He blinks.
Once.
Twice.
Poor baby. His body hasn’t quite processed it yet.
Then his face contorts slowly, horror creeping in. His mouth opens, a strangled breath escaping … and then he feels it. The fear hits like the delayed shockwave of a nuclear blast.
And fuck, it’s intoxicating.
“Don’t make a sound, baby, or I’ll take your balls.”
To ensure he fully understands, the thing controlling me shoves the knife a little deeper. When he whimpers, my gaze drops to his lap. Blood and piss bloom across his pants like some fucked-up humoral flower.
“What’s your name?” I growl as I twist the knife and lean into his neck.
There’s something about the way he smells that makes my mouth water. I can’t tell if it’s the thing inside of me, or me, but I want to rip him open and taste what’s inside.
“H-Harlan,” the man spits out around his quiet sobs.
I lift my head, my breath hot against his ear—controlled in a way I never am.
But I’m not the one steering.
The thing inside of me doesn’t just rage. It purrs, pressing closer, folding into my bloodlust and nuzzling my rage.
And why shouldn’t I let it tear him apart? Old Harly deserves to have his dick ripped off.
Except, shit. I’m not alone. Thane and Eve are here. I’m sure they’re watching.
Shut up and let me do this. The thought is mine, or at least, it feels like mine. It plants itself deep, settling into the darkness around me.
And worse? My body listens.
I feel it—a jolt—like being shoved from behind. My mind slams forward, clawing for control. I wrench myself back, breath sharp and hands shaking.
My body is mine again.
But it’s still there.
Lurking. Watching. Humming with approval.
“Poor Harlan. You really fucked up tonight. You see, I know what you did to that young girl. Did it make you feel powerful? Stripping away her innocence? Hearing her beg for her mother? And she wasn’t the only one, was she?”
“N-no.”
“Good boy, Harly. It’s unfortunate it took a knife to your balls to make you admit the sick shit you’ve done. What were you planning to do with me? Speak. Now.”
I’m vaguely aware of the sweet, buttery scent of kettle corn in the air.
Is this thing in my head part of my magic?
“I knew you’d say no. I was gonna follow you home. I wanted to hurt you. Take you by force. Make sure you scream. It turns me on when women beg me to stop. You’re a little older than I prefer, but you’re hot. And you look so innocent. I would’ve hurt you, over and over again, then dumped you somewhere no one would ever find you.”
Fucking vile. I want to scrape his words off my brain.
“Not very nice, Harly. I mean, only two days ago, someone tried to take everything from me, and they almost succeeded. It won’t happen again. Not to me, or any other woman.”
