Page 12

C hapter 12

Naya

A creaking sound rouses me from my sleep, and I sit up in the cold bed, instantly noticing the vacant space beside me. For a moment, confusion hits me as I try to pinpoint where the noise came from.

Outside the room.

Another sound comes through, echoing in my head as I brace myself, quietly standing up. It’s louder now, coming ever closer, until the handle turns slowly, as if it’s taunting me. My eyes widen—it has to be Grey, right?

The door creaks open, and for a split of a second, my mind conjures up pictures of it being Arthur or Emilio. My lungs constrict with the way I hold my breath, not daring to make a sound, as I wait for the door to fully open with the silence suffocating me.

It’s just Grey.

A figure steps through the doorway, his posture slumped and clothes dirtied, a backpack slung over his shoulder—one I recognize well. He moves with deliberately careful steps, like a phantom in the breeze, trying to close the door behind him soundlessly.

My eyes trail down to his knuckles. They’re bruised, skin split and bleeding, but the blood has dried into crips. As the silhouette turns, I see Grey’s familiar features, along with the stubble after not shaving for days, and a fresh cut on his lip. Despite that, there’s a contentment in his expression that wasn’t there when I saw him before I fell asleep.

An anxious flutter echoes in my chest as a tight knot of apprehension coils in my stomach, intermingling with unease. Where did he go, and what did he do?

Grey stops in his tracks when he sees I’m awake, awkwardly smiling at me in a way to feign innocence, but I can see through his bullshit. Something is up.

“Morning.”

He did something—fought someone—but I cannot figure out why or who.

“Where were you?” I ask, suspicion coloring my tone.

My eyebrows raise when he steps closer, footsteps creaking through the silence. His posture is tensed, shoulders drawn tight.

“I was out. Don’t worry about it,” he says, words clipped and cryptic. “I have something I’d like to do with you.”

“What?”

He extends a hand for me to take, his fingers open, inviting mine to tangle with his. My hand hesitantly hovers in the air for a brief moment before I finally place it in his.

“Don’t worry.” His smile is kind yet full of mischief. He leads me out of the room, leaving our things behind the now open door.

The hallway is even colder than the room we slept in, but sunlight filters through the windows and offers a soothing touch of warmth. The ancient floor groans under our weights as we make our way down the stairs.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

I cannot help but fear the worst. What happened while I was asleep? More importantly, why didn’t he wake me up instead of going out alone?

“Tell me, Grey.”

“Patience, my love. Have I ever taken you somewhere against your will?”

“Last time you took me out, we ended up by a lake with a corpse.”

“Figured you could use a break from the whole ‘dead bodies’ scenery. This time, no crime scenes.”

I roll my eyes, a faint smile tugging at my lips. Fine, if he won’t tell me now, I’ll let him tell me later.

“Relax and let go, little doll. We still have time to live a little.” He nudges me with his shoulder before stopping me in my tracks.

I look up at him questioningly. “What is it?”

“You’re just so beautiful.”

I’m unable to find the words, and a blush creeps up my cheeks despite knowing he’s acting weird because of the fact that he’s hiding something.

“Let’s live a little today, okay?”

I contemplate it for a moment; he’s acting too weirdly, but he’s right. We haven’t done something for ourselves in months, and even then, we were locked up.

“Fine,” I grumble.

––––––––

“ARE YOU REALLY NOT going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask Grey when it feels as if we’ve been walking an eternity.

My feet are already aching, the pain from my self-inflicted wounds crawling up to my knees and radiating into my back. We’ve been walking so much these past few weeks that my body should be used to it by now, but it’s far from it.

“You really are impatient.” Grey chuckles, walking slightly ahead of me, yet still able to hold my hand.

“Well, I wouldn’t be impatient if you’d tell me.”

He merely looks back at me with a smirk, then gazes straight ahead again without offering a reply. I grunt in response, suspicion still rising to the surface at the thoughts of where he might lead me.

Branches creak beneath our feet, the leaves rustling as we traverse the path. We’re in some kind of forest, with a dirt trail stretching endlessly ahead. The summer heat reaches the trees, filtering through the thick canopy and radiating warmth that makes it more exhausting to walk.

