Page 51
Story: Grave Possession
“Mallory…”
“What if you tell Officer Smith that you’re covered in glitter because I was your own personal stripper?”
“You know I’m not a liar, baby.”
“Well… What if I make it the truth?”
“I still wouldn’t tell him that.”
“Why not?”
“Because then I’d have to leak his brain out his ears for having the image of you stripping in his head.” She rolls her eyes, but smiles at my violent nature. “Like that, do you?” I croon.
“No,” she says through a smirk.
“So blood-thirsty,” I say, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. “Be right back.” I stand, and watch her slip beneath the dark water. Waiting for her to resurface before I leave, just so I know she’s conscious. She had a terrible habit of falling asleep in the tub before.
Time ticks by as I wait, nervousness swelling into a large mass in my chest. How long can she hold her fucking breath? Jesus.
Her hand shoots up from below the water and I panic. Reaching for it, she swats me away.What the fuck?Mallory makes a shooing motion with her hand then points to the door, signalling me to leave.
Yes, ma’am.
Looks like I’m getting covered in fucking silver sparkles.
Chapter Thirty-six
Mallory
So blood-thirsty.
If he only fucking knew.
I’ve been warring with that god damn voice in my head for the past three and a half weeks. While he’s completely aroused I killed his traitorous comrade, I guarantee he’d be less than pleased to know I killed and tortured an innocent woman.
You want to do it again, the voice whispers in my head.
Fuck, of all the things I’m dealing with since coming back, a lust for killing shouldn’t be one of them.
Embrace me, and I’ll help you with those pesky nightmares.
The sickly-sweet words slither through my grey matter, and I unleash a scream beneath the water’s surface. It’s a cathartic outpouring of my frustrations until my lungs burn. I break the surface before heaving in a mouthful of bath water, and try to calm the racing of my heart.
My head falls back against the edge of the massive tub, eyes falling shut as peacefulness eventually finds me.
“Your sandwich, my love.” Nox kneels beside the tub, extending the plate like a servant while so enticingly naked.
I sit up, moving to grab the plate from his hand. The smell wafting up from the deli meat hits me like a freight train, and invisible hands violently constrict my air flow.
Feed me.
I cut out her esophagus and used it like a fleshlight. Spilling my cum down her throat over and over until it shrivelled up and rotted.
Pass it to me with your tongue.
Pushing away the plate, I try to stand. “Get it away,” I mumble, dizzy and nauseous, unable to see straight. Staggering in the slick porcelain tub, Johnson’s laughter rings in my head.
Hands grab at me, but I push them away.
Table of Contents
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