Page 20 of Grotesque
“Sure thing, Sorcha.” He gave me a mock salute. “Welcome to Bristol.”
I about choked on my laugh, but with each step, some of the tension eased from my neck.
It was fine, I wasfine.
Here’s hoping there were no more guests planning to stop by tonight.
The scent of Sorcha’s fear was a rare delicacy I wanted to dine on. I’d been watching her carefully since she’d moved in, and her love for the macabre, her obvious dark streak, drew a tingle down my spine. Wooing the lady of the house hadn’t worked for me on the last four occasions, so I wouldn’t waste my time on hearts and flowers, but I knew Sorcha and I would havesuchfun together as I tested just how deep that darkness within her ran.
Anddeepit ran. The film she had chosen piqued my interest, but when I tore my eyes away from the screen to see her hands down her pants it struck a sinful chord within me. One that shot straight to my cock.
She was wicked, and wicked things deserved to be punished. I had watched her breath hitch and the slide of her fingers through her wetness. I couldn’t smell her through the glass, butmy mouth watered in anticipation. I couldn’t let her cum alone and unaware. If she wanted release, then I would be the one to give it to her.
I was disappointed she hadn’t let me fulfil her little fantasy and had barricaded herself from me instead. Not that I minded too much. It had allowed me to draw out our game a while longer. To prepare her for what was to come.
Whathadpeeved me was the sight of another male, one whose arrogance I could smell from across the yard. The man was practically preening over the fact that Sorcha needed help. I wasn’t at my full strength in the daylight, but I’d still let my power flood down the front steps, making them both come to an abrupt halt.
He was sorely mistaken if he thought he was going to have Sorcha before I had a taste of her. He wouldn’t be sampling her at all.
My blood simmered as the day dragged on, and the man didn’t leave.
Oh Sorcha, you naughty girl.As silly as I found Macky’s rules to be, they were proving to be useful in that they gave me reason to discipline Sorcha. I might have let it slide that she’d invited the man in for the day, but once night fell and he remained inside, my generosity went out the window. She thought she could break therulesof the manor and go unpunished? Not in my house.
I watched the man from the shadowed corridor as he made himself comfortable on the couch. I cocked my head, listening to Sorcha’s feet pad across the upper floor before the sound of her bed creaking filtered down to me.
I didn’t need to enter by door or window, but to prove that locks wouldn’t stop me, I turned the deadbolt of the back door with the flick of my wrist.
I slipped into the hallway adjacent to the living room where Sorcha’s guest was sprawled on the couch. His back was to me, his eyes glued to his phone.
It never ceased to amaze me how dull most humans’ senses were. The male was utterly ignorant as I slunk through the shadows, even as my shadowy silhouette loomed in the light reflecting off the TV.
It took everything in me not to grab the man by his throat, rip it out, and toss him at the foot of Sorcha’s bed. A little gift for her upon waking. She clearly hadn’t liked my first gift, perhaps she would appreciate something more sentimental.
Alas, I couldn’t do that without drawing unwanted attention to Sorcha, and thereby, myself. For as savvy as she looked, she wasn’t very bright. Now that she had called the cops, they’d likely return. Adding the mutilated body of hernew squeezeto the mix was not something that would help me win her over.
But she needed to learn her lesson.
I clenched my fists until my knuckles paled and made for her bedroom. I wouldn’t kill the man yet, but she was going to learn that I was not someone to fuck with.
Ah, there you are.
Her hair obscured her face, like she had been tossing and turning. Just the sight of her, even like this, stilled the churning waters of my rage.
A flick of its remnants darted out in time with my tongue across my lips. I couldn’t be patient when it came to her. There was no time, when need burned through my veins and demanded to be fed.
I crept to the other side of the bed, watching for any signs of her waking. Couldn’t she feel death in the room with her?
I slipped into the bed behind her, my jaw aching with hunger, claws begging to sink into her. I slid right up against her and nearly came undone.
She was so small and warm. Oh so fucking warm that I could not contain the shudder that had me pulling her closer.
I brushed the hair from her face and peered down at her. Poor Sorcha, meant to be forgotten down in Florida but found, and here in my arms because of a demon’s hunger. A hunger that knew no bounds.
The other women had been beautiful in their own right. Each crafted by the careful hands of whoever they deemed their creator to be. But none of them had made my blood sing the way Sorcha did. I’d tasted them all, gorged myself on their blood and their bodies. The bodies of their husbands and guests too. None of them made me salivate so. They had not tempted me in the way Sorcha’s soft, pouty mouth and luscious curves did.
I traced my finger over those lips that I knew hid a straight-toothed, sharp smile. Her small oval face reminded me of the porcelain doll collection Maxine had stashed away in the attic. Her eyes moved faintly behind her closed lids, her thick lashes brushing her arched cheeks.
I licked my lips, sliding my palm down her body, to the curve of her hip and swell of her thick thigh. She fit against me perfectly, like she was made for me.Plush and malleable against my strength.
