32. Camryn
THIRTY-TWO
CAMRYN
Dominic stares at me from across the breakfast table.
His eyes, usually a shade of hazel, now seem to hold a sinister edge I can't quite decipher. It's not the color, but the enigma that lies behind it.
Dressed in combat shorts and a black T-shirt, he plays with his Zippo, lighting and flicking it shut again while a smirk reveals the killer dimples in his cheeks.
I try not to be affected by the intense way he traps me, but something about his demeanor has me on edge.
Scalding coffee splashes against the sides as Mom fills her mug. The sound seems heightened in the tense silence, but as always, she remains oblivious.
"I'm sorry that I'm away so much. It's temporary until they hire more staff." She frowns. "Where's Bruno this morning?"
"I haven't seen him," I reply.
Mom hums, but she's distracted. "I'll have a look for him after breakfast."
Rain spatters against the windows as thunder rolls in the distance, but it's all background noise to me. Mom sips her coffee while I take a bite out of my buttered piece of toast. Dry crumbs stick to my lips, so I wipe them off. Dominic flicks the Zippo again, and another flame flares to life. I lower my gaze to it, swallowing down the chewed-up bread. My throat dries up when I stare at the unmoving flame. Not even a flicker or tremble.
Dominic's smirk deepens and he shuts the lid with a quick flick, almost too fast to notice. Another loud rumble of thunder crackles outside when our eyes lock.
Mom talks about work, before she seems to notice the silence and looks between us.
Her eyebrows raise in question. "Is everything alright?"
I shoot up, tossing the uneaten toast onto the plate. "I need to get ready for class."
When I hurry past Dominic, his head turns over his shoulder. It's not obvious enough that my mom notices, but I sure as hell feel his gaze on me. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones.
"Camryn?" Mom calls out, and I pause in the doorway. "I'm heading to work. There's food in the freezer for later."
Walking back over to the table, I lean down to kiss Mom on the cheek, ignoring Dominic.
"I promise we'll catch up soon," she says, but I'm not listening, my veins running cold as I pick up the unread, folded-up newspaper beside her plate.
A picture of Wilfred is plastered on the front, but it's the image beside his—a much smaller, grainy black-and-white photograph—that has me trembling.
Excusing myself, I hurry upstairs to my room, where I unplug my phone from the charger.
Gwen answers on the fourth ring. "I'm relieved that you called. I was convinced your possessive boyfriend tied you to the bed or something?—"
"Did you read this morning's paper?" I ask, interrupting her, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I sit down on the bed.
"What are you talking about?"
I splay the page open, the paper crinkling. "The front-page news."
I hear a door open. Gwen covers the phone with her hand to speak to her dad and then returns to the line. "Okay, I stole my dad's copy." The stairs creak beneath her weight as she returns to her room and shuts the door. Paper rustles while I wait, staring at the grainy photograph.
Those eyes…
"That's fucking creepy." Her haunted voice sounds far away. I pinch the bridge of my nose, wincing, struck by a sudden headache.
Gwen reads, "The body of a missing woman, believed to be Francesca Flores, a 24-year-old sex worker, who was reported missing in August 2023 by concerned friends after she failed to return home, was discovered after police attended Wilfred Miller's farm on Wednesday night for a welfare check."
"Eight more bodies have been discovered on the property. The story is still unfolding."
I frown, staring at the blurring words.
"Camryn? Are you there?"
"I'm here," I reply, studying the grainy images. "Gwen…"
"Yeah?"
"His latest victim…" I try to steady my voice. "It says he kept her decomposing body in the attic for months."A shiver skitters down my spine, and I tighten my grip on the phone. "Gwen…I saw the curtains moving that day when Dominic carried me out."
"Maybe it was your imagination?"
"Maybe," I agree, rubbing warmth back into my arm. It's suddenly very cold. "It's not like I saw a ghost."
But even as I say it, the smiling girl on the cover stares back at me with her big eyes and curly brown hair. I'm forced to look away.
Rising from the bed, I approach the window seat and gaze at the forest. Rainwater races down the glass, distorting the view. "Have you spoken to Aron today?"
"Want me to ring him?"
"Yes," I answer, watching a shadow shift behind the fir trees. "Make sure he's okay."
I hang up, then lower my phone without taking my eyes off the swaying branches where I last saw the shifting shadow. I can hear them from here—the whispering trees.
It's a struggle to tear my gaze away, but I somehow turn my back to the window and the forest with its secrets, a sharp pain stabbing my skull, like a pickaxe.
It taps, taps, taps.
I press my palms into my eyeballs. "Fuck…"
"Camryn…"
Fear travels throughout my body before I can stop it, and I lower my hands, slowly looking over my shoulder. The forest seems darker and vaster, its shadows thicker. The branches have stopped swaying, and stillness has settled. Rain patters against the glass, but the sound is muted. I exist in a vacuum—a silent void.
