28. Dominic

TWENTY-EIGHT

DOMINIC

The vicar drones on and on in the small church. A week has passed since the news of Brittany's death.

They ruled it a heart attack.

Fuck that. We all know it wasn't her heart that gave out. There's something far more sinister going on. Something that's waiting and watching.

Despite the endless summer heat, it's cold in the church. It's an old structure with worn pews and an ethereal feel, probably from the centuries of devotion and reverence absorbed by the stones.

Camryn is scratching the inside of her arm, but when I try to reach for her, she pulls away. She's been distant since Brittany's death, blaming herself for the events that have occurred since the séance.

I'm fed up with her fucking resistance, so I grab her wrist and yank up the long sleeve of her dress, mindful not to let her mom notice. What is she doing wearing a long-sleeve dress in this warm heat?

She tries to pull away, but it's too late. I've already seen the abused skin she tries to hide. There's blood under her nails, too.

I lean in and whisper against the shell of her ear, "What the hell are you doing?"

"None of your business."

I clench my jaw, straightening up. Camryn stares straight ahead at the coffin decorated with more flowers than the local florist stocks. It even smells of lilies in here—a faint urine scent.

"Everything about you is my business," I sneer near her ear. "Don't make me punish you."

She whips her head around and glares at me. "Our friend is dead, Dominic. Can you be serious for once?"

Fucking brat.

It takes everything in me not to clamp my hand over her mouth in public to stop her lips from moving. When she spits daggers at me with her eyes like she is now, I want nothing more than to choke the life out of her until she's so fucking aroused, there's a wet patch on the pew. Now that would show that fucking god of hers, or devil, who she really worships.

"You've been pushing me away this week," I whisper, ignoring the death glare a middle-aged balding man throws over his shoulder. Fuck him.

Camryn continues staring straight ahead, her jaw set in a firm line.

"I don't fucking like it."

"Tough shit," she snarls, finally giving me her damning eyes.

Her mom squeezes her hand on her other side, and I reluctantly drop this conversation for now. My knee jiggles. I stare at the back of Aron's head. We haven't seen much of him this week, but it doesn't matter. I still don't want him anywhere near Camryn.

Given a chance, he'd be in her panties in a heartbeat, no questions asked. He's like a puppy with a bone in her presence.

Seated beside him, Gwen looks over her shoulder and smiles at me weakly, tears glistening in her eyes as she glances at her friend.

Camryn leaves the pew, and I storm after her when she makes a beeline for the bathrooms.

The closer I get, the faster she walks until she's almost running. She darts inside the bathroom and tries to slam the door shut, but I wedge a foot in the gap.

"Get out," she hisses, ramming her shoulder against the surface.

"I don't fucking think so." I shove it open, forcing her back, and then close it behind me. She flinches at the sound of the lock, but I'm done with the avoidance game we've been playing.

"What's up with your arm, Camryn? And don't fucking lie to me."

"Nothing is up with my arm."

I grab her chin with my full palm, making her hiss. "What the fuck is wrong with your arm? Why have you scratched it so badly it bleeds?"

"It itches, okay?"

I don't care for the defiance in her voice. Not one bit. I snarl, forcing her up against the wall. Her chin might bruise from my death grip, but neither of us cares. She's too busy burning me to ash with her glare, and I'm too hard to think straight when she's this feisty. If she's not careful, I'll fuck that look out of her eyes.

"Itches, huh?" I push up against her, pressing myself against her stomach. "Has this got something to do with the mysterious insect bite you got a few months back?"

She pales, clamping her lips shut.

"If something is happening to you, I need you to tell me. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"You want to help?" she asks, managing to sound so defiant with her chin engulfed by my big hand, which looks grotesque against her translucent skin. "Stay away from me."

Her response takes me aback. "What the fuck do you mean?"

She jerks free of my grip, her eyes teary when she looks at me again. "Three people are dead because of me. Three." She averts her gaze, and my chest squeezes. I try to catch her eyes again, coaxing her to look at me with a gentler touch as I trace her jawline.

