use them for the motorcycle I want to build.
If I remember correctly from when I took a few forensic science classes back when I was human, dermestid beetles are used to eat the flesh to clean them. Those are easy enough to find.
I dump the bag of antlers on the ground and replace them with Greta’s bones. She’s small, so they easily fit in the oversized duffel bag, especially in bits and pieces.
I’m so excited. I can’t wait to have a motorcycle that fits my new form.
Staring at her half-burnt face, I zip the bag shut, toss it over my shoulder, and admire the scene before I leave.
Two dead bodies and a pile of skin are all that’s left behind. The cause of death will be obvious, but what caused it? Who?
The police will never figure it out.
Giving the scene my back, I follow the warm citrus scent again through the darkness of the woods, using my vampire speed now that I’m not hunting Greta.
Thunder rolls through the night, lightning veining across the sky. In the next breath I take, rain begins to pour. I tilt my head back, allowing the water to rush down my face. It cleans the blood from my horns, the slight taste of iron ghosting over my lips.
I stop at the edge of a cliff, overlooking an abyss of emptiness, even though the aroma that has ruined my appetite is stronger. It’s as if whatever belongs to the delicious scent is right in front of me, yet I can’t see it.
I growl low in my throat, the roots spread across the ground as my frustration builds. Lightning pulsates again, illuminating what I thought was an empty space to show a small town nestled in the valley of the mountains.
My claws curl around the edge of the cliff, inhaling that scent again.
Yes. Yes.
The scent is coming from someone in that town.
Flipping over the edge, I sink my claws into the rock, gliding down the steep hill until I hit solid ground. On all fours, I crawl through wet leaves and twigs until I get to the tree line, staring down a black paved road that has buildings on either side.
No lights are on except for a small pink sign in the distance that says ‘Demi’s Diner’, and I don’t give a fuck about that place. All I want is to find the source of the scent so I can move on with my life.
Using my vampiric speed, the aromatic scent leads me straight to Cove Police Department. I stay slinked in the alley across the street, curious what is so special about this police station.
The building is made with a light-yellow brick, and it is squished between two taller establishments with red paint, causing the department to stick out like a sore thumb. The window on the front is wide and frosted, so citizens can’t see inside.
There’s one car parked out front. It’s an unmarked blue sedan with tinted windows, so no one can see inside.
With enhanced speed, I also have enhanced hearing and strength. Paired with the strong nature of the rhino DNA, I could cause so much damage.
Keys jingle from inside the station, and a second later, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen walks out. My nightmare begins to sing, wanting to sink into her bones until she fears me.
She uses the glow of her cellphone to illuminate the door to lock it. Not that locking anything would save her from me, but she can try. She looks over her shoulder, her eyes searching the street for the creeping sensation of someone watching her.
Beloved.
Mate.
Mine.
Three words are shouted in my mind from my beasts. I have no idea what the words mean, but what I do know is this woman belongs to me.
She’s my Little Dream.
Regardless of how succulent she is, her dreams aren’t safe from me either. I can’t wait to taste what she fears when she falls asleep tonight.
I’m going to follow her home, and I’m going to give her a taste of what’s to come.
The law can’t save her now.
Her nightmares are mine.