It must take at least twenty minutes until I hear the sound of water running, splashing against rocks. Moments later, the smallest stream possible appears, running straight through an abandoned graveyard.

A metal archway far off bears the weathered sign “Millvale Graveyard.” My heart stalls as I behold the tragic beauty while Grey keeps walking, following the small stream.

The graveyard is littered with old gravestones, some overgrown with wildflowers and weeds, others abandoned to nature’s chaos. Trees form a dense circle around the site, yet sunlight manages to pierce through, illuminating the area without hindrance.

My mouth falls open, captivated by the macabre sight. A sense of tranquility and tragedy lingers in the air like a comforting blanket on a cold winter day, protecting you from all around. It’s as if we’ve stepped into another world, the stream weaving through the abandoned graveyard.

“Oh, wow.” The words escape me in a breath, my eyes searching for Grey as he steps into the middle of the circle of the open space within the forest.

He doesn’t say a word as he takes off the backpack, pulling out a light gray blanket, though it’s evident it’s been lying for a while, probably somewhere in his childhood home. I watch as his muscles stretch when he leans down again to retrieve something else, his shirt riding up, revealing a sliver of skin I cannot help but appreciate.

After all we’ve been through, it’s still hard to fathom that he’s mine.

“What’s this place?” I finally find myself asking, looking around again.

It’s truly beautiful in all its morbid glory.

He waves me over, waiting for me to sit on the blanket by the narrow stream. It’s small enough to step over with a single, big stride. I settle down and watch in silence as he keeps unpacking everything, waiting for his reply.

“I used to go here when things got too much at home. This was a place to hide, even if it’s macabre. Hiding among the dead.”

I smile, a strange fluttering sensation rippling through me.

This man before me is made of so many layers, and I think I’m finally peeling them all away until there’s only his heart and soul left—both of which belong to me.

The food looks delicious; sandwiches, soda, and fruits from a convenience store. My chest clenches at the thoughtfulness, and I lean in to kiss him deeply.

“It’s lovely,” I tell him.

“I think I lied. Technically, we’re in a place with the dead, but no corpses visible. That counts for something, right?”

My chuckle rumbles my shoulders, and it surprises me that I can even make such a joyful sound even after everything. Grey brings out the best in me; the parts I didn’t think I’d ever get to experience. Not with my upbringing or what I’ve gone through.

We enjoy our picnic, savoring the food we haven’t had for years. I couldn’t be more content with him by my side.

I wonder how he could afford all this when we’ve been scraping by, living on the few groceries we had left. My eyes fall to his bruised knuckles, and I bite my tongue to keep me from asking. It would only ruin the moment.

What did he do to get so much money? Unease spreads through me, but when he brushes his knuckles along my cheek and kisses me until my back falls flat against the hard ground, all thoughts and worries fly away as if taken by the wind and carried far away outside of the forest.

His kiss makes me feel safer than I’ve ever felt with anyone before. I’ve never had a safe place, but Grey Madden has become the safest place of all.

His lips part, igniting a feverish frenzy that makes me lose control of all sanity. The graveyard’s eerie setting and silence fades into the background as the intensity of his kiss consumes me completely, wholly, utterly.

With deliberate, heated movements, he slides my cargo pants down to my ankles, then sheds his jeans. He leans in, brushing his lips against the scars on my wrists—those caused by both of us. I swallow hard, my eyes fixed on the fading tissue where the rope sat tightly around my wrists our very last day back at the dollhouse.

“Eyes up here,” Grey demands, pulling me back to the present.

I meet his intense eyes, my breath hitching as his fingers hook underneath my damp panties. My arousal is undeniable, and I refuse to be ashamed of it.

“My little doll is so wet,” Grey mumbles.

Without another word, he slides a finger deep inside my slick opening, and my moan rings out, mingling with the rustling of the trees. He delivers a sharp slap to my pussy, leaving a stinging sensation rippling through me, then plunges his fingers in again, making me clench around him. Lifting my shirt with his other hand, he rubs one of my nipples before leaning down and taking it into his mouth. He sucks and licks, alternating between the two until I’m on the brink of losing control. Just as I’m about to unravel, my moans carried away by the breeze, he abruptly pulls back, leaving me gasping in frustration.

“What the fuck?” I scream.

