Page 70 of Marked By Feral Monsters
I stand outside and look up at the great big Victorian. When I thought of my mysterious aunt before I'd moved here, I'd assumed her reputation had to do with some sexual deviance, or maybe she poisoned the neighbors' dogs who barked too much.
I'd never expected this.
She's horrible, and I'm glad she's dead.
A cool breeze rushes in from the sea; the salty air grounds the swirling rage in my gut. The waves crash rhythmically in the distance, making the promise on my lips, in my heart, feel even more resolute.
"I'm on your side, Eric," I whisper to no one. "I've got you." I need to protect him from the darkness Greta brought into this house. I will never let anything harm him again; not if I can help it.
When I get back inside, I expect the house to feel different. It's dark and quiet as always, and Greta's trophies are all officially gone. I walk through each room. There used to be more ghosts haunting Greta's Victorian, but, according to Eric, they either passed to the other side, wherever that may be, or are hiding in some in-between world, afraid to return to the site of their gruesome death.
I wander the halls, but it's useless. I'm all alone. And things feel heavy as always. This house has its claws in me.
I hope Eric feels better. I've never felt worse.
Dina
"Are you sure about this?" I ask for the third time.
"Oh, yeah, babe, I'm definitely fuckin' sure," Angel mutters. His face is buried between my tits, giving new meaning to the word motorboat.
But I'm not talking to him.
Though it's not the first time I've brought someone home, and Eric seemed totally normal—encouraging, even—when I left a few hours ago, he's been on edge since I got back.
I can't leave Eric. But I can't really be with him, either, so we came to this compromise: I could find lovers, real ones, human ones,warmones, when I felt really lonely—when I just needed to touch someone, to talk to another person.
Eric always joins in. But tonight, he doesn't engage with me and Angel at all.
The guy has a surfer vibe to him. He's gorgeous and carefree. He has long, sun-streaked hair and is chill in a way I've never been. But I like that about him. I lean into him, reveling in his human warmth. I'm turned on, and I desperately need a release.
I don't know why I've been so stressed out lately. Every day looks the same; there's nothing new that should make me feel this way. I just wake up and want to scream.
Ever since the day I found the last remnants of Eric's life, things changed between us. I've been protective of him. But I'm going insane with all this isolation. I can't see him, or hear him. I can barely feel him.
"Oh, fuck, baby, that's so good. Yeah, just like that," Angel rasps, rubbing his face into my chest, smothering himself. It makes me laugh. He's playful. Fuck, I need more of that.
I look behind me, but there's no sign Eric's there. He'd have joined in by now. I even angle my hips so he can take me from behind.
There's nothing like feeling a human inside my pussy, and my strange, ghostly lover in my ass. It's cold and hot and wild and tight.
But Eric isn't there, and I need this release, so I turn my attention back to Angel. I ride him, let him motorboat my tits like an idiot, and close my eyes. I get lost in it, letting the pleasure build.
And then something strange happens.
There's a loud snap. Like bones cracking. And a quick gurgle, before the sound disappears.
Angel's dick is still hard, inside me. But his eyes roll into the back of his head, neck bent at an awkward angle.
I scream and jump up. The feel of his dick dragging out of me makes me retch, and I fall to the floor and start vomiting.
Because I know what I'm seeing.
I understand it, intellectually.
But it takes me a while to formulate my thoughts. To say the words.
"He's-he's—you ki-killed him," I stutter. I look at Angel, lying there naked. Eyes unseeing.
