Page 22 of Pounded in the Patch
I hang back, letting her approach the entrance alone, watching as she comes to a complete stop at the threshold.
Perfect.
Absolutely fucking perfect.
She's right where I want her.
Exactly where she's always belonged.
Now all that's left is to show her what forever looks like.
CHAPTER 7
HALLOWEEN QUEEN
Seraphina
I'm standing at the entrance to what looks like it was torn straight from a dark fairy tale, and I can't breathe.
The archway before me is made of intertwined pumpkin vines and deep purple flowers, lit from within by dozens of flickering candles that cast dancing shadows through the fog. Beyond it, I can see what looks like a stage—an elevated platform surrounded by the most elaborate jack-o'-lanterns I've seen yet, each one carved with intricate designs that seem to move in the candlelight.
What is this?
My legs are shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline, my body still sensitive from the way he fucked me against those pumpkins. I know I should be running, trying to escape into the forest, to find help, to get as far away from this beautiful madman as possible…
But I can't move. I'm frozen at this threshold, staring at whatever elaborate scene he's constructed at the heart of his plan.
He did all of this…for me?
The thought makes my head spin. The magnitude of what I'm looking at—the stage, the candles, the perfectly positioned jack-o'-lanterns—this is months of work. Maybe longer.
But why?
My feet are already carrying me forward, through the archway and toward the stage. I can't help myself. I need to see what's up there, to understand why he’s doing all of this.
Stone steps lead up to the platform, carved from dark granite and lined with more flickering candles. I climb them slowly, my bare feet silent on the smooth stone, and as I reach the top, my breath catches in my throat.
Oh my God.
The stage is draped in black silk that pools and flows like water in the candlelight. Black rose petals are scattered across every surface, and in the center sits a bed—an actual fucking bed with a plush mattress covered in more black silk and pillows.
This is easily the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Gothic and romantic and terrifying all at once.
I walk further onto the stage, my fingers trailing over the silk draping. It's real silk, expensive and smooth against my skin. Everything here looks expensive.
That's when I see it.
On a pedestal near the bed, sitting on a cushion of black velvet, is a crown. Not some cheap costume jewelry, but a real crown made of obsidian and gold, with intricate metalwork that catches the candlelight and throws it back in mesmerizing patterns.
Acrown.
He built me a throne room and put a crown in it.
What kind of game is this?
My hand is reaching for it before I can stop myself, fingers hovering just inches from the gold. It's beautiful. It dripspower.
"It suits you."
