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TWELVE

DORIAN

She was following me.

I caught her in the stolen glances, reflections flickering across dusty portrait glass as I slipped down the hallway.

With every step she took, her body pulled toward me, craving something she didn’t yet understand.

I would give her exactly what she wanted.

And when I was done with her, she would crave only one thing: to leave this world the same way I had wanted to.

Death would be our only escape.

We moved down the stairs, our footsteps muffled by the dusty air. The basement loomed ahead, the hallway stretching into shadow. Whispers greeted me the moment I opened the door, desperate voices curling like smoke around my ears.

They were calling me again.

Another sacrifice.

But not this time.

This time, I wasn’t delivering her to them, I was delivering them to her. Their salvation, their so-called chosen one, was my curse. And that curse was going to burn them all down.

She followed, hesitant, fingertips brushing along the stone walls.

Each step chilled her more than the last. As we moved deeper, the basement revealed itself in two parts.

To the left stood the altar, Ezekiel’s portrait still hanging above it, red roses wilting beneath his watchful gaze.

Robes still clung to rusted hooks, stiff with dried blood and time.

To the right: the table. Chains. A salt-stained wall, where they had pressed bodies for years.

He promised me he wouldn’t touch Lenore… if I brought him others.

So I did.

I killed for her. Whispered his prayers while carving into flesh, breathing life into this cursed house. I made it alive. But something in me died, and nothing, not even her, can bring it back.

She paused in the center of the room. Her eyes locked onto the chains… where her father hung. Where my mother twitched in silence, still trying to escape. Her ex-boyfriend—he was nearly ready. I just had to wait for the blood to drain so I could place him in the wall with the others.

They reek less when they’re drained.

I’m sick. Sick, sick, sick. And even sicker without her. The voices, they never stop. They wrap around my mind, whispering violence, feeding my hunger to kill. To slash throats. To end it all.

But not her.

The voices like her.

We like her.

Nagi was already curled on the table, coiled like a secret. More snakes waited in the box beneath the altar, each one chosen, collected over the years. I always knew I’d need them.

She stood at the edge of the room, her gaze drifting across the horror. Her eyes welled. “What… what did you do?”

I laughed. “I did it for you.”

“No.” She shook her head, eyes wide. “Why would you do this?” Her voice cracked. “You psycho!”

She spun, palms pressed to her mouth, trying to slip past me.

But I caught her.

Her fists pounded my back as I slung her over my shoulder.

“Let me go!”

I sat her at the table beside my pet snake. Grabbed a rope from the floor and tied her wrists tight, the knot biting deep into her skin.

“There,” I growled. “Try to run and you’ll hang like the rest.”

“Are they…” her voice trembled, lips quivering, “are they alive?”

“Yup.” I strolled over to my mother, and gave her body a shove so it swung gently. She whimpered.

Bitch lost her tongue. Talked too much.

“You’re sick,” Lenore shrieked. “Crazy, Dorian!”

I laughed again. The sound echoed. Circling the room, I dropped to my knees in front of the altar, pressing my palms together, lips twitching with a broken sort of devotion. From beneath it, I pulled the black book. Returned to her. Dropped it on the table with a dull thud.

“Your father had a dream,” I said, grinning. “A sick dream.”

I exhaled slowly.

“He thought if he killed his virgin daughter and drank her blood, he’d live forever. And the rest of them, his little cult of believers, they thought the same. Sacrificing their daughters one by one. Sons were curses. But daughters?” I laughed bitterly. “Blessings in disguise.”

“They wanted to kill you, Lenore,” I hissed. “They wanted to end you.”

I turned, voice rising.

“And I stopped them. All of them.”

She stared at me, barely breathing. “What do you mean… all ?”

“Look around you,” I shouted. “Behind these walls, rotting in the dark—eighty-four cult members. Murderers. Cannibals. Monsters.”

I lowered my voice to a whisper, eyes gleaming.

“Bad people, little stepsister.”

A chuckle escaped me, soft and sharp. “All I did was kill, kill, kill,” I said, tilting my head like a child remembering a song. “All I did was chop, chop, chop.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but I kept going.

“But you ... you killed me .”

I swallowed hard, staring at her. “And your little boyfriend? He wanted to hurt you. Take you from me.”

I laughed, bitter and guttural. “So he had to go. He had to go. His dick too.”

I pointed to the wall where a small frame hung. Inside, was his tiny cock I severed a couple of hours ago.

She gasped.

“Tiny, isn’t it?”

Her face drained of color.

“Are you scared?” I stepped in closer. “Are you scared of me ?”

I circled the table slowly. Nagi slithered up her arm, tongue flicking, hissing, winding her way to Lenore’s neck like a living necklace.

