Page 17 of Corrupt Shadows

There is a deep ache in my chest. Even though we are in separate realms, I feel it down to the marrow of my bones. It’s inescapable, and I want to throttle her for it. The desire to throw her down and slice her open with a serrated blade from neck to navel is almost too much to bear.

I walk into her living room in the Shadow Realm and comb through the shelves there.

I run my hand along the side of the black shelf, behind a book, and something catches under the nail of my index finger. I eye the business card with curiosity. The corners are torn, kissed by age.

Darkwood Asylum

Est. 1778

“Here, unstable minds see the world anew.”

Well, that’s fucked. She might be just as deranged as I am. I smile and flick the card. There’s little else of interest on the shelves besides some thrillers, so I move on to the kitchen.

The coffee mug she uses most, covered with skulls, pink roses, cobwebs, and moths, sits in front of the stand holding the rest of her mugs. She has an obscene amount of coffee paraphernalia. Anything imaginable that could be used to create caffeinated beverages has a place in the shrine to the coffee gods. Above the coffee bar hangs a sign that reads “Dangerous Brews” with a bubbling cauldron underneath the text.

I run my fingers through my hair and growl. I’ve had enough of only watching. It’s impossible to ignore her lure. I crave to punish her. I’ll start with spanking her and end with her blood spilled. I’ll bring her back from the brink of death again and again to revel in the sweet desperation of her will to live.

I don’t need blood as sustenance, but the taste of it coating my tongue is like a drug, leaving me instantly high like a snort of cocaine. When I eventually leave her bloodied, battered, and bruised…

I force my thoughts away from anything to do with her blood, but my cock doesn’t get the message.

I walk back into her office and brace my hands on the wall close to the antique mirror. My length hardens achingly. Pain travels through my forearms as I slam my fists against the wall. I hate the witch, but I can’t stop thinking of her.

I pop open the button of my jeans and tear them down my legs, freeing my cock, and immediately grab it in my fist. I grip my shaft and jerk off with angry, violent strokes, chasing my release and wishing I could be thinking about any other woman but her. The loathing for the witch fuels me, my strokes fevered.

In my mind, a fantasy plays out before me—Evie sprawled out on her bed in my realm. My shadows grip her throat, binding her wrists and ankles to the frame. She can’t speak because of the pressure on her windpipe. My balls ache, wishing to be fondled. Her struggles and whimpers pour gasoline over bonfires of lust within me. The flames shoot high, and my back arches. My head falls back onto my shoulders as I thrust into my hand.

In my mind, I tear into her, splitting her pussy in half with my cock as I fuck her so hard, her body’s impression on the mattress will be permanent.

My orgasm barrels through me too soon. “Fuck, little witch,” I groan. Cum jets in streams against the wall in front of me.

Why does every time I come now feel like self-imposed torture?

My hands shake as I tuck myself into my pants, then pull up the zipper and button them. The witch lives in every thought that flashes through my mind. Iron coats my tongue as I sink my teeth into my cheek, tearing through the delicate skin and muscle. Pain, my comfort emotion, does little to exorcise her from my mind.

I tread heavily into her bedroom. My gaze sweeps the room before landing on her gray-stained wooden dresser. Something crunches beneath my boot when I step through the debris of clothes and books. The wood against my fingertips grates against my skin like it wasn’t sanded properly it as I yank one of the two remaining drawers in her dresser toward me. I grunt as the old-fashioned iron knob stabs into my abdomen, but the slight pain is a welcome distraction.

My cock twitches as I scan the plethora of panties lined neatly in rows. I shake my head, smiling slightly. The impeccable organization of her undergarments makes it even more enjoyable to trash them.

I rip the drawer out the rest of the way, then tip it, the contents cascading all over her rumpled comforter. Silk, lace, satin, and cotton slip against my fingers as I rifle through the monochrome pile. I close my eyes, breathing heavily through my nose. My claws break free, and my pinky snags on a pair of simple cotton panties. There are miniature pumpkins printed all over the black fabric. I run my finger along the lace-trimmed waist, then I bring the panties to my nose.

I moan while pressing my little witch’s panties harder against my face. Her scent clings to the laundered undergarment. My blood ignites, then sends shockwaves to my groin. For a moment, the temptation to wrap her panties around my cock and fuck them with my fist overwhelms me. My every thought obsesses with rubbing her vanilla scent into my skin.

Cackling outside of the window snaps me out of my lust-filled trance. I narrow my eyes at the pair of demons chatting on the sidewalk below. The back of my knuckles brush against my lighter and cigarettes as I tuck the panties inside my pants pocket.

Filling her panties with my cum will have to wait until later.

SEVEN

Lorcan

I stand in the mirrored doors of Aiden’s bedroom closet. He’s sprawled on top of the covers, wearing navy-blue boxer briefs. He’s not asleep, but he’s deep in his thoughts about the witch’s best friend.

The clock on his wall ticks a few minutes past eight in the evening. The witch is on edge still, after seeing the cross last night. It’s the perfect opportunity to scare her, but her shift won’t finish at the diner until three.

I lean against the wardrobe in the Shadow Realm apartment and stare at Aiden. His forearm rests across his eyes, but I don’t miss the twitch of his lips. His thoughts come through clearly.

The woman has an actual collection of dicks. Fucking full-on obsession. I haven’t even seen where she lives yet, but I can imagine what a mindfuck it is. She’s crazy about dicks! It sounds like she even had pillows shaped like them. Fucking pillows! Mugs, slippers—

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