Page 21 of Ghosts of Halloween

“Good girl,” he says and kisses my forehead.

Then he’s gone, and Groomer’s arms are around me again, holding me tightly, his body pressed to my back. He shakes, whether from anger or something else—I don’t know. But he’s back, warm and grounding, and I sink into him with a grateful sigh.

I feel lighter, somehow. Like actually saying it, having someone else know my shameful secret, lessened the burden of it. I can breathe more freely. And I don’t feel like crying anymore.

Strangler kneels between my legs, running his hands up my calves, and Groomer brushes my hair off my face, his lips at my ear. His quick, angry breaths tickle my skin and send sparks into my body as he whispers hoarsely.

“I’m sorry, Harlow. I should have been there. I should have saved you. And I’m not asking for forgiveness, because it doesn’t mean anything. I’m just telling you… It won’t happen again. I’ve got you now. I have you, princess.”

I exhale, his words soothing me while his and Strangler’s touch makes sparks burst behind my closed eyelids. The warm, tingling tension seeps back into my muscles, replacing the cold rigidity from before. I sigh and relax, Groomer’s arms safe and warm around me.

And in that relaxing warmth, a thought nudges me. I didn’t notice it before, but…

“How do you know my name?” I ask.

First Butcher, and now him. Both used my given name. It means I’m not just a random girl to them. They know me.

Groomer releases a quick breath, bringing his hand up to my cheek and tilting my head to the side so he can kiss down my neck. But his lips hover over my skin, not touching, and my breath hitches. I wait for the kiss.

“We know a lot about you,” he says, sounding mildly threatening. “Now, be a good girl and tell me as soon as we do something you don’t like. If you don’t, I’ll be fucking angry with you.”

His lips press to my skin, hot and demanding, and I gasp. I tilt my head further to give him better access. Strangler’s rough hands move up my thighs, pushing my legs apart until I widen my stance, and then, his mouth is back on me.

And I feel it now. How wet I am. For the first time in two years.

12

Silas

I watch them in silence, trying to distract myself from my uncomfortable thoughts. But I can’t shake the two most persistent issues. How it suddenly got harder to hate her. And how the plan feels not so perfect now.

This changes nothing, I tell myself, crossing my arms. So she’s suffered. Who hasn’t? Her trauma doesn’t cancel out mine, andsheis the root of everything that’s wrong with me. With us.

The boys may enjoy playing with her. They might fuck her, make her come, get everything they’ve wanted from her body. Especially Jack, but Caden, too. I know he misses pussy. I know he wants to top sometimes. So why shouldn’t he get it?

One last fucking game for us all.

That was the plan, and that’s what will happen. I step from foot to foot, watching as Harlow pants, Caden’s face back between her legs. Jack trails kisses down her neck and then pulls back, whispers in her ear, and turns to kiss down her bad arm.

All three of them are so into it. I move again and realize I’m fidgeting. This is making me uncomfortable, and for a moment, I wonder why. I’m no stranger to voyeurism. And straight sex has never really made me feel much.

So, what gives?

Caden pushes Harlow’s knee, opening her further, and I have an urge to go there, hook her knee up, and place it on his shoulder. She will be moreopen this way. More vulnerable. He will have better access and more control, and Jack will be more important for her support.

I already feel how the dynamic will shift, ratcheting up the tension at once.

Then I blink in confusion. Why would I even do that? I told them earlier that I won’t participate. I have no interest in it. Even the thought is off-putting.

Why does it seem so appealing now?

I bare my teeth and glare at Harlow. It’s her fault. She fucks with my head, making me forget what we are doing. Why we are even here. What we’ve gone through in the past two years.

Because of her.

And now, there she is, getting the boys’ full attention, the little princess they worship. Caden is on his knees for her. Yes, he knelt for me, too, but now he kneels forherand he never even wanted her like this. She’s just a kid to him. He’s 41, for fuck’s sake. She’s 22.

A fucking schoolgirl, and there he is, worshipping at her altar like her rundown pussy is the best fucking treat, when I know for a fact almost every dick in this town has fucked it at least once.

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