Page 80 of Horror and Chill
Evander
I’m not in a rush. Garron isn’t either. He walks a few rows over, flashlight swinging low in his hand, eyes drifting across headstones like he’s out for a midnight stroll.
Corwin is the one moving like he’s got blood in his teeth. He cuts sharply across the rows, shoulders tense, the fake pickaxe jerking wildly as he searches every corner. He wants her first. He always does.
I could stop him. I could cut him off, steal her out from under him, prove I’m the one who controls this game. But the tantrum he’d throw after? I don’t have the patience for it tonight. Garron doesn’t either. Best to let the wild dog get the bone.
So I keep my pace lazy. My eyes track him from the dark.
He freezes near the back of the cemetery, and stares at a plot tucked against the fence line. A family grave with wrought-iron fencing. Four stones leaning together, names half-eaten by moss. The weeds are thicker there, tall enough to hide something small.
Corwin goes still in a way that tells me he’s found more than just broken stone. His mask tilts, round glass eyes catching the moon. His fingers flex once around the pickaxe, then he sets it down slowly, careful not to spook her.
I creep closer, soundless. I see the outline of her head just over the weeds, hair spilling like a flag. She doesn’t know he’s already marked her.
He lunges.
Her scream tears through the night, sharp enough to rattle in my chest. She thrashes hard, knees jerking, fists flying. For a second, I think she’ll break free. Corwin laughs low behind the mask, catches her waist, and heaves her up.
She kicks, spits, curses, every inch of her alive and fighting. He slings her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing. She hammers her fists against his back, but he doesn’t slow.
I hang back long enough to make sure she’s not hurt. Her voice is still strong and filled with venom. She wants it even if she swears she doesn’t.
We hurry ahead of him, Garron and I. Flashlights bouncing, boots chewing up the path back to the crypt. The camera’s waiting where we left it. I check the angle, flip it on. Red light blinks. It’s ready.
Corwin stomps into the crypt a beat later, Agatha over his shoulder, hair wild, skin flushed. He tosses her down on the slab. She lands hard, eyes wide, pupils blown, chest rising fast.
She’s trying to look furious, but the shine in her gaze betrays her.
She wants this as badly as she pretends she doesn’t.
32
Corwin
“Thought you’d get away?”I sneer, the mask muffling my voice, as I lean over her. My hands press her shoulders down, not gently. Never gentle. “You’re mine tonight, Little Horror.”
She kicks out at me, missing my mask by an inch. I laugh anyway, dragging my tongue slowly across the filter like I could taste her through it. “There she is. The fight. I live for this.”
My eyes stay locked on hers through the glass. She writhes, twisting under my grip, her thighs pressing together like she can trap the heat spilling between them. “Don’t pretend,” I growl, lowering until the snarl of my breath fills the space between us. “You want it. You fucking love it. You ran because you knew I’d catch you.”
Her teeth bare, her voice sharp. “I ran to get away from psychos like you.”
She’s acting for the camera.
“Liar,” I snap, pressing her wrists to the slab. “If you wanted to get away, you wouldn’t have worn that dress. You wouldn’thave strutted in front of your little camera, begging for someone to rip it off.”
Her glare cuts deep, but her breath betrays her; it’s fast, sharp, ragged.
Behind me, Garron shifts. “Ease up,” he rumbles. “She’s not going anywhere.”
I bare my teeth under the mask even if they can’t see it. “She’s not supposed to go anywhere. She’s supposed to learn what happens when she tempts me.”
My grip tightens, pinning her wrists harder. She gasps but doesn’t cry out. That’s what makes me crazed for her. No tears. Just fight. Just bite. Just enough to make me want to push her until she cracks.
Her voice cuts up at me, broken but sharp. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
I grin wide under the rubber, the filter rasping loud with every breath. “Everything. Every scream, every curse, every truth you choke on. I’ll take it all.”
