Page 52 of His to Haunt

I go and climb into the hot bath, ducking down into the water. Stacy is such a normal person; it’s refreshing. That she was friends with Zand’s mother must mean that at least his mother wasn’t so bad. Not strange like him, perhaps. So, what about his father? She didn’t mention him. Is he alive?

Zand’s mother died a natural death. So, not a vampire. Why do I need confirmation over such an outlandish thing? Zand’s stepmother is dead. Rachel’s dad is dead. Vampires don’t die. My sister was delusional.

As for Zand… the man is a sociopath or psychopath. He grew up in this weird house, weird town, a family life centered around death. His art is a testament to where his head is. He’s a dark and twisted soul. Can I really expect a man like that to behave rationally? To speak rationally?

I close my eyes, dunking my head under the water, and when I open my eyes again, there is a face on the other side of the water, dark eyes peering down at me.

Panic cuts through me as I jolt up in the water with a start, my heart exploding.

“Goddamn it!” I yell at Mom.

“Sorry to startle you, dear—it’s that noise again in the basement!”

“Well, I can’t do anything about it!”

“Something must be done.”

“I’ll have that guy that’s coming tomorrow take a look.”

She nods, satisfied, before leaving me. I get out of the tub, toweling off.

When I get back to my room, I’ve made a decision.

I can’t let myself be pulled around in crazy circles. This town is like a cult, and I refuse to become an adherent. But I do want the task of reading Rachel’s journal behind me so that I can move on with my life.

I will finish, but assuming she could still be alive is foolish. Whoever hurt her, causing so much blood, wasn’t interested in saving her. But still, I can’t just give up on her.

I climb into bed with the journal by lamplight, with the feeling of being watched. I scan the wall, seeing nothing. Pulling the blankets over me, I open the notebook where I left off.

Tomb

Rachel

Sometimes I don’t want him watching me, but other times…I don’t know why, but…tonight, when I undressed, I wanted to please him. To feed him.

I needed this, too.

So, I gave him a show…

Stripping down feels good after coming straight from the bath. I lay atop the blanket on the bed on my back, legs spread wide as I bring my hand down.

My fingers are like a conduit for his hungry eyes and mouth, stroking my clitoris before penetrating—is he salivating while watching, is he getting off?

I look directly into his eyes as I moan, my heart beating fast when the room gets suddenly cold. I should feel hot, but I’m shivering. I should feel satisfied, but I’m too alarmed. Does this change things? Was this an invitation on my part? He’s never crossed over before.

I climb under the covers to get warm and then I fall asleep. But then, when I wake again in the dark, I’m not alone, and I can feel the lack of distance between us. He isn’t a few feet away behind the boundary of the secret passageway. He is staring down at me from above, suspended beneath the ceiling just over the bed. Frozen with fear, I can’t scream. I’ve never been so scared before.

But then…he vanishes. The room gets warmer. I roll over onto my stomach, covering my head with the pillow. Too afraid to move again, I fall asleep.

I wake again in the dark to the feel of his needful cock inside me, thrusting demonically, riding me like a nightmare, possessing me utterly. Each thrust of his muscled hips slapping against my ass, pounding my pussy until I scream to the feel of his dark seed filling me.

He flips me over, pushing my hips wide as he plunges his erection deeply inside me, the bed slamming into the wall amidst the wet and violent slapping sound, louder than my thudding heart, and I cry out in the darkness as I near the edge of a dark, treacherous waterfall.

The creature growls, a deep hissing groan, more demon than animal, filling me with erotic terror. His glowing eyes shine into me as his rhythm slows, his body lowers against me, and my thighs clench his muscled legs, my body begging for release until orgasm hit me so hard I think I died. This is when he loses all strength, his grip softening before vanishing into thin air once more. I lower my shaky legs, my consciousness crashing into a dead sleep. -R

I’m changed. It’s hard to explain. For one, I’m no longer afraid of the phantom. He is the spirit of the Elder, alive and well. I know this now. It all makes sense. Only he can give me what the cousins refuse. By freeing the Edler, I free myself from this mortal prison. Then we can be together properly. -R

She hid it from me again. Zoe cannot destroy its dark magic; she can only hide it. But the phantom always returns it to its rightful maker. The embroidery is a pathway for the body to pass through, finally reuniting with the spirit, but only after all the pieces have been brought together in the final ceremony, which I must follow through to the end. -R

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