Chapter 10
Heather
Warm water rushes over me. I must have died and gone to heaven. Thick fingers brush over my face, wiping away the sweat and tears clumping my lashes together. Soapy leather smooths over my features as low vibrations melt my bones.
I knit my brows in confusion. Why is he wearing his gloves in the shower?
I pop into awareness and stiffen as adrenaline floods my veins. Heat barrels up from my toes and infects every inch of me until I pant and writhe in desperate need.
I push the hand away from my face and turn my head out of the shower spray.
In what must be an old farmhouse bathroom, I stand wedged between two massive bodies in the largest clawfoot tub I’ve ever seen. Beyond the water raining from the extra-large showerhead and the plastic shower curtain, the wood flooring, double vanity, toilet, and subway tiled walls all seem well maintained despite their age.
A plastic bottle crinkles behind me. I look up and stare in shock as I meet glowing red eyes. In the bright lights of the bathroom, I study my muzzled scarecrow’s face and realize the burlap isn’t a mask.
It’s his skin.
Without his hat covering his head, the water plasters his dark hair to his forehead and his eerie red eyes shine from pitch black sockets.
Not a mask. Not human. Monster.
My monster.
His muzzle tilts in a devilish smirk as my fear fades and hunger grows.
Hard muscles and soft curves slide against each other as the male behind me pulls my hair and angles my chin toward him. He presses the rim of a plastic water bottle to my lips.
“Drink, my spicy little pumpkin, so I can feast on your slick,” says the scarecrow with scar stitching over his face.
Without his ball cap and varsity jacket, he looks younger somehow, but the wicked glint in his crimson eyes and the square cut of his jaw promise such intense pleasure my insides clench.
I’m empty. So empty.
He tilts the water bottle. I scrunch my nose, intending to spit the liquid in his face since it isn’t what I really want, but as soon as the cool water hits my tongue, thirst sweeps through me, and I guzzle as fast as he allows. When he tries to pull the bottle away before I finish, I growl like an animal and glare at him.
His heavy-lidded stare fuels the inferno in my core, but although he challenges me with a quirked brow, he humors me and allows me to empty the bottle.
It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
Lightning arcs down my spine as smooth leather kneads my breasts and pinches my nipples. Magma rages through my veins and gushes down my inner legs, so much hotter than the water raining down on us.
Every cell in my body hovers on the verge of implosion as two masculine rumbles fill the space.
“More, spicy pumpkin. We both need to feast, after all,” my scarred scarecrow murmurs against my temple as he presses a full bottle of water to my lips. I drink, but as my thirst fades, my hunger grows.
Soapy fingers play over my curves. My muzzled scarecrow touches every inch of me until I hover on the edge of insanity. I turn away from the empty water bottle, sink my fingers into his hair, and rise onto my tiptoes, silently demanding a kiss.
He grabs my jaw and halts me before our lips touch. I snarl only to hiss as pain streaks through my scalp.
“Don’t move, Heather, or we’ll rut you in the shower until the hot water runs out, then fuck you on the counter with your face pressed to the mirror before knotting you on the bathroom floor,” my scarred scarecrow murmurs against my nape.
The unhinged bitch inside me screams yes, please, I want that right fucking now, while my logical side demands I run as far away as fast as possible.
Neither matter as sadness wells up inside me. Bigger than the ocean and more powerful than a tsunami, the emotion steals every ounce of my control and traps me in the ruthless undertow. Waves batter me from every direction. I bury my face against my scarecrow’s hard chest and cling to him as though my life depends on it. When water runs down my back, I reach behind me and tug my living blanket closer until his front mashes against my back.
My monsters’ voices register as they speak to each other over my head, but I’m too distraught to decipher their words through the storm, so I press my forehead against one scarecrow’s sternum and sink my fingernails into the other’s arm. My hair curtains around my face, blocking the water and closing me in a small, comfortable space. Delicious male musk fills my nostrils.
“Why are you crying, doll?”
