24. Camryn

TWENTY-FOUR

CAMRYN

Wilfred puts his fingers to his nose, breathes in deeply, and groans. "She's so sweet, I think I'll have to keep her. That pussy sure is tight."

Dominic hangs his head, his dark hair flopping over his eyes. "You're a dead man."

"Speak up, boy. I can't hear ya."

He lifts his head and glares at Wilfred. "I'm going to kill you!"

Silence slides in through the cracks in the floor, slithering over my bare legs like a whispered threat.

Wilfred shoves the gun against Dominic's forehead, a manic glint in his eyes. I cry out, crawling forward, my Chucks smearing a path through the blood on the floor.

"Stay back," Dominic warns, wriggling against his restraints.

"No…" I kneel in front of Wilfred, clasping his overalls. Desperation is all I have left. My dignity has died a slow death, and I don't care what it takes to save Dominic. It doesn't matter. I'll do whatever it takes to end this nightmare. "Please don't hurt him. What do you want? Tell me. I'll do anything." I trail my hand higher and cup his dick through his overalls. "I'll suck you. Please just let him go."

He regards me, his dick hardening in my grip.

Beside me, Dominic's eyes glare holes into my face, but I don't spare him a glance, not now when I have Wilfred's attention. Something tells me that if I lose it, he'll kill Dominic this time, and I won't get a second chance.

A second chance at what? Distracting him for long enough for Dominic to escape the ropes that bind him? Distract him long enough to find a way to kill the man in front of me myself? Can I do that? Maybe if I snatch the gun from him when he's distracted? Do I even know how to use one?

I squeeze his dick. "Let me taste your cock."

With the gun still pressed to Dominic's temple, Wilfred brushes my hair away from my forehead with his dirty hand.

Dominic opens his mouth to talk, but I shoot him a pleading glance before looking back up at the monster, who unclips his overalls, his voice slithering over my skin like a disease. "You want my cock inside that pretty mouth of yours, darlin'?"

His overalls fall to his knees, and I'm hit with the stench of his unwashed dick. He palms it and strokes the length while Dominic shifts in my periphery.

I force myself to keep my eyes locked on Wilfred. Now is not the time for distractions. I can't afford to lose his attention or the darkening lust in his dull eyes.

I'm just about to lean in when he grips my hair and yanks me back. "What do you call me, darlin'?"

My scalp burns with pain, and I swallow down a whimper. "Daddy?—"

I pause as something catches my attention on the dresser to his left.

A porcelain doll.

He smacks my cheek, and Dominic releases a bunch of expletives, calling him every name under the sun, no doubt trying to force his attention back on him.

A shiver splashes down my spine when, in slow motion, I become aware of a whisper of a breath at my neck.

"The window is open." I turn my head. Wilfred has my hair clasped in his hand again.

"Focus," he orders, smacking his dick against my cheek, but I'm too distracted by the billowing curtain and the summer breeze that moves through the trees outside.

"When you hear its whispers travel through the rustling leaves, you run as fast as you can."

"You left the window open," I say again, more forcefully, and time slows.

Eternity stretches out in front of me.

I look back at the porcelain doll, suppressing a shiver when a bead of blood slips from the crack in its cheek.

The breath at my neck brushes past me, kissing my damp skin. I fix my attention on Wilfred. "It feeds on negative emotions and desire," I emphasize the last word, my heart beating faster.

Wilfred's eyes turn black and shivers race through me when he cups my chin and lifts it. "His obsession with you is delicious."

He releases me just as fast. I stumble to Dominic, who's desperately struggling to untie his rope while Wilfred lifts the shotgun to his mouth.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Dom." My fingers tremble on the ropes as my eyes blur with tears. The knots are too tight. My nails catch more than once, and I release a sob, wiping the wetness from my cheeks.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." The deep rumble of his voice makes me pause. We gaze at each other as the seconds tick by. I can see what he's not saying in that broken look. He's sorry he couldn't save me in time.

That Wilfred got his hands on me.

My eyes speak their own language, too.

I'm sorry I betrayed you.

He jerks his chin to the ropes. "Keep going."

Torn from my stasis, I grapple with the ropes.

Wilfred chokes on the gun, his finger trembling on the trigger.

