Page 11 of Ghouls and Girth (The Knottiverse: Halloween Monsters #4)

Daisy

Another wave of heat rolls up from my toes. Electricity fizzles along my nerve endings. Slippery wetness gushes down my thighs. Urgency pulses in my core. My nipples pebble. Cool air wafts over my sensitive flesh.

Hollowness plagues my insides despite the rawness between my legs.

Ants sting my back as I curl forward, the torn flesh from my stepfather’s belt ripping open again.

I use the pain to center my mind and straighten my back. Neither man looks repentant when I glare at them.

“We made you ours, little one,” Umar rumbles.

“You are omega now, and on the cusp of your first heat,” Khalid smirks.

The satisfaction on their faces pisses off the crazy lady attached to my new persona, and she leaps into control before I can stop her.

She grabs the candelabra on the corner of the table and throws it across the tomb at them. Neither dodges. It clips their shoulders before crashing through the stained-glass window.

Everything is wrong. It’s too bright. Too cold. Too loud and open.

We aren’t safe here. We need somewhere small and cozy, with nothing but soft fabric and hard male bodies surrounding me.

I shake my head and snatch the sconce off the wall.

This is too much. I haven’t even processed the loss of my virginity, much less the fact two ghouls fucked me at the same time.

Or the terrifying way their cocks ballooned inside me and trapped me between them.

None of this is real. I must be having a super lucid nightmare.

“I’m not an animal; I don’t go into heat, and I’m not yours.”

I spit the words, but I don’t believe them. These men are woven into the very fabric of my soul. I cannot ignore their influence in my heart or the power they have over my body.

“She’s magnificent,” Mr. Swanky Grouchypants—also known as Khalid—purrs.

His deep voice vibrates all the way to my toes. I long to melt into a puddle on the floor but snarl and lift the sconce above my head, ready to chuck it at them if they step any closer.

“Yes, she is. She’s perfect,” Mr. Grunty Hunk—my personal yoga trainer by the name of Umar—rumbles as though I’m not threatening to throw a sharp, flammable item at them while naked and covered in filth.

They step forward as a united front. My hackles rise. I inch away and cock my arm back further.

A chilly draft hits my calves and works its way up my body as my heel finds a drop in the floor. I don’t dare look away from the monsters stalking me but vaguely recall a set of stone steps in the darkness.

“This is wrong,” I snarl.

White hair shifts as otherworldly heads cock to the side.

They said they were ghouls. I know absolutely nothing about them other than what’s shown in popular video games and movies and shit. These creatures are nothing like what society says, although that’s true for most paranormal beings.

Before my mind scurries off in a panic, I focus on their human faces and curl my hand so tight around the sconce the iron pierces my flesh.

“This is wrong,” I repeat.

I don’t know how else to express myself. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.

Agony rips through my abdomen. My vision blips to white. I can’t breathe.

When the world settles back into place, I’m surrounded by hard, masculine muscles and the most tantalizing mix of aromas fills my nostrils. Deep, rich vibrations soothe the pain from my body and melt my bones.

A pathetic whimper weaves into the beautiful melody.

“Hush, little one. We will make it right,” my overbearing, posh alpha declares.

I writhe and cling to whatever flesh I can reach, but snarl when hands close around my hips and breasts.

“No. Not here,” I growl.

They pause. A low rumble sneaks from my chest as I anticipate their refusal to wait.

“She needs a nest,” Umar murmurs against the top of my head.

Khalid purrs his agreement and skims his hands up my sides. I shiver as his talons scratch along my ribs.

I nod even though the word nest sounds stupid as fuck.

Part of me longs to howl in denial when Umar removes my nails from his arm and moves away. Every inch separating us feels like a mile. I hate it.

He glides around the room gathering the clothes strewn around the floor. Despite the gore, I welcome the coverage of Khalid’s undershirt as my alphas settle it around my shoulders. They work together, fondling and caressing me as they dress me in the oversized shirt.

Umar pulls his shorts over his hips and drops Khalid’s trousers beside his brother before scooping me out of his lap and cradling me to his chest. When he starts down the steps into the pitch-black, I jab my elbow into him and fight his arms.

“No, not this way. I hate—”

An overwhelming surge of need curls me in on myself. I long to snarl at the bitch whimpering in the presence of my alphas until I realize it’s me.

Low rumbles settle me back into the present. I suck down lungfuls of fresh air and marvel at the swiftness of my mates. An owl hoots in the distance.

My name carries on the breeze.

Gabby, Trista, and Bianca call out for me. The terror and misery in their voices fills me with shame.