His chest rumbles under my forehead. I take a shuddering breath and search for words.
“It’s not fair,” I say.
“Of course it isn’t,” the monster at my back responds. “It’s two alphas against one tiny omega. Nothing about this is supposed to be fair.”
I shake my head.
“That’s not what I meant.”
My entire body shifts as the chest I’m pressing my face against expands.
“Then what did you mean, doll?”
For a moment, I struggle to breathe through my frustration, but when the male behind me sighs, angry words burst from my throat.
“It’s not fair how much you know about me when I know absolutely nothing about you.”
Thick fingers trail up and down my sides.
“You know the most important things,” the asshole says from behind me.
I lift my head and scowl at him over my shoulder. My less frustrating scarecrow guides my face up to his with a knuckle under my chin.
“What do you want to know?” he asks.
The band around my chest loosens and I take a deep breath for the first time in what feels like a thousand years.
“What’s your name?”
When he hesitates, the feral woman trapped in my mind screams in fury while my heart shrivels in despair, but an unexpected trickle of calm leaks in through the connection between my soul and the alpha at my front.
The hairs on my nape rise as the alpha behind me grabs my waist and dips his fingertips toward the juncture of my thighs.
“Just call him city boy like I do. He answers quite well to asshat, too.”
I grind my teeth as anger colors my vision, but the scarecrow with his front pressed against mine skims his knuckle along my jaw before cupping the side of my face and stroking his thumb under the cut on my cheek.
“If I hear my name come from your pretty little mouth, I’ll lose control and fuck your throat until your belly is so full of my seed you’ll forget your own name.”
The ground disappears from under my feet and I freefall as he grinds his hard cock against my belly and leans down to capture the shell of my ear between his teeth. After a stinging nip, he swirls his tongue along my ear and whispers.
“Understand, doll?”
His gruff voice sends shivers down my spine.
I nod.
“Since I won’t get to hear my name from your lips until you’re writhing underneath me, use your voice to tell me you understand.”
His breath ghosts over my ear before he steals a teasing lick.
“I understand,” I say through the lump of need lodged in the base of my throat.
“Good girl.”
My bones melt and the feral female trapped inside my mind preens.
I jolt as the jerk behind me closes his mouth over the wound on my shoulder. Blinding pleasure streaks through me, and after a moment of wonderful agony, my senses heighten. The hard planes of muscle flattening my breasts rub against my sensitive nipples. My clit throbs as they grind their cocks against my belly and lower back. Unbearable need twists my insides.
Astringent pheromones punch into my nostrils as angry snarls ring in my ears. As the filling in their alpha sandwich, I writhe as they shove each other, neither willing to give an inch as they jockey for dominance. When the male behind me runs his tongue over my bite mark, I shatter.
At my low, throaty moan, they freeze and shift their full attention to me.
I can’t breathe. My entire abdomen tightens, and what seems like a never-ending flood of wetness runs down my legs. Locked in the most painful bout of pleasure imaginable, I orgasm around nothing until my head spins and the world dims.
The asshole behind me finally lifts his head. I suck down a desperate breath and sob as my knees give out.
My alphas don’t let me fall very far. Massive arms catch me and gather me into a cradle hold against the broadest chest. I lean my head against my muzzled alpha’s shoulder and close my eyes.
After a few snarled words and a tense moment where I imagine them glaring at each other, the water turns off and the shower curtain whips open.
Cool air wafts over my heated flesh.
I lie like a rag doll as my mates work together—albeit with much hostility—to dry me from head to toe and wrap my hair in a towel. They exchange words again, but the aggression in their posturing is too much for me to handle, so I ignore them and focus on recovering from being turned inside out by desire.
“Open your eyes and show me those gorgeous baby blues, doll,” my muzzled scarecrow murmurs from above me.
I meet his eerie red orbs. My insides pulse as though they’re ready to combust again. With his ass propped on the bathroom counter and his hard cock wedged against my hip, he trails his gloved fingertips over my features as though memorizing every centimeter.
