Page 9 of Devious Nightmare

“Why would we…” My words trail off, and I instantly know which officer he wants to go see and why. “You want to go find Sheriff Donavan.”

It isn’t a question. I know that’s who he wants to go see, and his face does nothing to hide the fact that I’m right. His brow quirks as the smirk forming on his full lips grows wider. It’s a devious smile, one filled with malice and evil. In this moment, he looks every part the villain that the stories I’ve been told painted him to be.

Why do I find that insanely hot? There is something wrong with me. I’m broken. I need help. I need to be institutionalized for the sinful thoughts swirling in my head.

“You’re very smart, Ripley girl.”

I freeze. Is my mind playing tricks on me, or did he just call me…

His smile grows in size and wicked intent. “You didn’t think I’d remember who you are?” All I can manage is a slight nod of my head as my breaths become more erratic. “Oh, I remember you, sweet girl. I knew the second the smoke cleared, and those blue fire eyes came into view.”

My breath catches in my throat at his admission. I’ve changed a lot in the decade since Blaze died. Even before he was killed, we hadn’t interacted often. Only a few times when my parents allowed me to go to one of my brother’s concerts.

Though, my eyes have always been my most distinguishing feature about me. They are vibrant layers of swirling blues.

His devilish smirk intensifies, and my core flutters again at the sight of it. How am I already turned on after two mind-blowing orgasms? This doesn’t make sense. What is this freaking man doing to me?

This can’t be me. Blaze must have come back from the afterlife with some kind of magical draw to him. It’s like a compulsion. That is the only thing that makes sense.

I’m not this woman. My past boyfriends have all been safe. Gamers and tech nerds. Not homicidal psychos with malicious smiles and bodies built for sin.

“We need to go.” His words cut off my internal spiral. With that, he stands and adjusts his pants, putting his thick length away. I’m almost sad to see it go. “Let’s go, Little Sire.”

“Why do I have to go with you?” The question is out of my mouth before I have time to process words I just spoke aloud. That was supposed to be an inside question.

“Sweet girl, I’ve already told you.” He leans down until I can see the wicked intent in his dark eyes. His hand slips into my hair, gripping so tightly onto the strands that tears spring to my eyes.He’s pulling me closer, so we are face to face.

I half expect him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, Blaze drags his tongue up the side of my cheek, licking up the tears streaming down my face. His responding growl at the taste is filthy, and I’m ready for him to fuck me again.

Blaze pulls away from me too quickly, releasing my hair, and leaving me aching for him. He finds his discarded shirt on the ground nearby and puts it on. When his dark eyes meet mine again, there is no residual lust remaining in his dark irises. All that’s left is pure hatred.

The hairs on my body stand on end as he stares down at me. I don’t need his next words to know what he has planned for us tonight. It’s written all over his stupidly handsome face, even through the remnants of the black and white skeleton paint he was wearing the night he died.

He laughs when he sees the fear in my eyes. “Come on, Little Sire. Let’s go kill the fucking pig.”

“Where are we going?” I huff out as I try to keep up with Blaze.

We are currently walking through the woods, behind the old Cronshaw property. It was creepy enough trying to walk by the house. I’ve heard so many stories about the house and the people who once lived in it over the years.

The stories depict them as a satanic cult and claim they would commit sacrifices in the woods behind the property. Due to the accusations made by authorities after Blaze’s death, I am piecing together why he doesn’t share my fears about being here.

“Blaze,” I hiss out as the fifth consecutive branch hits me in the face. “What are we doing out here?”

I trip over a raised root just as Blaze halts his steps, and I fall into him, barely catching myself on his arm before I go down. When I stand and go to speak, his hand clasps over my mouth.

With his other hand, he points through the break in the treeline. There I see three cars belonging to the Sheriff’s department parked in the middle of the clearing. They are surrounding a large bonfire and three men in long, black cloaks and hoods.

What the actual fun?

“Little Sire, I need you to listen to me.” He turns me to face him as he releases his hold on my mouth. “I want you to run out there crying.”

“Why?” I whisper, staring back at the men as the sound of them chanting fills the otherwise silent wooded area. They are no longer standing around the fire. Now, they are circling the giant flames with their hands held out by their sides.

The smell of the burning wood surrounds me as I take in what is happening as they begin to chant. I can’t make out the words they are saying, and that’s when I realize they aren’t speaking english.

“Da nobis donum tuum, Tenebrae,” they shout toward the sky in unison.

I whip around to face Blaze, his eyes already trained on me, intently searching my face. “Is that Latin?”

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