Page 37 of Haunted Nightmares

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Page 37 of Haunted Nightmares

But I don’t bother looking back as I move as quickly as my body allows, a sick little smile touching my lips as I slam the door behind me and make my way to the bayou.

The bayou where I can find myself a witchy little blonde who might just be the solution to all of my problems.

10

Don’t Drink the Water

Sensible white cotton panties.

High waist, seamless, no-show.

Comfort and function versus any other purpose this particular piece of clothing could serve.

I never thought I’d see anything like them again.

Straightening my spine, I reach behind my head and pull the undersized t-shirt from my body, tossing it aside as I stare down at a positively soaked pair of the most modest panties.

“Very practical,” I say as I step forward and trace the elastic band, my thumb brushing over baby-soft skin as I do. “Understandable, really. I’m sure they have a longer shelf life than most. Financially sound decision.”

My hand moves slowly over the delicate curve of her slender hips, higher to her ribs where my fingers follow their shape toward the middle of her heaving chest.

She takes a deep, shuttering breath as I flatten my palm above her breasts and slide down toward the center where the cups of her bra meet. “This, too. Very functional. Modest. Lovely in a rather boring sort of way.”

Pushing one single lycan claw through my index finger, I hook it in the cream colored fabric and with a twist of my wrist, the bra pops open to expose two small, pert breasts.

Pale pink nipples now puckered. Fair skin illuminated by fire light. Tiny freckles dotting her chest and neck in a pattern that shifts and moves with each panting breath she takes.

My eyes flare as the straps of the now useless garment fall off of her shoulders, slipping down her arms until it’s dangling behind her around bound wrists.

“I can see the appeal.” I lean down as my hand moves back up between her breasts, my claw ghosting over her flesh until I wrap my fingers around her throat. “Sweet, innocent, nearly angelic. Talk about opposites attract.”

Applying mild pressure to her neck, I pierce her flesh, just enough for a tiny bit of blood to bubble to the surface while I reach up with my other hand to remove the cloth from her face.

And when it does, when that rich red liquid meets the air, every dark and deviant thing inside me stirs to life.

Iris gasps as I lean toward her, the female’s heart racing, her body responding to my every move. Her big blue eyes blink at me, the unnatural blue color disappearing behind her lids in rapid succession as she attempts to adjust to the low light.

“The rosy hue does wonders for you, makes you look like a porcelain doll. One I’ll thoroughly enjoy playing with, yeah.” Lifting my finger, I lick the speck of blood from the tip of the claw then force a second to form at the end of my middle. “In another life, perhaps. Males like me,monsterswho are dying from the inside out? We no longerplay.”

Without hesitation my left hand dives into her hair, pulling the nearly white blonde strands hard as my fist closes tightly around them. I yank her head back further, causing Iris’s mouth to drop open and when it does, I shove my claws inside deep enough for her to gag.

“Show. Me,” I growl, my stare shifting to hers, those fabricated blues watering from the way I wrench her jaw open further. “Show me,witch. Your king demands it.”

Choking on my fingers, Iris tries to shake her head but my grip won’t allow for that so she settles for mumbling a harshnoinstead.

I lower myself further toward her, her ragged breaths puffing across my mouth as I remove my hand from her face. “Noyou won’t show me, ornoyou’re not a witch?”

“B-both,” Iris says as she coughs. “I-I am n-n-not a w-witch. I h-have nothing t-to show.”

Abruptly releasing her, I roar out my frustration and grab the closest piece of furniture, an ottoman I ruined months ago and launch it toward the fireplace while I spin away from her. It crashes against one of the Descendants impaled on the bits of iron fence still standing, the ottoman hitting his midsection hard enough to dislodge his lower half from his body with a crunchy, wet plop.

“You are a shitty liar, Iris, and I am the last person you should be lying to.” I take a deep breath and try to calm myself because the wisp of a female has been a nervous wreck since I kidnapped her and if I want to get any information from her, yelling isn’t how to go about it. Unfortunately, torture isn’t working either. “If you aren’t a witch then please explain why that awful little troll was following you and your twit companion.”

“I-I don’t know, I swear. We didn’t, we didn’t even know he was there.”

Lies.

This cherub-looking female, one who by all appearances wouldn’t hurt a fly, lies like she’s pathological and is dim enough to assume the king of the entire race can’t see through them. And though I haven’t broken the barrier just yet, I’ve been able toperiodically detect cracks in whatever spell or glamor she’s been using to hide her true appearance so it’s only a matter of time before I get to the bottom of things.