“My name is Vincent. I haven’t heard my name in over five decades, so use it wisely, yeah?”
My heart gives a prolonged squeeze.
“Five decades?”
The raspy quality of my voice shouldn’t surprise me after the intensity of my unfulfilling orgasm, but it does.
His muzzle shifts in a grimace, but he nods and says, “I’ve been a scarecrow for fifty years.”
“We’ve both been scarecrows for fifty years. Sathanas changed us on the same night,” my jerk mate says from the doorway. “Or did you forget how we beat each other to death over some useless whore?”
All thoughts bleed from my head. I stare in wide-eyed shock at Vincent. My heart sinks as he doesn’t refute the shocking revelation.
I need to get out of here. Now.
Vincent tightens his arms around me. I turn my attention to my other scarecrow mate as he crosses the floor and looms so close his body heat seeps into my side.
“Let me go,” I demand in a surprisingly clear voice.
When both monsters open their mouths to speak, I cut them off with a snarl so menacing, part of me wonders if a wild beast gained possession of my body.
“You’re both fucking idiots. Get the hell away from me.”
A cramp seizes my abdomen and steals my breath. Fluid gushes from my pussy and drenches Vincent’s legs. Black dots dance along my hazy vision. My nipples peak and sensitize until the air brushing over them is too much.
“We’re not going anywhere, little pumpkin. You’re in heat,” says the male I want to escape most.
I meet his scarred face and tremble as he strokes my damp tendrils of hair, tucking a few back under the towel with surprising gentleness.
“In heat? Like a bitch? Like a literal female dog jonesing for dick because she’s fertile?”
Despite the fury and dismissal in my tone, he smirks and trails his fingers down my throat.
“Yes, exactly like a bitch in heat, except the difference is your mates are scarecrows, not dogs.”
“There’s a difference?”
His eyes widen at my challenge before he narrows an insulted glare at me.
Gloved digits cup my breast and roll my nipple between their thumb and forefinger. I groan and rub my thighs together, desperate for friction on my clit.
“Yes, there’s a difference, Heather. We’re more territorial than dogs. More dominant.” Vincent pinches my nipple and drops his voice an octave. “More demanding. We’ll take everything from you, wring every ounce of pleasure from your body, use you until you beg us to stop, then demand more.” He flicks my nipple with his thumb and grips the whole of my breast in a ruthless display of ownership. “We’re monsters, doll. Insatiable monsters.”
Despite the heat in my belly, I scoff and push at their hands, but neither of them heed my silent demands.
“You may have murdered my boyfriend before I could break up with him—” my stomach lurches as I recall Charles’ gruesome death, but even though a sliver of guilt works through me, my current predicament takes precedence, “—but you can bet your narrow-minded, egotistical asses I’m not getting involved with two idiots who are so hot-headed they’ll murder each other if I sneeze in the wrong direction.”
“It’s not the sneezing we’re concerned about, my spicy little pumpkin.”
A half scoff, half laugh escapes from my throat.
“Really? That’s your response? What a—”
I gasp as gloved digits squeeze my throat so hard my pulse pounds behind my eyes. Vincent tightens his arm around me, wedges his hand between my thighs, and pushes my legs apart. My scarred scarecrow hums, grabs my breast, and sinks two fingers deep into my pussy. My clit throbs against the heel of his palm.
Vincent’s muzzle brushes against my temple as he murmurs in my ear.
“There’s no escaping us, doll. You’re ours.”
A wanton moan leaks from my chest as my scarred alpha curls his fingers inside me.
“We may not agree on anything else, but the city slicker is right. You’re ours, Heather.”
I swallow. Vincent flexes his digits around my throat.
“Still not fair,” I manage through my compressed vocal cords.
I writhe as they chuckle and each torture me in their own way. Vincent licks and nips along my jaw and ear and loosens his grip on my throat, while the asshole tugging at my nipple works his fingers in and out of me in slow motion.
“Is this your way of asking what my name is, little omega?”
