Page 47

Tyorin

T he woods are quiet tonight. Too quiet.

Like something’s holding its breath just out of sight.

I’m holding mine too, as I lean against a gnarled oak, watching from the shadows how Bunny stumbles into the campsite, set just off the trail.

Her naked body is painted in streaks of crimson that glisten under the moon, bleeding silver light through the bare branches.

She’s perfect like this.

Her chest heaves, her breath coming in ragged sobs, her fingers trembling as she clutches at her arms, like she’s trying to hold herself together.

The blood isn’t hers—not most of it, anyway.

A few scratches, a bite mark on her shoulder where she’d let my brothers and me play a little too rough earlier. But the rest? The rest is art.

A group of hikers freezes when they see her. Three of them, all men, their faces twisting in shock, then concern, then fear.

Good . They should be afraid.

“P-please,” Bunny whimpers, her voice breaking just right, tears cutting clean tracks through the blood on her cheeks. “Help me—Please—Oh God!” She gasps, staggers, falls to her knees.

The tallest guy in the group rushes forward, reaching for her first. “Jesus, are you okay? What happened?”

Bunny shakes her head violently, her long hair sticking to her skin in damp, tangled clumps—the pink has almost faded by now, revealing bleached blonde.

“They’re coming—” She cuts herself off with a choked sob. “Please, just get me out of here!”

The bearded guy steps closer, his hand hovering like he’s not sure if he should touch her.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, voice tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

I bite back a laugh.

“The Hollows…” she whispers with tears spilling down her cheeks.

I lick my lips, my cock throbbing in my palm. God, she’s fucking amazing.

The tall guy tries to comfort her, patting her back awkwardly, his eyes flickering over her naked body—I know he loves what he sees.

The bearded man can’t stop staring at the way her tits rise and fall with each shuddering breath, the way the blood clings to her thighs.

The last one keeps a distance, his pulse spiking, his pants tented.

They don’t even realize they’re already dead.

Just like that, she stops.

The tears dry up. The shaking stills. And her lips curl into a slow, wicked smile as she announces, “I’m bored with this.”

Then she lunges.

Her hand snaps out, fingers curling into claws, burying into the closest hiker’s throat before he can even scream. Blood sprays as Bunny rips his flesh open with her teeth, her mouth sealing over the wound, drinking deep.

The other two barely have time to react before she’s on the bearded man.

He howls, stumbling back as she rides him down to the ground, her thighs bracketing his hips.

She tears into him. Rips flesh from bone, her mouth working hungrily, fingers clawing into his shoulders.

The man gurgles, his hands flailing, his legs kicking uselessly.

I step forward, wearing Ghost’s skin—because it’s always more fun, more haunting when Bunny and I play this game. Only humans hunt for sport.

My cock aches as I watch Bunny work. She’s glorious like this, her body slick with gore, her mouth dripping scarlet as she chews through muscle.

She lifts her head, now crowned by antlers, meeting my gaze. Her eyes are glowing red, burning into mine with insatiable hunger.

“Put on a show for them,” she purrs, pouting.

I don’t need to be told twice.

“Look at her,” I growl. “Look at how fucking perfect she is. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

Bunny laughs, massaging the mess on her chest with her palms, smearing it over her jutting tits. She spreads her thighs wider, showing off her pretty pink pussy, already wet and glistening.

“Play with yourself, baby,” I command, but it comes out as a plea.

She rubs her clit in fast circles, her ass grinding against the dying man beneath her.

“Tell them how good you taste.” I pump my fist up and down my shaft.

Her fingers sink into her cunt. She thrusts once, twice, collecting her juices before retracting and bringing them to her mouth.

“Mmm, so sweet,” she murmurs, licking her fingers clean.

The remaining hiker—the young guy—is frozen, his breath ragged, his cock straining against his zipper. Pathetic .

But Bunny loves an audience.

She reaches for him, crooking a bloody finger. “Come here, boy. Let me see if you’re worth keeping.”

He stumbles forward, hypnotized.

Bunny smirks, then bites—sinking her teeth into the man’s wrist. He screams, but she doesn’t stop, her hips rolling, her breath coming in sharp, delighted gasps as she feeds.

I can’t take it anymore.

I shove him aside and claim Bunny’s mouth, kissing her deep, tasting blood and lust and her.

She growls into me, her nails raking down my chest, her legs wrapping around my waist. I slam into her, pinning her down onto the hiker’s chest. Her teeth sink into my forearm, and I hiss, but the pain is sweet, electric.

I fuck her harder, whispering filth into her ear, praising her, worshiping her, telling her how fucking magnificent she is.

The woods aren’t quiet anymore.

They echo with screams.

With moans.

With the wet, tearing sounds of flesh giving way.

The hikers don’t last long. But we make sure they watch.

By the time we’re done, the clearing is painted red.

Bunny collapses in my arms, panting, her body trembling with satisfaction. I cradle her close, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. She cranes her neck to look at me, her lips swollen and smeared with deep red, eyes half-lidded with unquenchable thirst.

She’s remarkable.

She’s more than I ever hoped for.

She takes what she wants, how she wants it—no shame, no remorse, no hiding her desires.

She's always been a man-eater.

And now, she’s finally set free.

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— Riley C. Smith