Page 40 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)

Chapter Thirty-two

Mallory

One month later.

T he moist dew seeps into my pants as my knees sink further into the supple earth.

The fog is thick, wet. It hangs around us like a curtain, obstructing us from anyone’s lingering gaze, coating our skin in a thin sheen of moisture.

Nox’s groan of pleasure reverberates out around us as I suck his cock slow and sensually.

I missed him so fucking much while gone, I can’t contain the desire I have for him now.

It’s this unquenchable thirst to feel every moment with him to the utmost extent.

His cock hits the back of my throat as he weaves his fingers into my hair, fisting tight and taking control, chasing his release. Another moan slips from his lips as his hips lose their once steady rhythm. I love watching him come undone for me, because of me.

His sounds of pleasure morph into gurgling maniacal laughter, jarring me from the lusty cloud I’m floating on. Raising my eyes, Officer Johnson stares down at me, blood bubbling from between his lips. Fear squeezes the air from my lungs as his dick cuts off the air to my lungs.

“Breathe through your nose, darlin’,” he snarls, finding his release.

His rancid cum spurts into my mouth, and I can’t believe I’m still trapped here with him.

I got away. I killed him. Crimson drool leaks from the sides of his mouth as he looks down at me, the gaping hole beneath his chin leaking blood down his neck and chest, staining his shirt.

“I told you we weren’t so different, don’t you see it yet?

” he taunts, evaporating before my very eyes.

In his place, Nox reappears, panting heavily and gazing down upon me with nothing but adoration.

His orgasmic haze clears and he tucks himself back into his pants.

Concern creases his brow when he looks at me again, as if he can see the panic tightly coiling through me.

He undoubtedly can. I’m trying my best to suppress the anxiety attack clawing at my chest and the shakes coming over me.

Dropping to his knees, he embraces me. The heat from his body sinking into mine, chasing away the cold chill of death left by my memories.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks cautiously.

“No,” I whisper. He didn’t do anything wrong. How could he? Nox waits on me hand and foot, fearful that any second I could shatter into a million tiny pieces. He’s been putting me first, all while juggling the new captain’s position, and mourning the loss of his uncle.

“Let’s go home,” he mutters against my skin and I nod.

Standing, he extends his hand and I slip mine into it.

Nox pulls me to him, crashing us together, lips meeting violently.

Passion reignites within me at the eagerness in his touch, the proximity of his body to mine, and the growl that comes from deep inside him as I bite his lip, dragging it between my teeth.

My nipples ache for attention as his grip on me becomes crushing, holding my body against his as if I’ll disappear again at any moment. I’m not going anywhere.

My thighs rub together, seeking anything to quell the rapid thumping of my clit. “Touch me,” I breathe against his mouth. “Please.” Make me forget.

He pulls away from me, shaking his head, then turns towards the truck.

The memories of what we used to be haunt me endlessly.

His actions send my negative thoughts careening off the precipice my self-esteem resides on, they grab ahold of it tightly, sending it crashing into the jagged rocks below.

My mind’s a pile of worthless trash as I follow behind him, a discarded cum rag that’s served its purpose.

He rounds the front of the vehicle, opening the door and sliding into the driver’s seat, sitting still as a statue, waiting for me to follow.

Mirroring his movements, I climb up into the passenger seat and click the seat belt around me.

Lennox turns the key in the ignition and his Dodge Ram roars to life.

The vibrations rumble a soothing sensation through my tense muscles, calming the racing of my thoughts.

Being denied is a kick to the gut of the progress I thought we were making. He’s never going to want me again. Ruined. Dirty. Disgusting. My parents’ words echo through my head, and I dread the moment I’ll hear the same fall from Nox’s mouth .

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Knuckles meet the glass of the driver’s side window, and Nox rolls it down without hesitation.

“This is a no trespassing area, sir.” The voice, raspy and familiar, shoots adrenaline through my body, winding me tighter and tighter until I’m liable to snap.