I try to scowl at him, but he grinds his palm against my clit and the pleasure streaking through me steals my breath.
“I’d rather you ask nicely, like the good little girl I know you can be. Go ahead, Heather. Ask me my name.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“Did you hear that, city boy? She asked me to rut her first,” he snarls.
Fireworks detonate in my core as he jabs his thick fingers in and out of my sopping pussy. I writhe and choke as the hand around my throat tightens.
They attack in unison, building my orgasm until I teeter on the edge of insanity, only to stop before I explode.
I whine as they leave me empty and needy.
The world shifts and cool air brushes over my heated flesh. I blink in confusion as dark shapes ghost along my vision, until my muzzled scarecrow steps into a room with light, and I realize the shapes were photos on the hallway walls.
Two lamps cast a soft yellow glow over the massive four-poster bed, complete with gauzy canopy, yards and yards of soft linen, stacks of pillows, and an odd assortment of stuffed animals in the middle. I stare in shock as a primitive yearning fills me. My fingers itch to knead and fluff while my skin tingles in anticipation of sliding between layers of silky fabric.
Vincent strides forward and dips down to fling open the chest at the foot of the bed. The scents of cedar and sunlight fill my nostrils, but after my initial enjoyment, the fragrance turns sour on my tongue. I prefer the earthy smell seeping from both of my alphas.
Wonder sweeps through me, ending my musings and dampening my lust. I stare at the utopia of soft, fluffy things and dream of diving inside the chest.
I lean forward and whine as Vincent steps out of reach. He skirts around the corner of the bed and shuffles sideways to fit his shoulders in the narrow space between the wall and the canopy before shifting me to one arm and grabbing the handle of the lowest drawer on the dresser. He opens each drawer with leashed fury, giving me just enough time to glimpse the contents before moving to the next.
I whine and fight harder to escape his hold as he moves away, but as he repeats the motion on the dresser on the opposite side of the bed, I stop fighting and watch with rapt fascination.
He pushes my other mate out of the way and yanks the closet door open to reveal the overflowing shelves.
My head spins. I need to pile every scrap of comfort on the bed and burrow inside.
Smooth leather guides my chin to my muzzled alpha’s face.
“Fifty years’ worth of preparation, doll, and it’s all yours under one condition.”
A needy sound escapes my throat. He smirks and dips his face closer until his breath wafts over my lips as he speaks.
“Say you want me to rut you first. Say you want my knot locked in your pussy for hours while he waits his turn.”
I shiver and sink my nails into his chest as my muzzled scarecrow licks my bottom lip. Lust and yearning war within me so fiercely words refuse to form, so I nod and tilt my head, offering him full access to my mouth.
His dark chuckle as he nips my lower lip arrows straight to my womb. He gives my other mate a taunting glance before turning toward the bed and lowering himself to his knees, propping my ass on the mattress while still cradling me to his chest.
When he leans over and sweeps the pillows toward me, I squeak and snatch them up in a hug.
He pulls a thick quilt from the dresser and holds it out of reach.
“Want more, doll?” he asks.
I nod.
“Use your words. Tell me you want me first,” he coaxes.
“I want you first.”
He rewards me with the quilt. I bury my face in the fabric and bask in the softness. He rolls me onto the bed and pins me facedown with his hands splayed over my back as he sucks his mark on my neck.
I open my mouth on a silent scream and slick all over the sheets as my core clenches on nothing. With my face trapped in the quilt, I miss the compelling scents of my scarecrows.
Vincent releases me, stands, and tosses a pile of fabric onto my back. I scramble to inspect each new item, but frustration ruins my glee, so I snarl and fling a random item toward each of my alphas.
“Make them smell better,” I demand.
After a moment of surprise, their eyes darken with depraved delight and they rub the fabric over their naked bodies. I strip the bed down to the mattress and separate the linen equally between my two alphas. When the first item to return to me lacks the scent I want most, I snarl, ball it up, and throw it back toward my scarred scarecrow.
“More,” I demand.
