Page 57 of Ghosts of Halloween

“Oh, fuck,” I whisper.

I want to tell them no. I want to protest, run away, hide in a corner and… and what? There’s nothing for me outside this room. My world is so fucking small, and the only chance at redemption is right here, on this floor that’s wet with my tears under my cheek. I’m already broken beyond repair. Whatever they do won’t make me worse.

“Fuck,” Jack hisses when I hold my breath, trembling with anticipation and dread. “How do I…”

“I’ll fucking do it.”

My heart stutters when I hear Silas’s voice. It’s so hoarse, so utterly low and intense that if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was aroused.

But I don’t have time to think about it. Another gob of spit lands in my crack, and then, the pressure grows. I breathe out and try to push to make it easier, and finally, the cold, hard handle of the knife slides in.

“Fuck, man. You’re crazy,” Jack says with awe, and I shiver, whimpering, the cold invasion sending pinpricks of hot weakness deep into me. I do my best to relax, letting out a low moan, and the handle slides deeper.

Drops of hot liquid fall on my ass as the handle sinks fully in. But I can’t dwell on that, because the knife pulls out, and then back in, and I quiver with something that is not quite want, and yet not pain, either.

Warm hands settle on my waist, thumbs stroking my skin, and Jack murmurs softly, “That’s beautiful, princess. You’re taking this so well. Such a nice body, so open, taking what we give it.”

So welcome before, now his gentle voice hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut and hide my face, because Jack’s words make the guilt, the overwhelming blame, flare inside me. Suddenly, I wish the knife plunged into me, blade first.

I need pain. Not Jack’s sweet words. Not his tenderness.

Silas snorts coldly, and the knife’s handle shoves into me hard. I cry out, muscles spasming in futile resistance, and I swallow fresh tears at theunpleasant sting inside me. But as the pain jerks up my spine, my chest unclenches, and I shudder with relief.

“She’s not as weak as everyone thinks she is, Jack. She can handle it. Call her a slut,” he says, his mocking voice sending cold sparks into my ribcage. “She needs it, so tell her what you felt that night. Tell her everything.”

33

Jack

I stare at him, his face twisted mockingly, his eyes daring me, andfuck, the need to make Harlow truly hurt, to unload on her, is overwhelming. Yet, I clench my jaw.

“No.”

Silas laughs under his breath, shoving the handle of the knife deep inside her ass until she spasms with a whimper. He holds the blade like it’s nothing, even though I know he feels pain when he’s corporeal. Hot blood trickles down his wrist and drips onto Harlow’s skin.

For one night, we’re allowed to have bodies. That Silas chooses to use his for pain is insane, but then, he was always unhinged. Gripping the sharp blade of a knife in his palm and fucking someone’s ass with the handle is right up his alley.

“Tell him, angel. He wants to spare you out of love,” Silas says, his mocking voice making that word sound dirty and pathetic. “But I think you want him to call you a slut. You want him to shatter you. So tell him.”

She turns her face as much as Caden’s hold allows and opens her eyes. They glimmer with tears, and I’m torn between the urge to hug her—and to make her cry for real.

“Tell me, Jack,” she whispers hoarsely. “Tell me everything. Make it hurt.”

And fuck me, but that sweet, raspy voice blows my willpower to bits. I can’t resist any longer.

“Fine. Since you ask so nicely,” I say, eyes straying to Silas’s hand.

Heworks the knife fast, in and out of Harlow in a jabbering rhythm that makes her twitch violently. I suspect if she didn’t hold on to the tatters of her control, she’d be yelling. Maybe I can break her enough to make her scream yet.

“You’re a fucking slut,” I say, the viciousness surprising me. I thought I dealt with it. Evidently not. “Watching you hop on top of every dick you could get was bad enough, but Harlow, for fuck’s sake. I could have handled it if you just fucked them and moved on. If you were just… promiscuous… it wouldn’t be a problem while you weren’t mine yet.”

She moans, her voice ragged, as the handle of the knife lodges deep inside her. Silas snarls softly, and I watch in fascination as he pushes his finger inside her to go beside the handle. Stretching her even more.

“Go on,” he says, glancing up with eyes that don’t belong on a human face. Silas looks like a demon, someone possessed. “Let it all out, Jack.”

“But every time you picked up a guy to fuck, you had this pathetic, hopeful look on your face,” I say. I never meant to say it out loud. Those were thoughts I thought under the cover of shadows, watching Harlow from a dark nook so she wouldn’t notice my eyes on her. “And that fucking look, that pathetic hope, is what got us killed. Because if you just fucked that guy, nothing would have happened. But you had to be so fucking needy.”

I pant, staring at her face, sweaty and wet with tears, her hair messy. My princess is so fucking filthy. Always was. And I thought I loved her despite it.

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