My frazzled and fractured mind can’t take anymore.

I slowly turn towards the voice, praying this is once again all in my head.

Officer Johnson steps into view, looking as he did the day he pulled me over; clean-cut, freshly shaven, police uniform starched and pressed with the cap upon his head.

I suck in a gasp, my answering scream getting caught in my throat.

I’m frozen with fear, rendered completely immobile by this sick fuck’s presence.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises immediately.

” His gaze locks with mine over Nox’s head, and he winks.

No. No. No. This isn’t real. It’s another hallucination.

I’m breathing too fast but I can’t get any fucking air.

My head swims, and I’m pretty sure this is what hyperventilating is.

Will I pass out from lack of oxygen? Why isn’t there a paper bag handy when you need it?

I reach for Lennox but he brushes me off. “No problem, we were just leaving.” he replies. Ted mumbles something imperceptible to Nox who nods in return. Facing the front, he lifts his hand to the shifter, and I see Johnson raise his pistol from outside the vehicle.

Bang!

Wetness splatters across my face and chest as Nox’s body collapses into me. I can’t even scream. What the hell is happening ?

Watching Ted, he rounds the front of the truck making his way to me. I struggle to un-click the seat belt trapped beneath my boyfriend’s dead weight but it’s no use, Johnson rips open my door. “There ya are darlin’, I thought I lost ya.”

“No!” I shriek, the piercing sound amplified by the small cab of the truck. He leans over me, gun in hand, and shoves Lennox’s lifeless body off me. I’m trapped, again . Johnson brushes the gore from my face, locking his blue eyes with mine.

“Miss me?” he jests, sinking his fingers into my hair and wrapping them around the strands.

“I killed you,” I growl.

“I’m a part of you. You’ll have to kill yourself to truly be rid of me.”

“Not a fucking problem,” I snarl. Without second guessing my actions, I snap my hand out and grab ahold of his fist that carries the revolver.

Unaccompanied by hesitation, I press the barrel below my chin.

He lets me, eyes widening with desire when he realizes he’ll win this battle of mental fortitude.

I place my hand over his, and pull the fucking trigger.

Bang!

Like a bullet leaving a gun, I shoot up in bed.

Guts heaving, I make a mad dash for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

Retching and gagging, I drop to my knees.

The fuzzy bath mat offering little cushion for my landing as pain shoots through my legs.

Leaning against the cold porcelain of the toilet, I lose my dinner.

How many more nights of this do I have to suffer through? I’m free. I survived .

I’ll never be free again, I’m caged in the memories of my tormentor.

Tears burn my eyes as I try to compose myself.

No more fucking crying, Mallory. Get your shit together, a voice growls in my subconscious.

Knock. Knock.

“Baby, are you okay?” Guilt eats me alive as I wake him in the middle of the night again. I wonder if he’d be better off without me…undoubtedly he would be. I’m a waste of space, traumatized piece of shit.

I killed someone who didn’t deserve it.

You also killed someone who did deserve it.

This incessant voice in my head is going to send me to a fucking padded room, I swear. It drives me closer and closer to giving into that urge that squirms uncomfortably beneath my skin every day.

I can’t, it’s wrong.

But it feels so good, it coos.

I’m splitting apart at the seams.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Mallory?”

“Yeah, Ghost?”

I hear his sharp intake of breath. It brings a wicked smirk to my face.

I know what that nickname does to him, and maybe it’s sick of me to manipulate him like this, but I don’t want to be coddled.

I’ve been back for just over a month now, and he hasn’t touched me at all.

Maybe I can get his hands on me instead of dreaming about it this time.

He doesn’t want to push me into anything, I get it.

I don’t want to rush him either. Grief eats at everyone differently, and I can’t put a time limit on when Nox will feel right again.

Not only has my fucked-up ass stumbled back here in barely one piece, he’s running the precinct now.

Planning a funeral and saying goodbye to his last family member has taken a toll on him—I can see it, feel it.