He quirks a brow and saunters closer until his thighs press against the mattress.
“I don’t think there is more,” he says in a voice ripe with condescension.
My body leaps without my permission. I launch myself across the distance, snatch the blanket from his fingers, and close my fists around his cock with the fabric between us. He grunts and hisses as I stroke him from base to tip with relentless hands.
When I deem the wet spot large enough, I yank the material away and shove a different blanket against his chest.
“More,” I snarl.
His deep rumble travels down my spine and infects my veins, and heat pulses through me as he pulls my head back by my hair.
“You only get more if you earn more. Focus on me, my spicy little pumpkin, and take what you want.”
I scowl, bury my nails into his wrist, and pry myself free of his grasp.
“No. If you can’t give me what I need, he will,” I say with a head tilt toward my muzzled scarecrow.
I’ll relish his startled expression and his fear pulsing through our bond for the rest of my life. After a moment of silent deliberation, he strokes his cock and releases a stream of viscous fluid into the next blanket.
Vincent tosses his first item onto the mattress and reaches for another.
My scarred alpha leans over the bed and snatches up both the discarded blanket and a third not-yet-scented sheet. I hiss and grab for the stolen material, but he rubs his seed into it before I free it from his grasp.
I bury my face in the fabric and moan in bliss. It’s perfect.
Instinct takes over. I fluff, spread, stack, knead, and fold all sorts of soft things together. To the tune of my alphas’ grunts and growls as they mark my nesting materials, I create a masterpiece on the four-poster bed. Time warps as I build a comfortable, safe place to suffer through my worsening symptoms.
When I stuff the last pillow into place, I pause and study the piles of softness surrounding me, realizing the size of my construction for the first time. I wriggle into the layers and crawl to the center, eager to test my creation, but it’s too big for only me.
I contemplate ignoring the incessant chanting in my head, but after gritting my teeth through a brutal cramp, I give in and work my way to the side.
When I lift the top layers off my head, Vincent’s beautifully terrifying cock fills my vision.
My mouth waters, but before I can catch the precum dripping from his tip with my tongue, he captures my chin and growls.
“The second you touch me is the second I lose control and knot your closest hole. Understand, doll?”
Wetness runs down my inner thighs. I whimper and nod.
“What do you need?” he asks.
For a moment, I can’t force my brain to form words, but he understands what I need as I glance between him and my place of safety.
“Are you inviting me into your nest, doll?”
I nod. His muzzle lifts in a handsome smile.
“Good girl. Show me where you want me,” he murmurs with a gentle caress of my throat. I swallow and slink back between the layers. He follows with utmost care to preserve my hard work and lies on his back in the center.
I like the way his broad shoulders fit between the pillows, but there’s still too much space and not enough warmth. With begrudging acceptance, I crawl over Vincent to the other side of the bed and peek out from between the layers of my nest.
My animosity lessens as I glimpse the anguish in his unguarded expression.
He doesn’t expect me to invite him in, and for some inexplicable reason, he wants my permission. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll destroy my creation if I deny him entry, but the sheer longing emanating from his eerie red orbs echoes in my soul.
I reach out to him with a cautious hand. He weaves his fingers within mine and flashes a victorious smirk down at me before ducking between the sheets. I hiss and scramble backward, damaging my nest, and squeak when Vincent pulls me on top of him.
My breasts pillow against his hard stomach. Hot flesh glides against hot flesh as he yanks me up his body, takes my mouth in a searing kiss, parts my legs around his waist, and grinds his massive cock through my drenched folds.
True to his promise, my alpha loses control. He fits the head of his cock to my entrance and thrusts into me without warning.
I splinter. His invasion hurts despite my readiness. Liquid desire spurts from between us as my insides clench around his gigantic cock. He snarls and dominates my mouth. With ruthless strokes of his tongue and cock, he ravages me so thoroughly I forget to breathe.