“I must go to them,” I say.

Umar ignores me.

I snarl and rake my nails down his chest. His rhythm falters to a halt and he aims heated brown orbs down at me. His ghoul licks his lips with a white tongue.

“Take me to my friends. Now,” I snarl.

To my surprise, he changes direction toward the ruckus. Khalid’s disapproving rumble creates discord in our bond, but I send a glare over Umar’s shoulder at him and note his reluctant acceptance in absentminded amusement.

“Set me down,” I snarl before we reach my friends.

Umar does, but four sets of hands grip my waist before I can step forward. Fresh wetness gushes down my legs as they growl.

“If any of them touch you, they’re dead,” Khalid promises.

I swallow before nodding.

“You have two minutes,” Umar rumbles.

I take a breath to refute him, but my core contracts, so I nod again.

Their hands caress me as they slip away into the darkness.

A band tightens around my chest at their departure. Even though I asked them to bring me to my friends, every part of me aches for their nearness.

I straighten my spine and roll my shoulders back before shuffling down the hill toward my friends.

“Here. I’m here,” I respond to their calls before stepping around the tombstone several yards away from Bianca.

She screams and jumps back before recognition sparks in her eyes.

My friends’ cries warm my heart and ease the angst in my soul.

They crowd around me, exclaiming in excitement and alarm. I understand their concern. I probably look like I came straight from a horror movie.

“Don’t touch me! I’m fine,” I say as I evade their reach.

“You’re not okay. Let me call nine—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I snarl and swat Trista’s phone out of her hand.

All three fall silent and stare at me with wide, startled eyes. I belatedly realize I’ve never raised my voice to them. Slapping Bryce was the first time they’ve seen my violent side.

“Sorry, I just… I’m fine. No cops. Go back to the dorm. I’ll be there before class starts again,” I manage through the emotions clogged in my throat.

I don’t know why I feel like crying, but the tears form anyway.

“You don’t look fine. What happened?” Bianca asks.

I bite back a sob and clear my throat instead.

“Lots happened. I don’t have time to explain, but I really am okay. I need you to—”

“There you are! What the hell did you do to my dad, you fucking bitch?”

Bryce emerges from between the trees and reaches for my shoulder.

My alphas converge.

My stepbrother is fucking disgusting. I hate him. He deserves to feel the wrath of my men.

No, he deserves worse.

I grab a tendril of his black smoke and yank his soul from his body.

A transparent version of him pops free of his living flesh, leaving his eyes vacant and expression lax.

I snarl and jerk his ghostly face toward me.

Disgust curdles my stomach at his nearness, but the terror in his eyes fills me with vicious satisfaction.

“You’re done, asshole. Go to hell,” I snarl.

I take him there myself. I don’t know how or why, but with my alphas’ support and a surge of power, I open a portal and fling Bryce onto the burning ground at the feet of a giant monster with goat horns and flames for eyes.

“He’s all yours,” I say with a mock salute and a flounce back through the portal.

My alphas’ stunned silence as I rejoin them in the graveyard jangles my nerves. Bianca, Trista, and Gabby stare at me as though I grew a second head. I look behind me, but all that’s left of the portal is a spark and sizzle of air. No giant goat man followed me through.

“What?” I ask.

No one responds.

Bryce’s empty body clutches his chest and crumples to the ground. His heels tap against the lawn. He dies without another word.

“What just happened?” Gabby whispers.

“Where did they come from?” Trista asks as she stares at my alphas.

“Where did he go?” Bianca demands with a shaky finger pointed at Bryce.

I suck down a noisy breath, but pain threatens to fold me into a pretzel. Masculine arms wrap around me. Deep rumbles soothe my angst.

“The veil may be thin tonight, but it isn’t that thin. You just opened a portal to The Knottiverse and delivered a living soul to Sathanas, The Keeper of Halloween,” Khalid explains.

His dark eyes study me as though I’m a puzzle to piece together, but he’s already seen all of me. With his presence in my soul and his seed still leaking from between my legs, he and his brother are closer to me than anyone else has ever been.

“So… that wasn’t Lucifer or the devil or whoever is in charge of hell?” I ask.

“Hell has a different Keeper,” Umar grunts.

The pride and hunger in both his dark brown human eyes and eerie white with tiny black pupil ghoul eyes steal the ground out from under my feet and fills my stomach with butterflies.

“Oh. Um. Does that mean I took my stepbrother to the wrong place? I can go back and—”

“No. You will not steal a soul from Sathanas,” Khalid snarls.