I don’t want it.
I don’t wanthim.
But I know he won’t leave without getting what he came for.
The shadow sticks out his arm, long fingers touching my ankle. They slick wetly over my skin, up my leg. Curving toward my inner thigh.
I must have kicked the sheets off, because they’re tangled at the foot of my bed, offering no protection against his sinister touch.
Those fingers slide up higher, higher, leaving a cool, tingling trail of wetness in their wake.
I smell blood.
No, no, no, no!
His fingers are coated, soaked,drippingwith blood.
Whose?
Oh God. He killed Kai, and now he’s come to finish the job so no one will know what we did last night.
I let out a desperate whimper when his fingers dip between my legs.
Stroking me.
Teasing me.
It feels so fucking good that for a second, I stop fighting him. Even the fear subsides just enough to allow a swell of pleasure to ripple through me.
Doesn’t last long.
Never does.
Something slaps down beside me, on the other side of the bed. I roll my head, staring wide-eyed at the strong hand sliding closer to me.
Kai is under the bed.
I want to scream, but all my air is trapped inside my lungs. My body is locked in place, and I can only howl silently in wild panic as Kai’s fingers scrape over my wrist, my stomach.
“Heavenly.” His voice is a rasp from a hidden mouth lurking in the darkness under my bed. But I can feel the hate radiating off his skin as grabs the flesh of my stomach, twisting like he wants to rip it off.
In contrast, Bastian’s gentle caresses over my aching, tingling pussy are so delicate, so tempting.
I’m getting wet for him. But Kai’s painful grip is making my mouth dry.
Kai’s second arm slaps down on the mattress, and he drags himself out from under the bed.
Naked.
Glistening.
Not with sweat, but blood.
His whole body is coated in blood.
It slicks his messy hair down his forehead. It drips from his nose onto the white sheets. Onto my arm. Onto my bare chest as he crouches beside me like one of Professor Rooke’s disturbing paintings he showed us in class.
The mattress dips on my other side as Bastian slides onto the bed. He’s still only a shadow, starkly silhouetted by the hallway light as he straddles me.