Her whole body shook.

“I saved you,” I whispered, stopping in front of her. “Can you save me?”

She didn’t answer. Just trembled.

My fingers brushed her chin.

“Can you, Trouble ?”

She nodded, slow and broken.

“You see,” I smiled, gentle now, “we’re the same, you and I.”

I leaned in, voice soft.

“We’re both thorns. Just like roses.”

A chuckle.

“Thorns bite. Hurt. But we come with beauty, too—you with that pretty face...” I touched her cheek. “And me?” I laughed quietly. “A beautiful mind. Sometimes.”

She stayed silent as I leaned in, and still, she didn’t resist when I pressed my lips to hers. Her trembling faded as her body arched toward mine. My tongue slipped past her lips, twisting, tasting her. Nagi hissed, coiled now around my neck.

My hand slid behind her back, pulling her tight against me. Her legs parted, and I stepped between them, the world around us fading.

Somewhere in the basement, my mother and stepfather began to stir.

Muffled groans.

I didn’t care.

I’d slit their throats eventually.

“I can’t,” Lenore whispered. “Not when... they’re watching.”

I pulled back, studying her. Then I walked to the corner, opened the closet, and grabbed three white sheets. I twisted them tight in my fists, walked back, and unfurled each one, draping them gently over the heads of the hanging corpses.

Blood seeped through, blooming like poppies.

“There,” I said with a shrug. “Better?”

She didn’t answer. Just turned away, tears still wet on her cheeks.

I came up behind her, gently licked one from her cheek with the tip of my tongue. Sweet and salty. The snake around my neck shifted—tightening.

I slipped her from my shoulders, placing her back around Lenore’s neck. As Nagi coiled tighter, wrapping her body slowly around Lenore’s throat, she gasped.

“Beg,” I whispered.

“Beg for air.”

I grinned.

“Beg for me .”

“Please,” she whispered, voice trembling like a secret begging to be kept.

“Tell me what you want,” I said, my breath close enough to stir the hair at her temple.

“You,” she answered — no hesitation, just the sharp truth I craved.

I crushed my mouth against hers again, lifting her into my arms like she weighed nothing, her body melting into mine. I carried her to the nearby hook, fastening the rope above her head. Her body hung exposed, and utterly mine.

With one sharp tug, I tore her white top open, the fabric giving way like it had been waiting for permission. Her breasts spilled free; round, full, begging for the heat of my mouth. I hooked my fingers around the band of her thong and dragged it down, letting it fall to the floor in silence.

Nagi, slithered across her shoulders, hissing low as it coiled down her spine. It loosened, then tightened again at her throat, snake, just like me, knew how to wait. How to strike.

I cupped her breast in my palm, kneading it slowly before teasing her nipple between my lips, biting, just enough to make her gasp, just enough to raise goosebumps along her skin.

My cock was already aching, straining against my pants. I wanted her — the weight of her, the tightness, the way she’d open for me like no one else. I circled her like a predator, dragging a finger across the curve of her hip, letting the anticipation stretch until it snapped.

She met my gaze — wide-eyed, hungry, ready.

I unbuttoned my pants, letting them fall, the belt clinking as it hit the floor. Then I stepped forward, lifting one of her legs onto my shoulder.

But not yet. Not until I tasted her.

I kissed the inside of her thigh, then moved in — lips brushing against her lower lips, tongue gliding over the slick heat of her. She was already wet, her body honest in a way her mouth hadn’t yet learned to be.

I teased her clit with the tip of my tongue, then circled it, building her up, dragging the tension higher and higher. Her moans turned to whimpers, her hips pressing against my face, begging without words.

I slid two fingers inside her, curling them until I found that place that made her shudder. Her inner flesh clenched, tight, pulsing around me.

“Yes,” she cried. “God, yes.”

And still, the world around us didn’t matter. The ruin, the chaos, the half-alive shadows watching from the dark, none of it existed at this moment. Just her. Just me.

As her pleasure built, I withdrew my fingers, slick with her. I rose to my feet and pressed my fingers against her lips. She took them eagerly, sucking them clean while staring into my eyes like she could devour me whole.

I kissed her, tasting her on both our tongues.

Then I spun her gently, stepping behind her. Her back arched, legs trembling slightly from the pleasure still echoing through her.

The snake hissed again, tightening once more around her neck. She gasped, not in panic, in pleasure.

“Harder,” she whispered.

I smacked her ass once, the sound echoing off the walls, the chain clinking against the metal above. Her body jolted, then melted into it. I grabbed her hips, pulled her close, and thrust inside her in one long, deep stroke.

She cried out, voice raw, high, perfect.

I wasn’t gentle.

I didn’t need to be.

And she didn’t want me to be.