"It's not your fault they're dead."

She says nothing, flicking her sorrow-filled eyes between mine.

"Dammit, Camryn." I cup her cheek. "None of this is your fault."

"Yes, it is."

I don't like how her voice trembles or how the tears in her eyes threaten to fall.

"I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to you. I shouldn't even be here today. I'm putting everyone at risk."

I open my mouth to speak, but slam it shut again, blowing out a frustrated sigh. Her tears finally fall, and I swipe them away with my thumbs, then trace her quivering bottom lip. "Don't shut me out again."

"I'm doing it to keep you safe," she says, escaping past me.

I hang my head as she leaves the bathroom. What will it take to get her to stop being so stubborn?

Chasing after her, I catch up just as she enters the main hall. I grab her arm, shove her up against the back of a large pillar, and place my hand over her mouth to keep her fucking quiet. I doubt she'd scream in front of the congregation and cause a scene at her friend's funeral, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

"I'm not a patient man. If you push me away again, I don't know what the hell I'll do, but I know one thing. Care to hazard a guess?"

Her wide, glassy eyes watch me as I grab her throat with my free hand.

"I know I'll never let you go, so do us both a favor and get that fucking idea out of your head."

Her pulse thunders beneath my fingers, the tears finally spilling over.

I lean in close to her ear. "Have I ever told you how pretty you are when you cry? How it makes me want to devour you? To hurt you more." With one final look behind the pillar to ensure no one is watching, I release her throat and snake my hand beneath her skirt.

My fingers slide up her thigh as I track every flickering emotion in her big eyes. The moment I graze up against her soaked panties, her lashes flutter.

"Such a filthy girl," I taunt, pushing the lace aside and tracing her slit in a featherlight touch. "Your dead friend is in that coffin." I tut, knowing far well she gets off on the guilt. "You shouldn't like this so much."

When I sink two fingers inside her, she grips my suit jacket in a bid to push me away, but twists the expensive material instead.

I hum, finger-fucking her slowly to the background sound of a hymn being sung. "Do you see that to our left?"

She follows my line of sight when I jerk my head in the direction of the large statue near the wall. "What do you think Mother Mary has to say, seeing you cream all over your brother's fingers in church?"

Camryn moans beneath my palm, and I tighten my grip on her mouth, but there's nothing I can do to hide the wet sounds coming from her pussy.

"Your cunt missed me," I say, nibbling on her earlobe. "Missed my fingers and my cock."

The first hymn gives way to a second song. Dropping to my knees, I dive beneath her skirt to erase all lingering thoughts of all the reasons why she should keep her distance. She should know better than to think she can keep my pussy away from me.

I throw her leg on my shoulder and drive my tongue into her, fucking her tight little hole while Mother Mary watches on from the shadows. Camryn rolls her hips, all notion of wanting me to stay away gone out of the window now that she's so close to coming with her cunt clamping down on my tongue. I pull out to suck on her soaked pussy, then home in on her swollen clit. That little sensitive bud drives me fucking insane. Licking and nibbling, I flick my tongue until she falls apart, riding my face like a greedy slut.

She somehow manages to stay silent, and I discover why when I pop out from beneath her skirt and find her with both hands pressed over her mouth.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and her pale cheeks are flushed. I love my effect on her.

Before the blush has a chance to retreat, I guide her forward, making no move to wipe her cum from my face. If anything, I wear the evidence of her orgasm with pride. Yes, ladies and gents, I ate her cunt while you all sang about Jesus.

Camryn keeps her head down, almost sprinting to her seat. Aron doesn't hide his contempt when his eyes clash with mine. With a smirk, I slide in behind Camryn on the pew.

Kicking my feet out in front of me, my arm rests behind my girl, and I raise an eyebrow at Aron, who huffs a breath and faces forward.

Asshole.

I brush my lips up against Camryn's ear. "Next time you try to shut me out or keep your distance, I'll fuck you right here on the pew for everyone to see."