Struck with an inexplicable urge to run, I dash for the door and fling it open, only to find Dominic blocking the exit with his intimidating build and dark eyes.
I stumble back, and he leans his forearm on the frame, crossing his socked foot over his ankle.
"Going somewhere, little sister?"
I blow out a relieved breath. "You scared me."
His response is a raised eyebrow.
I try my hardest to ignore the insistent whispers, but they won't shut up.
"Camryn."
"Camryn."
"CAMRYN!"
Falling onto the bed, I scramble back on the flowery comforter in my panic, my heart pounding as I look from the large window then back to Dominic. His intense expression never falters, not even when a loud bang cracks the glass. I whip my head to the window, and a gasp falls from my lips. Blood…so much fucking blood. And inky feathers.
"You're pale," he drawls.
I look away from the broken glass when he pushes off the doorframe and enters my space. The door clicks shut, making me flinch. Slow, deliberate steps bring him closer to me, and I tremble on the bed like the leaves on the branches outside. I've never feared Dominic before, not like this. There's something in the seductive sway of his shoulders as he swipes his thumb over his bottom lip, watching me like prey, as though he's sizing up his meal. And not in a good way. Something is off.
When his eyes fall to my bare thighs in my jeans skirt, an insistent throb starts up between my legs, and he pauses to sniff the air.
His darkening gaze settles on me.
I flit my eyes past him to the door, but before I even know what I'm doing, my thighs rub together.
"Fear turns you on," he says, tilting his head to the side and studying me like a rare specimen. "Interesting." His nose lifts and he smells the air again, an inhuman growl reverberating somewhere deep in his chest. "Very interesting."
"Dominic? What was that?" I ask, looking back at the blood on the cracked window.
He approaches me and climbs onto the bed, then crawls over me and blankets my body with his hulking, muscly frame. Fear curls around my spine, but I can't seem to look away from his eyes.
Leaning on his elbow, he grips my chin hard enough to elicit a whimper. While Dominic has always been rough, this is different. His dominant touch has icy awareness prickling my neck. The instinct to recoil and escape from beneath him mixes with the heady desire to stay right where I am—at his mercy.
He bears down and rolls his hips against me as he lowers his lips to my ear. Mine part when his heated breath fans my skin. With a chuckle, he slides his hand from my chin to my throat. "Let me in," he whispers, squeezing tight, and liquid desire shoots straight to my core.
When our eyes meet, my mouth opens in a silent scream. His are completely black. The color swirls like ink pools—two dark voids leading directly to the fiery pits of Hell.
He leans down to trail his nose over my cheek and neck, then breathes me in. "Let me in."
I gasp for air while clawing at his wrist. This isn't Dominic. My vision blackens, but he doesn't let up on my throat. Panic sets in. Through my struggle, my pussy begs to be filled. To be fucked hard. It's a heady concoction of messed up.
The monster lifts his head and cocks it, studying me closely before he shifts off me and tosses me to the floor in a move far too quick to catch with the human eye. I crash into the bookshelf, knocking the wind from my lungs. Pain sears through my body, and I struggle to breathe as he climbs off the bed and cracks his neck.
He flexes his hands at his sides and crouches before me, his fingers coming away slick with blood when he strokes my hair away from my tender forehead. I whimper, cradling my injured midriff. The intense ache makes it difficult to focus on him as he grips my chin. His eyes are hard and cold and nothing like Dominic's.
Fueled by rage, I spit at him. "Give me Dominic back, you fucking coward!"
He swipes the saliva away and drags his wet fingers down my face, over the swell of my lips. "You love him."
I bare my teeth like a savage, grimacing in pain. Every inhale is a struggle. I wince as I lean back against the bookshelf, coughs hacking through my chest. I should have known it was only a matter of time before the demon would go after Dominic or my mom. I gaze at him as the seconds tick by, my ribs on fire. "What do you want? Why don't you just kill me?"
"Kill you," he drawls, the sound trailing over my skin like a succulent promise. He cups my chin and swipes his thumb over my bottom lip before leaning in to nuzzle the side of my face like a lover. He hums softly, his hand sliding to the back of my neck as he brings his lips to my ear. "I want to taste you."
My breath lodges in my throat. With his black eyes locked on mine, his grip tightens on the back of my neck. "Let me in."
It's hard to stare into those dark pits without being consumed by dread. He embodies terror. It's in his touch.
"Dominic," I choke out as tears fill my eyes. "I know you're in there. You have to fight."
The monster laughs, dropping me as he rises to his feet. Exhaustion washes over me as I slump back, and he brings his hand inches away from my face. I stare at his devastating face before my eyes drop to his fingers.