The first knot untangles, and I set to work on the second while Dominic shoulders out of the ropes.

Bang!

I flinch, untying the final knot, just as Wilfred's body collapses to the floor. Dominic removes the last ropes before standing up and hauling me to my feet. He's weak, swaying on the spot.

Palming my cheeks, he inspects my face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"He shot me in the leg."

Dominic looks down at my calf and then curses. Sliding his arm behind my knees, he lifts me against his chest.

"You're injured," I point out. "Let me walk."

"Not a fucking chance. You're bleeding." He steps over Wilfred's lifeless body on the floor, and we leave the room.

Everything else fades but his blood-smeared, sweaty face and tight jaw. I wish I could smooth the worry lines on his forehead, but exhaustion sinks its claws into me.

Outside, the sun blinds us. Dominic's heavy footsteps thunder down the porch steps. He strides across the yard, past the chicken coop and the gap in the fence.

All around us, the breeze moves through the branches, subtly shifting the leaves. Whispering secrets of the past. Secrets that urge me to crane my neck to look over his shoulders at the woods. The fir and oak trees stretch tall behind the house, their roots buried deep.

Soothed by their lullaby, a song of woes, I glance at one of the upstairs windows. The curtains shift as though someone peers through the gap, watching us flee the property.

The curtains fall back into place, and I'm torn from my thoughts as we slip through the gate. It creaks, and then we're on the move again.

I'm vaguely aware of Dominic opening the truck door and easing me inside, the leather seat hot against my bare legs and shoulders. When I wince, Dominic stills and tucks my hair away from my cheek.

The move is so tender that my eyes fill with more tears. I don't deserve his gentle touch or his concern. Don't deserve to be forgiven for what happened in that house, for allowing my curiosity to bring us there. I dragged him into hell, and now I'm bleeding all over his seat.

"Look at me, baby," he coaxes, cupping my trembling chin.

His quivering fingers are too much. I try to look away, but he forces me to meet his gaze. To see the worry that mars his sharp features. "Tell me you're okay. You have to be okay. Otherwise, I'll go insane. I need you."

"I'm broken, Dom… He touched me, and I…."

He digs his fingers into my chin, and the pain helps ground me. "Listen to me. You're not broken."

"You don't understand… I liked it," I whisper, my voice as haunted as the forest behind Wilfred's property.

"Shut up," he growls, jostling me. "You didn't like him touching you."

My chin wobbles as I stare at him through my tears.

"Your body reacted to stimuli. You don't have to be ashamed. You're not the only person that's happened to. It doesn't mean that you wanted him ."

"I hurt you."

"No," he chokes, pressing his lips to mine before I can object. His tongue delves into my mouth, and I gasp. His kiss is biting, forceful, and everything I need. He devours me while the sun settles behind the trees and the crickets come out to sing in the summer heat. He steals the very last breath from my lungs. Then, when oblivion arrives to take me away, he breathes life back into me.

With a final peck to my lips, he says, "He's dead now. He can't hurt you anymore."

I gulp and then flick my eyes up to his. "Something killed him."

He peers into my soul, my chin still gripped tightly.

When he says nothing, I let the truth flow from my lips. "Something evil."

Grinding his teeth, he releases my chin and trails his fingers down the side of my jaw and throat until his touch lingers at my racing pulse point.

"Something that wants me," I finish.

I knew back there that whatever entered through the window on a wisp of summer breeze wouldn't hurt me.

Not yet, anyway.

Not until it has killed everything that stands in its way.

"Shut the doors," I order. "It travels in the wind."

He gazes at me for a brief moment longer, then slips from the truck and shuts the door. I watch him round the vehicle before my eyes land on a figure in the road.

The axe dangles from his fingers, his gaze peering at me through the windshield. His shirt is unbuttoned, and a vagrant breeze plays with the lapels, lifting them away from his tanned skin.

As the truck rocks, he looks over at Wilfred's property.

"Let's get you home." Dominic cranks the engine, and exhaust fumes fill the air.

I say nothing as the truck drives forward.

Just before the man on the road disperses into thin air, like that night Dominic's father lost control of the car and careened into the river, his eyes find mine. Dark and sorrowful.