Page 21 of Grave Possession

I’m barely holding onto my composure as I stomp across the house and rip the front door open. It smashes loudly into the wall behind it then swings back and hits me in the ass on my way out. I glare at it, resisting the urge to throw my weight into it.

Turning, I make my way to the side of the house where the internet connection is. I can see the wiring has been cut which is why the cameras and wi-fi internet aren’t working. I make a mental note to call the provider when they open in a few hours. I’m going to catch this asshole if he comes back again, then I will have the evidence I need.

I cross the yard to my truck, drop the tailgate, and climb up into the back. Unlocking my tool box, I rummage through all the junk I have stored in here, searching for the game cameras I collected from Edward’s house after he was disposed of. Finding them, I head back inside after retrieving the charging cords from the centre console of the vehicle. They won’t be able to send pictures directly to my phone until the internet is fixed, but once they are charged, they can store pictures in their hard drive for me to review.

In the kitchen, I plug in the cameras, leaving them to charge on the counter. Heading to the bathroom, I shower for the first time in…I don’t even know how many days, then flop down into Mal’s bed. Her smell is fading, being replaced by the aroma of my poor hygiene. I can’t have her come back to this mess I’ve made. I keep forgetting to stop and get the supplies needed to fix the dent I put in the wall.

Fuck, I’m a mess without her.

Rising from the mattress, I strip her sheets, chucking them in the corner by the hamper. Then remake the bed, spritzing a bit of her perfume onto the mattress. Laying back down, I try to make a checklist of all the things I need to do: Fix the wall, replace her mug, do the laundry, call the internet guy, and find my little siren. Her heavenly scent wraps around me, coaxing me into sleep. I welcome the dreamland it’s leading me to, it’s the only place I can hold her until she returns to me.

Chapter Sixteen

Mallory

“Get up.” His voice has a lethal edge to it as I scramble up from the mattress. My entire body flares in agony but I keep the cries caged behind my teeth. If I clench them any tighter, I’m sure they will crack. My captor’s emotions have been flipping quick as a light switch since he returned the other day, and he’s been especially brutal. One of my eyes is swollen shut, and I have a pretty serious limp from his work boots connecting with my knee. I don’t know if he’s devolving or close to being caught, but what I do know is that I can’t take much more of this.

“We’re going for a run.” He encroaches on my space, grabbing the collar around my neck and hauling my body against his. He undoes the lock, removing it from the hole that secures the shackle in place. It opens, and he lets it fall, unbothered if it gets damaged as it connects with the hard ground. His eyes are too focused on the marks littered across my body, and painted around my throat.

“A run? I can barely walk,” I say as meekly as possible, but it still comes out sounding snarky.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls against my ear. “You better run, or I’ll put you down like a racehorse with a broken leg.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.” I hobble my ass across the room, looking at the stairs that have no railing for me to lean on. I have no idea how I’ll manage the short incline without falling. Do I crawl? My knee won’t take the pressure, I know it. Glancing back at my kidnapper, he huffs out his annoyance. I need to figure out what happened while he was gone that’s resulted in this erratic behaviour. Maybe I can play a caring role. Would it get him to open up? Could I diffuse the ticking time bomb he’s become? Not only can I see the downward spiral in his behaviour, but it’s changed the atmosphere around us. The air is thick with negative energy, charged with something that brings goosebumps to my skin throughout the day, even when he isn’t here.

“I’m not going to make it up these stairs without some help.” I’m already out of breath from the small trek across the room, there’s no way I’m going to be able to fulfill his needs once we get outside.

“Can you help me…please?” I ask, watching his snarl turn to shock as I extend my hand. I bet no one has ever willingly wanted his touch before. Hopefully this small gesture moves things more in my favour. “Come on, I’m begging here,” I chuff out a fake laugh, wincing as I stand unsteadily. “It hurts like hell to move.” He looks like a deer in the headlights, frozen in place by my gesture. The throb in my body intensifies as I stand there, shoulder repelling against the movement of waving him over to me.

Finally, his brain rattles to life and he’s moving toward me, slipping his right hand into mine, and banding his left arm around my back to support me. I have to weigh next to nothing now, the sandwich was the last thing I ate with any real sustenance. The clothes he gave me after the shower, a light pink tank top and tiny, black shorts with ‘juicy’ scrawled across the ass in bedazzled lettering, are dirty and blood-stained, but at least they fit. I resist the urge to tense up and recoil away from his touch. If I ever hope to live through this fucked up situation, I need to bring our forming bond to the forefront of his mind.

He steadies me as I take the first step up, wobbling on my bad leg. His grip on me tightens, ensuring I don’t crumple, and I can’t help but think that this isn’t how he should be reacting. He should want to inflict pain, inject so much terror into my veins that he could feast on it. Instead, he’s helping me.

Does his obsession run deeper than before?

Has it changed since he got his hands on me?

Yes, he said he wants to keep me, but he also yearns for me to want this—him. He took me by force before, still giving in to his sadistic needs. However, I’m not completely blind to the fact that I’ve probably outlived most of his victims. He told me I’m perfect, and I can’t imagine he’s said that before.

We slowly ascend the staircase towards fresh air while my mind runs a mile a minute. By the time we reach the top, I’ve concluded that I’m the one with all the power. He’s obsessed with me. He thinks I’m his equal. He cravesa fucked up partner in crime, and I’m going to give him exactly what he wants. I’ll be whatever he needs, do whatever sick shit he desires, to get back home to Ghost.

“Can you stand?” he asks, startling me from my swirling thoughts.Let the games begin.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you for helping me.” We cross the threshold, and I bask in the feeling of the cool grass beneath my bare feet. The fresh air blows across my battered skin, and the warmth of the sun’s rays chase away my incessant chill. I look into his eyes that would actually be quite pretty if there wasn’t so much evil swimming within the depths of them. He seems reluctant to remove his hands from my body, and I already feel like I’ve got one up on him. How many more times do I have to fake a wanted touch to have him eating out of the palm of my hand? His fingers trail across my back before they fall away from me. “Which way should I go?” I ask, waiting for him to tell me to run.

“Surprise me,” he gets out after clearing his throat. I can’t help but notice his glossy eyes. What’s that about? Is the big, bad sadist really just a touch-starved baby? This will be so fucking easy.

I take two steps, and my knee gives out. I collapse, falling into him, and he catches me.Checkmate.

“Okay, maybe you can’t run today,” he says. Something like compassion mixes with his words, and I think I must have more brain damage than I anticipated.

“I can try again. Please… don’t be mad,” I plead, infusing the fear he wants into my voice.

“Even if you tried, it wouldn’t be much of a hunt,” hehuffs, still clinging to me. He likes my fire, my messed up desires, and my incessant need to keep fighting.

“And whose fault is that?” I jest. His eyes narrow and I stare him down. He diverts his gaze first, surrendering to the alpha. His line of sight drags down my body, stalling on my swollen knee, the dark purple colour stark against my ghostly skin. His eyes linger longer than they should, and I wonder if he’s reliving the memory of stomping on me when I was down, kicking me relentlessly until I finally broke and screamed in agony for him.

I remain still, not wanting to break our physical connection. The contact seems to be keeping the more humane side of him at the forefront. But, when his eyes finally return to mine, the evil is back, bright and beaming in those cerulean irises.

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