The wake afterward is held at Brittany's house, an old Victorian with a wrap-around porch, a perfectly manicured lawn, and flowering gardenias. Only the closest have been invited. It's a small affair, which is why Camryn hasn't bolted yet.

Seated around the circular dining table, one of four scattered around the spacious living room, she picks at her food with a faraway look.

Blood seeps from the tender steak as I slice it in half with the knife. No one speaks.

At least not until Lily says, "All the windows are closed."

"The AC is on," Gwen points out, her green hair gathered in a ponytail.

"This is so fucking stupid," Aron mutters, stabbing a piece of minted potato. He shoves it in his mouth and speaks around a mouthful. "We leave the house every day. The demon could attack us at any moment, and you guys worry about the damn windows being left open?"

Beside him, Lily hides behind the long strands of her hair. I hate to admit that he has a point. We're not safe anywhere.

"And what the fuck was that back there?" Aron asks, directing his question at me. "You can't leave her alone for five minutes, huh?"

I shrug as I pick up the sharp, bloodied knife and pretend to inspect the blade.

A bead of crimson trails down the flat end as I look over at him. "My girl was sad. I cheered her up."

"Cheered her up?" he hisses, his cheeks flaming. "You fucked her in church during our friend's funeral. How fucking disrespectful can you be?"

"Are you done with your tirade?" I tilt the blade in his direction. "Correction. I didn't fuck her. I ate her out. There's quite a difference."

"You fucking—" He shoots to his feet, but Lily puts her hand on his arm.

"Please calm down. This is what it wants."

When Aron peers at her hand on his elbow, she says, "What it feeds on. Please… We're here for Brittany."

Shrugging her off, he reluctantly sits back down, picks up his fork, and stabs at another piece of potato. He doesn't look at me again, which is for the best. If he wants a fight, I'll gladly give him one.

I stretch my arm out on the back of Camryn's seat and toy with the strands of her hair, ignoring her hard stare. I know I'm being a dick. Do I care? Not particularly. The only thing of importance is to keep her safe.

And mine.

If another man challenges me, he will feel my wrath. So what if Camryn doesn't like it? Tough. She'll get over it.

My eyes stray across the room, taking in Brittany's family members littered around the tables. Her mom talks to an elderly lady in a wheelchair, who must be the grandmother. They all share the same high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes.

A different figure catches my attention, and I pause. Her chin is lifted high, not a hair astray in her severe bun.

She looks formidable, her hands clasped in front of her black dress with its high lace collar and white apron. I look around my table, but no one else is paying attention to the woman—the same woman from my nightmares and Wilfred's house.

She disappears around the corner. I excuse myself from the table, ignoring Camryn's questioning look as I weave between tables on my way out. An urgency I can't explain takes hold of me.

I tumble into the hall, cursing under my breath when there's no sign of her. But then, just as I'm about to turn back around and rejoin Camryn, a voice whispers from inside one of the rooms. The door is ajar, the hinges squeaking as it opens farther.

Walking closer, my dress shoes sink into the expensive rug. I look behind me, but no one is there. I'm alone.

"Dominic…"

My steps slow. Warning bells blare.

"Dominic…" The whisper comes again, enticing me closer.

I move forward, my heart pounding. I know deep down I need to turn around, but my body is in a trance. I can't look away from the gap in the door.

Eyes peer back at me.

Eyes that disappear farther into the darkness as I near.

My skin crawls and chills slither down my spine. I reach my hand out to open the door, when Camryn appears in front of me, and I slow to a sudden stop.

She shuts the door. "What are you doing out here?"

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog that still has its claws in me. "I-I need the bathroom."

"Well, you won't find it in the basement." She looks at me weirdly, then takes my hand and steers me away from the whispering voice.

My neck prickles with awareness, and I look over my shoulder to see the handle slowly turn.

Dread seals my throat.

Whatever that thing is…

It's coming for us.