Page 31 of Haunt

The body is dragged out from under me, my own, exhausted, dropping forward onto my palms. I spit out the bone, hear it skitter across the stone floor, my chest heaving, eyes pinched as I try to catch my breath.

There is a momentary silence, respect, then the sound of fabric on skin is echoing through my head, the men in the room pushing their hoods back from their faces.

The cranking of the cogs starts next, the chains clinking as they begin to loosen, lowering my Little Lamb into the baptism pool below her. I lift to my haunches, push to my feet, watch her pale, still body be lowered into the water.

Incense fills my nostrils, trying to overpower the metallic scented air. But the taste of it on my tongue, in my nose, in my teeth, is too strong to ignore. Yet, despite the struggle, I manage to keep it from showing on my face.

I am a beautiful liar.

And I will always do everything I have to, to protect my girl.

Slowly, I am lowered down, toes dipping into the lukewarm water first, the clear liquid slowly edging up my thighs, reaching my navel, my sternum. My feet touch down and my body sways, sagging a little into the water, my arms still pulled high above my head. Shoulders burning, muscles aching, my joints feel stretched to their limit, and my wrists burn from the cold metal coiling around them.

A man approaches from my right, his cold hands coming to my own makes me flinch, but I can’t look at him as he releases my wrists. My arms flopping heavily down by my sides. Cut in my inner thigh burning. Small square mosaic tiles smooth beneath my toes, I float in the pool, letting the water cradle my weight. I can’t lift my eyes from Billy’s.

He stares back at me, blood drenched face, only fifteen or so feet away, but it feels like miles, he’s too far. Whatever the fuck is happening here, I don’t care, I don’t care about any of it. I just want him. There is an itch beneath my skin, a clawing in my gut, a lightness to my head that I know is from the drug I sucked from his tongue.

But despite knowing nothing, a million things I think I’m too frightened to even question in the safety of my own cranium, I still want him.

This.

Whatever it means.

I want him more than breath for my lungs, blood for my heart.

Two fraying pieces of the same soul.

And I would tear it all out for him.

Heart, lungs, insides to my outsides, just for him.

I want Billy Blackwell more than I have ever wanted anything.

Especially here, now, after everything I have witnessed, I just want him near. His blood slicked hands on me, red smeared face in the crook of my neck. The bruises throb along my throat the longer I stare at him. My chest heaves uncontrollably, heart thundering a storm inside my chest.

It is a need.

My achy arms reach for him, I couldn’t stop myself if I tried, and with zero hesitation, his light eyes never having left mine, he starts towards me. More chanting, feet stomping. And I know what’s about to happen here as he kicks off his boots, shoves his boxers and jeans down. His long, thick cock bobbing free as his remaining clothes drop down his thick thighs, muscular calves.

He doesn’t look at anyone else as he makes his way to me, his warm brown skin glowing in the flickering orange candlelight, shadows falling across him. I drag my gaze over him as he approaches. Shoulders wide, arm muscles thick. Tattoos in dark ink and shading trail their way down, wrapping around his left side, swirling all the way down the top of his thigh. His abs roll with each breath he takes, the thick lines of his Adonis belt carving their way between his hips.

Billy takes the steps down into the circular pool. The water lapping over him as he steps deeper and deeper. The water stops at the middle of his belly, his arms coming up to curl around my biceps. His grey-blue eyes bore into mine, his bloody face dipping to meet my own, his lips ghost across the top of my cheekbone.

I release a shaky exhale. Suck a trembling breath in.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers into my skin, low enough that no one else can hear. “Trust me.”

I gift him a subtle nod, my hair falling around my bare shoulders, covering my breasts. I feel the eyes of the hundred or so men in the room boring into me, but hidden once again beneath their dark hoods, I can pretend they aren’t looking, can’t see.

Pretend it’s just Billy and I.

My hands glide through the water, bumping against his pelvis. Head tipped back, I stroke my fingers across the firm planes of muscle in his lower belly, feel them rippling beneath the skin. And then the tip of my middle finger finds his hard length, tracing teasingly along the underside of his cock. My other hand smoothing over his thigh, nails clawing gently down his skin. He shivers, rippling the water, his hands massaging my shoulders, his eyes intense. His cock bobs, my finger sliding up and over his slit, wet with precum, even beneath the water, I can feel it.

“Penelope,” he whispers desperately, and I know this isn’t the time for exploration.

I swallow, bringing my hands away from him, submerged beneath the water, I stare up at him, wait for instruction.

Submissive.

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