He slaps my pussy sharply in response, making me even more wet and buckling my hips in a desperate motion to get what I need.

“Take me out,” he orders, and I obey, clenching my thighs to get that freaking friction he denied me.

He’s still laying above me, and he’s hard, cock straining against his boxers as I remove them. I can feel the steady pulse of his length in my hand.

“Now open your legs for me.”

I do as he says, eager for that relief I know only he can provide.

“Good girl.”

His hands roam my body, exploring every curve with an intensity that makes me shiver. He prods my entrance, teasing me with a slow push until he finally slides inside me. A whimper escapes me in pleasure as he fucks me deeply, each thrust meeting my hips on instinct with a perfect rhythm.

My inner wall clenches as he fucks me into oblivion. Each stroke finds that sensitive spot, making me cry out. We move together in a dance of raw intimacy, our breaths mingling together in the chilly atmosphere. The pleasure charges the air until it feels as if it will consume me and bring me to the afterlife.

I’m already teetering on the edge, the denial of my orgasm heightening the ache.

“Don’t you dare come, little doll,” he breathes harshly, thrusting relentlessly.

“I’m going to—” I cry, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as he pinches my nipples, then slaps them.

His hand goes up to my throat, squeezing with well-renowned precision. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

I want to curse at him, say ‘fuck it’ to his orders, but the threat of losing my release entirely looms all too seriously.

“Say you can’t take it if you want me to pull out. Or say you can handle it if you want more,” he growls.

“That’s not how it works,” I moan.

He slows his thrusts, and I cry out with frustration.

“Then show me just how much you can take, little doll. Prove to me what a good doll you can be.”

Desperation and need flood my senses, like an addict needing their next fix, and the withdrawal they suffer without it.

“I can handle it,” I manage to gasp, my voice unsteady with both defiance and desire.

“Good little doll,” he purrs, then thrusts harder and deeper, driving me to the edge.

Every muscle in my body quakes as I fight against myself not to orgasm, pushing away the pleasure making me want to fall apart.

“Look at you, begging for me among the dead,” he taunts.

“I thought you said it wasn’t a date with the dead,” I breathe out.

“Seems like I was lying again,” he smirks, his grip on my throat firm, keeping the oxygen from fully entering my lungs yet allowing me just enough to breathe.

It causes a pleasure unlike anything else when he bites down on my nipple, continuing to thrust into me with feverish movements that make it hard to resist the pull to fall over.

“You’ll black out soon,” he taunts, breath hot against my skin. “If you do, you won’t get your sweet release.”

The tension in my body becomes a crescendo when he fucks me harder, ruthlessly, amidst the dead in a graveyard long since abandoned.

“This has to be the worst place we’ve fucked in.”

“True, but you love it.”

He fucks me with urgency, and my hands finds his back, the muscles stretching taut with his motions. I can’t help but dig down my nails into his skin, making him hiss out a breath.

“I’ll give you five seconds to come, or you won’t get to at all.”

“I hate you,” I moan, frustration welling up on the inside.

“Sure you do.”

Then I fall apart, and he follows suit, releasing his grip on my throat and pressing his forehead against mine. I gasp for breath, our exhales mingling together in a cacophony of peace.

Our hearts race in tandem as we lie tangled together on the forest floor. As he brushes a strand of hair from my forehead, a spark of mischief lights up his sapphire eyes. He helps me get dressed and holds me when I stand.

Taking my hand, he guides our bodies in sync, exhaustion yet contentment filling me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, bewildered by the shift of actions after he just fucked me into next week.

The rhythm of our breaths slow down to a gentler pace, sweat glistening on our bodies. He leads me into a tender dance, moving with precision, the steps reminiscent of the ball at the dollhouse. Only this time, there’s no music, just the intimate sound of our beating hearts.

“We’re dancing,” he says softly.

A giggle escapes me, touched by the absurd yet romantic gesture. “Why?”

“Your first dance was with my brother. Let me be your second and last dance,” he whispers in my ear.

I can’t resist kissing him again, drunk on the feeling of doing so, my heart bursting with the intensity of my feelings.

Oh, how I wish I could stay in this moment forever. But the world around us is relentlessly dragging us down, never allowing our sanctuary to last.