The metallic scent of blood weaves into the thick alpha pheromones coating my nostrils as I claw at his chest. His thick fingers dig into my hips and hold me steady for his brutal thrusts. Pressure grows in my abdomen even as lightning strikes my womb and starts a round of unforgiving orgasms.
Sweat drips down my body.
Cruel, calloused fingers squeeze my ass, scratch up my sides, and wedge between our bodies to pinch my nipples and knead my breasts.
It’s too much. My orgasms merge into an unending release. Vincent’s hungry growl vibrates on my tongue as he pistons in and out of me, working his partially engorged knot through my entrance with each thrust. I drown in delicious pain as he stretches my tissues to the edge of their endurance.
My gums ache. The urge to bite him steals a whimper from my chest.
Burlap knuckles brush against my scalp as my scarred alpha fists my hair and pulls my head back. I suck down much needed oxygen and pant as my muzzled scarecrow growls his displeasure.
When my second mate presses his chest to my back and reaches between my legs, I stiffen.
He shoves my face into the unmarred crook of Vincent’s neck. Instinct steals my control and I bite so hard blood floods my mouth.
Our bond strengthens. My muzzled alpha growls and jerks me down onto his cock. I clench my jaw as his knot balloons behind my pubic bone, rearranging my organs and locking us together.
Through the glorious chaos, my jerk of a second mate fits the head of his cock to my asshole and presses his lips to my ear.
“The city slicker may get the first dibs of your pussy, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to wait for him to finish. Bear down, my spicy little pumpkin. This will hurt,” he murmurs.
His gruff voice and smug tone weave into my euphoria. Too overwhelmed for words, I shake my head, savaging Vincent’s shoulder.
I claw and fight for freedom as he pushes harder against my virgin asshole, but my muzzled alpha’s knot traps me in place. Stretched to the edge of my endurance, my eyes roll to the back of my head as fresh seed spurts from Vincent’s dick and increases the pressure in my womb.
With a tug of my hair, my scarred alpha snarls in my ear, “Open your mouth, Heather, and scream my name as I fuck your ass.” I release my bite and shake my head. “C’mon, my spicy little pumpkin, say James in your sexy, throaty voice.”
Tears drip from my lashes and land on Vincent’s savaged flesh. He groans and flexes his digits into my hips as he releases another wave of seed into my core. A surge of spite courses through me, and I decide to hurt James in the only way I can, even though it’s dirty.
“Please, Vincent,” I whisper.
I don’t know what I’m asking for, but my muzzled alpha swings bright red eyes down at me, spotlighting me in his eerie glow.
James snarls and forces his entire length into my unwilling backside.
I die a million deliciously gruesome deaths.
He pulls out. Shoves in. Pulls back out.
I die a trillion more times, shattering into smaller and smaller pieces with each brutal thrust until I drift through time and space like fine dust particles. Rainbows with colors too brilliant for the naked eye dance through my vision.
James grabs my throat from behind and pulls my face up toward the ceiling. I subconsciously realize we’ve ruined my nest, but can’t bring myself to care.
“I won’t stop until you beg me, my spicy little pumpkin,” he groans with his lips against my ear.
“Please, James,” I moan.
His frenzied pace launches me to an alternate universe. He angles my face to his neck. I bite down. He buries his cock deeper into my body and knots my ass as our connection flares with blinding light.
Wedged between my two mates with their knots locked in my pussy and ass, their blood coating my tongue and filling my belly, and our souls woven together through supernatural bonds, I find a peace I never thought possible.
My life may never be easy—especially not with these two overbearing, egotistical scarecrows—but there’s no one else in the universe I’d rather have as my mates. I’ll solve whatever issues they have with each other, because, unlike the bitch they fought over as humans, I won’t let them kill each other.
Vincent, with his high-handed and intense care, is mine. James and all his assholery belongs to me.
I’ll protect them at all costs. I need them both.
They’re mine.
My mates. My alphas. My scarecrows.
Mine.
Forever.
Next in series: Ghouls and Girth (The Knottiverse: Halloween Monsters Book 4) .
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