We may not be as ‘in-tune’ with each other as before, but I can see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I just wanted to know if you needed anything?”

You. I need you.

“No, I’m okay. Thanks, be out in a minute,” I reply. Closing the toilet lid, and flushing away the last remnants of my nightmare-induced panic attack, I stand and turn towards the mirror. My hair is a tangled mess, eyes sunken with dark bags under them.

I wouldn’t want to fuck me either.

I quickly work my tresses up into a messy bun, pulling a few tendrils free to shape my face. Then I brush my teeth and splash some cold water onto my pale skin, rubbing the colour back into my cheeks. I look like a ghost of who I used to be, frail and broken in a whole new way.

Taking in a deep breath, I calm the wild beating of my heart.

Turning, I open the door, and there Nox stands.

Slowly, I eat him up with my gaze, knowing he loves witnessing how the mere sight of him throws gasoline on the fire I have burning for him.

Starting at his feet, I trail my eyes up his body.

The strong toned legs that support me with ease as he fucks me against a wall.

His pierced cock, thick and heavy beneath his boxer-briefs.

The tight fabric hugs his body, leaving every delicious pulse of his growing erection easily visible.

His abs flex as I behold what a fine masterpiece he truly is.

Muscular arms and shoulders, powerful and dripping with blood.

Umm… What?

My gaze snaps to his face, mangled and blown apart.

Gasping, shock and terror seize me completely.

Smothering the scream that wants to erupt, and forcing the tears back into their ducts, I watch the entrance wound on the left side of his face stream a steady path of blood and brain matter down his cheek.

It drips off his chin, painting the top of his shoulder with splatter marks that run off in multiple directions.

This isn’t real. Lennox is alive.

The poor attempt at rationalizing what I see doesn’t make it any less terrifying. I’ve been through hell. But this? This is my worst fucking fear come to life.

“What’s wrong, little siren? You look like you’ve seen a Ghost.” His deep baritone is filled with lust as he chuckles at his own joke.

The slight shaking of his shoulders makes the flaps of flesh hanging from his right cheek slap against the intact skin of his face.

I’m sure I’m going to either faint or vomit.

Maybe both. If I’m lucky I’ll choke on it, and this horrible nightmare will be over.

He advances on me, stepping into the brightly lit bathroom.

The exposed bone of his skull is easily visible, and beneath it, the inner workings of his orbital cavity.

I step back, he growls. The sound doing wicked things to the area between my legs.

Another step back has my back up against the sink, I’m trapped, again.

“Oh, baby. You know how I love to chase you. Go,” he says, stepping to the side and clearing my way out of the claustrophobic area. I bolt, not giving him a chance to regret his decision.

My feet slap against the hardwood, carrying me out of the ensuite, and through the doorway to my bedroom. His hearty laugh echoes behind me as I run down the hallway, making a sharp left to the entrance way.

Risking a look behind me, I see Nox gaining on me through the shadows. Swinging open the door, I take off in a full sprint only to clash with another body. It grabs me roughly around my biceps, the cheap plastic Ghostface mask rubbing against my face. “Caught ya, darlin’.”

This time the scream doesn’t get caught in my throat, it echoes around my bedroom as I thrash against the mattress.

I’m trapped, tangled in blankets and terrifying memories.

Momentarily unable to discern if this is another nightmare or reality.

I can’t breathe, can’t get free. “FUCK!” I scream in frustration.

Twisting and pushing at the blankets that have constricted around me.

Finally unwound enough, I leap off the bed.

I can’t get out of this room fast enough—I need water, I need fresh air.

In the darkness, I storm through the door to my room only to collide with another body.

It braces me, firmly without injury. “No!” I scream.

“Get off me!” Flailing and scratching, I push the stranger away.

“Shhh. Mallory. Breathe. Baby, it’s me.” the figure says. The light switch flicks, bathing the room in light. Gentle hands brush the hair away from my sweat-caked skin. I can see him now, face intact and eyes brimmed with worry.

Lennox.