Page 24 of His to Fear
“There’s a barn over there,” he points toward the left, where a red building is poking out from behind the trees. My god, this fair is huge.
“No one will be coming there soon,” he whispers. “They’re on the other side of the fair.”
And he would know, considering he’s a scare-actor here.
I swallow, desire coursing through me that I want to ignore. He should make me feel unsafe, and he does, but for some reason, he also makes me feel alive.
In his presence, I’m no longer the scared Nadia, afraid of the world and everyone around her. No longer the person who couldn’t feel anything other than rage, regret, and sadness. With him, and in one night—which is fucking absurd—I feel more carefree than ever.
It’s utterly shameful and taboo, but it’s the truth.
“You don’t want to be caught by me,” he smirks, showing white teeth. Then he drops the mask, letting it cover his face once more. “Run along now, little fangs. If I catch you, I’ll fuck you raw, relishing in your beautiful screams.” He grunts, his hand stroking my cheek tenderly. “I’ll feast on your fear and let it gush from you like the blood of a warm corpse.”
The next second, he steps away, and I’m free to flee. Every instinct inside me tells me to run for the exit, but his dark promise has something inside me snapping, and instead of listening to the rational part of me, I ignore it. I’ll have time to think about what the fuck is wrong with me later.
Put it on my therapy bill.
A desire lingers deep within me. A spark of something filling me back with life after two years of feeling dead on the inside.
I run to the barn.
Chapter 8
The Stranger
My hands are slickwith blood, but tonight, it’ll stain her instead. She’s fucking exquisite in red, blood specifically. The image alone sends me reeling. There’s only one twisted game left before I’ll reveal everything, and I know she’ll stay.
Perhaps not now, or in the coming week. But she will, eventually. She was made for me.
The anticipation gnaws at me, a fire licking inside my chest. Her soul calls to mine. The wickedness inside it. Her underlying trauma that I can feel as if it’s my own, ripping through my insides like chains dragging me under the weight of the sea.
Oh, yes. She will be mine.
The barn door splinters open as she throws her shoulder against it. I wait a few minutes, giving her just enough distance to get away from me. What fun would it be if I didn’t instill the hope that she can get away?
When I deem it long enough, I begin my hunt. Axe in hand—not my own that I trust to fell trees, but this will do for tonight—I stalk toward the empty barn. Silence fills the atmosphere with a hum that’s almost deafening. It’s dark in here, the only illumination coming from the torches placed haphazardly around.
It was fairly easy to navigate around here when I left the tractor in here. I’d heard the farmer tell his colleague that this is where he would pick up the tractor for the hayride.
Calm settles in my bones as I take a sharp breath, feeling the thrill of the hunt settling in. I’m in my element.
After all I’ve been through, having control over any situation is my only way of doing it. And my little death angel seems to love giving up control, even when she won’t acknowledge it.
Wooden pillars support the structure of the old building in the middle of the huge space, so spacious it’s a wonder they haven’t made more use of this for the fair, other than being a storage space.
It’d have been perfect for another haunted house.
Looking around the barn, I can’t immediately see her, but I know she hasn’t left the barn. I can feel her presence, as if she were standing right beside me.
This game is called tag, but I’m not chasing her. More like huntingforher.
Grabbing the cracked porcelain mask I found lying around in the fair, I put it on my face for added effect. I know she finds it terrifying, but her fear is oh-so-sweet.
Pursing my lips, I stalk forward, humming on a Halloween-themed lullaby. The tune drifts through the dark, and in my mind, I can see her before me. Plump lips opening into a gasp, eyes wide and glistening with fear and arousal.
“Come out, come out. Wherever you are, little fangs,” I croon, pausing in the middle of the barn as I listen for any sound of her.
Adrenaline thrums through my veins, sharper than any drug, recognizing how alive this makes me feel. My obsession with her can’t be explained. I know I’m not fucking stable, but who cares?
