7. Autumn

CHAPTER 7

Autumn

I don't know why I started pouring my heart out to this guy. He's got so much makeup on, I can't recognize him, but he seems so familiar. And with him holding me like this… I don't want to let go.

There does seem to be something wrong with me, though, because holding him like this just makes me want to fuck around and find out what's in his pants. Unlike the other guys, this one seems a little lifeless down there, which is probably for the best because I've been on a horny binge and I need to be stopped.

I lift my head to his again, sliding between his legs as he sits on the gravestone. He's about the same size as Teddy, if not a little thinner. Maybe that's why I'm so attracted to him.

"Can I kiss you again?" I ask, stroking my thumb over his lips again.

He closes is eyes—or rather, one eye—as I do, enjoying the sensation. The other eye is probably tapes open for the effect. There must be like a whole Halloween renaissance going on with people making costumes this good. Or maybe I'm only attracted to the kind of people who put together hyper realistic Halloween costumes.

Finally, he lets out an affirmative grunt. I sigh as I press my lips against his again. A tear forms in my eye. It's almost like kissing Teddy again—the way his mouth works against mine is almost uncanny. This time, I'm the wild one, pulling him close and sticking my tongue down his throat. It's nice to pretend. To imagine that it hasn't been seven years since he died. That we decided to have a little role-play session in a graveyard.

So unfair to this guy, though.

I pull back, panting as I look at him, needing to prove to my heart he isn't Teddy. He has grey contacts in that cover his eyes. His hair is dusty, raggedy and long, though black like Teddy's. But Teddy was never this thin—he always had the nicest amount of squish in his belly and made it feel okay for me to have squish too. The man looks back at me, his eyes full of some indiscernible emotion as they rake over my face and body. He's probably thinking I'm crazy, but at least he'll get something out of this.

I need to let go of him. Teddy was beautiful when he was alive, but he was dumb as bricks. He could love me, but he couldn't protect me. He couldn't provide. I have to tell myself these things to help forget him.

"I'm so sorry—" I start to say, pulling away.

But he doesn't let me. Instead, he kisses along my fingers, my knuckles, my arms. His hands massage my breasts in their cups before his eyes flick to mine for permission. I help him get them out, knowing the corset is laced tight. My boobs are at my chin as he licks around them, already tight with the pressure from the corset and extra sensitive. He hold my back with one hand, my shoulder with the other and lays me down on the grass. One of the graves is freshly filled, I guess—there's dirt everywhere.

We shouldn't be doing this here. And yet somehow it feels right—maybe Teddy is looking on from wherever we go in the afterlife, urging this on. Or hell, maybe he's watching as a ghost. Maybe I'm giving him some ecto spank bank material. The fact that this guy goes straight for the boobs doesn't help me get over how much he reminds me of Teddy. I guess I have a type.

He's brutal, his teeth biting hard, scraping across my nipples. That'll leave marks.

He thrusts himself against my pelvis. I match the effort with my own, feeling his cock come to life between my legs. He kisses down my cheek—I guess I was crying. I try not to beat myself up, thankful he seems to be into taking me at whatever level I give him.

My heart aches to say I miss him.

He nibbles at my ear, kisses my temple, scratches his teeth along my… skull.

I sit up quickly, not about to go through this again.

"Please, this isn't funny," I tell him.

His eyes have that hooded, lusty look in them, but he looks confused.

"The zombie act?" I tell him. "I already told you about the vampire and the werewolf dude, didn't I? The excessive role-play shit is too much for me. I didn't sign up for that and I'd like to opt out, please and thank you.

"Ahh," he says—close enough to the first words he's spoken since I met him.

"Good, so you get it," I grumble, pulling my knees in towards my chest.

He crawls towards me. "Tum…"

"I mean, I do like tummy kisses," I mumble, leaning back. "But no head biting please, I'm over the role-play and I just want to be worshipped."

"Love," he says, drawing the word out so long it gets lost against my skin.

"Yeah, like that," I huff.

I lean back as I see a bat flying overhead.

And then a giant, golden-blonde mass tumbles into the zombie and knocks him over.

"Don't you eat her!" the mass growls.

It pushes the zombie to the ground, and I barely have time to process what's happening as I jump to my feet in a panic to defend him.

"Don't hurt him!" I cry out.

The blonde mass turns towards me, and then I recognize it—the werewolf. I should have recognized him, but I guess you don't go around expecting the guy you made out with half an hour ago to barrel over the guy you make out with next.

Actually, on second thought, maybe that's a normal reaction for guys to have.

"Just because I didn't let you bite me? What are you doing?!" I scream at him.

A small cloud of mist billows out from beside me, and there's Vincent. He grabs my arm.

"Come with me—"

"—If I want to live? No thanks, bloodsucking terminator," I scoff, pulling my arm away.

"I told you, I'm Irish. Not Transylvanian. Not Austrian," he sighs. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"And you're just going to let that freak tear that dude apart?" I say, my voice shrill.

The ‘freak' in question looks back at me, his blue eyes full of hurt. His eyes, clearly set in a wolfish face. Slobber drips from his mouth. His lips pull back and quiver in that way that wolves do on the attack. And to be standing like he is on stilts seems impossible, especially with the speed at which he moves.

"I'm trying to protect you!" he growls, the words matching his mouth movements.

He rips an arm away from the zombie, but instead of screaming or bleeding profusely, the zombie's arm continues to grab at and attack the wolf.

Oh my god, this is all real.

Either that, or I'm having the craziest , most unhinged wet dream imaginable. The vampire and werewolf I could understand dreaming about, but the literal zombie?

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the wolf growls at Vincent. "Stay away from her!"

The wolf throws the arm back at the zombie it belongs to and lunges for the vampire. He pushes me to the side—assumably to get me out of the way, and poofs into a vampire. Vincent starts to fly away, until the werewolf just barely catches him in a claw and throws him to the ground. Vincent sputters from the impact, poofing back into his human shape.

He's more limber than the wolf, sliding up and around him to cling to his back and sink his teeth into his neck.

"Careful, Squeaky," the werewolf grumbles, twisting this way and that to subdue Vincent. "You know what werewolf blood'll do to ya."

Vincent brings his thumbs to the werewolf's eyes and presses hard. "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, they say."

"Son of a bitch," the werewolf spits out.

"You're not welcome on my land," the vampire hisses. "Let alone around my consorts, Chandleton. "

"She's my mate, not your consort," the werewolf grunts. "And my name is Fenrir!"

"Oh yeah, you and fifteen hundred other wolves," Vincent scoffs. "At least your old name stood out."

Chandleton almost rings a bell, but it has to be a nickname. And besides, I can't think too much about it in the midst of all the fighting. Fenrir finally tosses Vincent from his back. The vampire looks a little dazed, but moves fast enough as they come together for another round.

I lose track of the zombie until he jumps on Vincent's back, plunging his hand through his chest from behind.

"Oh fuck me!" the vampire yelps. "Fuck that hurts, that hurts! I know I barely use it, but that's my fucking heart!"

All three of them roll around, vampire dominating werewolf, werewolf dominating zombie, zombie dominating vampire in… well, what has to be the sexiest game of rock, paper, scissors ever invented. Because they're all fighting over me.

It's sick and fucked up, but I'm so into this.