Page 64 of Conjure

He likes that admission, if his small smirk is of any indication.

“I don’t want you to breathe around me.”

I bite into another strawberry, and his eyes darken until my toes curl.

“I’m sore,” I explain. “I need a break from your…intensity.”

“I can still fuck your mouth.” His dimpled smile grows impossibly wide, blinding in its beauty. “Or your ass. Besides”—he removes the plate and crawls on top of me—“I’ll have your pussy whether you’re sore or not.”

And then he proceeds to fuck me until I don’t know my own name anymore.

EIGHTEEN

CAMRYN

A single rippledisturbs the glassy lake beneath the moon’s ethereal glow.

I watch it travel toward shore, growing in size the closer it gets. Cold water laps at my feet, and I step back out of instinct before the tangible evil that lurks beneath the surface reaches out to grab me.

Before it finally claims me.

As a gentle breeze shifts my hair around my shoulders, another ripple slowly travels along the surface toward shore.

A burst of bubbles follows, and I watch, with my breath caught in my throat, as a car reemerges, bobbing in the water.

Overhead, the moon’s light reflects off the wetness, the windows resembling endless, black voids.

Whispers emanate from its shadowy depth, calling my name and drawing me closer. As they lure me to step into the lake, cold water laps at my bare feet once more.

I’m caught in a trance, staring at the bobbing car, my damp nightgown brushing against my ankles as I sway, shivering in the late-night breeze.

“You killed him.”

Caught by surprise, I spin around.

Dominic blends with the night as though he commands it. Maybe he does. Maybe that’s why the moon takes refuge behind the clouds when he emerges from the shadows.

A predator on the prowl.

“Dominic?” I ask uncertainly as I take a single hesitant step back.

“You’re a murderer.”

“I didn’t kill your dad. It was an accident.”

He cocks his head and cuts me into pieces with his cold, assessing gaze. There’s no affection in those orbs. None of the previous conflict, only calculative cruelness.

“You can keep telling yourself that, but we both know you’re lying to yourself.” A yelp escapes me when he surges forward and grips me by the throat. “You’re a murderous little slut.”

I try to fight him, but he forces me to the ground. He’s too strong. His shadow looms over me from behind, and I gulp when I see his reflection in the glassy lake.

His black eyes glare. “Say hi to Dad from me. Maybe you can suck his dick in Hell.” With his fingers digging into my nape, he shoves my head beneath the surface.

Water rushes in my ears as panic flares, and bubbles escape my lips. I thrash, consumed by overwhelming panic.

Somewhere below, a lullaby drifts closer.

An eerie melody.