Fingers I've felt inside me.
"Have you ever known the meaning of true pain? It doesn't take much to drive a human to suicide." With a clench of his big hand, my head explodes in agony. I clutch my skull as a hoarse scream shreds my lungs.
Just as fast, he relaxes his fist. The pain ends, but my skull continues to throb. He steps forward to trail his fingers through my matted, sweaty hair. "You're the most exquisite thing I've seen in centuries."
I slap his hand away, but he pulls my hair hard enough to make me cry out, then lifts me off the ground, forcing me to my knees. "Such foreplay." As he fists his free hand, a scream ripples through me. My head feels like it's being cleaved in two. His knuckles turn white as I thrash in his grip. Seconds pass, maybe even minutes.
When he finally opens his palm, the pain recedes like a wave washing back out to sea, and I collapse to the floor, sobbing.
He crouches down and grabs my chin. "Let's try it again, shall we."
I recoil when he leans close to my ear, but it only makes him tighten his grip on my chin. His stubble brushes up against the side of my face, and his tongue darts out for a taste. He whispers against my damp skin, "Let me in."
I squeeze my eyes shut, sensing a probing at my skull, an odd sensation that can't be explained. It's instinctual to push back.
An inhuman growl reverberates through his chest seconds before he throws me across the room again. But this time, as I roll across the floor, I launch to my feet and run for the door.
I stumble into the hallway and crash against the opposite wall, pain ricocheting through my shoulder, but there's no time to succumb. I hobble down the hall, swiping at the blood on my face. A glance behind me is all it takes to break into a run. The monster is striding down the hall with murder in his black eyes.
When I reach the stairs, I almost lose my balance and go flying. It's only by some miracle that I make it to the bottom floor in one piece.
I'm limping toward the front door, a sob rattling my chest when I hear him roar my name in a distorted voice at the top of the steps. I reach for the handle, only to realize the door is locked. I turn the lock, but it still won't open. It doesn't matter how much I yank or pull. It won't budge.
Panic seizes me in its merciless grip. I'm frozen, staring at the closed door, when I hear him behind me.
"I can smell your fear in the air, human."
Think, Camryn. Fucking think.
Movement in my periphery catches my attention, and I look in time to see the mystery man with the axe enter the kitchen.
"I can smell how scared you are. And how aroused your little cunt is."
I dash for the kitchen, darting inside and shutting the door just as he slams into it on the other side.
"Fuck!" With all my strength, I shove it back, but my feet slide out from beneath me when he pushes down on the handle and bears his weight against it.
"You can't escape me." His voice comes out like an animalistic growl. "You will let me inside you."
"In your fucking dreams," I snap, darting my gaze around the room for something to use to defend myself.
I pause when I spot the axe inside a circle of white on the floor. I don't question it as I sprint forward to grab the weapon.
The door crashes open against the wall, and the monster enters with a triumphant smile. But it falls when he spots me inside the circle.
"Witchcraft…" His menacing voice is a low snarl.
I grip the axe as he approaches.
"What are you going to do with that?" he asks, amused. "If you use it, you'll hurt that precious boyfriend of yours."
"He can live without an arm or two." I'm bluffing, and the creature knows it too. I could never hurt Dominic.
He laughs, amused for a moment, before his attention lands on the ring of powder. "Who taught you about salt?"
Confused, I look down.
Salt?
He circles me, hissing at the salt, his eyes as black as the night. Frustration bleeds from his pores when he snarls at me. I never take my eyes off him. Not even for a second. The relentless throb in my head intensifies, and I struggle not to stumble. Shaking my head, I blink.
"Witch," he spits, darting forward with inhuman speed, a blur of movement, before jumping back again. He hisses like a serpent, and my heart surges to my throat. He steps as close as the markings on the floor will allow and speaks in tongues, making me tremble as I clutch the axe like a lifeline.
My heels brush against the salt when I inch back.
With a final snarl, the ink recedes from his eyes, and Dominic collapses to the floor. He's out cold, but I don't dare exit the circle.
I choke on a sob as I step up to the salt. What if he's bluffing? What if he opens his eyes and kills me the moment I leave the protective ring? Is that what it is? What if he's gone and returns?
I look down to see my toes touching the salt. Who put it on the floor? Who painted this circle? Where did it come from? I trace the intricately carved symbol on the axe's handle.
Groaning on the floor, Dominic's eyes flutter open, and when he looks at me, all my fears fly out the window. I rush to his side, dropping the axe and helping him to sit. "I'm so fucking sorry."
Dominic leans back against the fridge. "You're bleeding. You're hurt." He straightens up and cups my cheeks. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I couldn't stop it. I tried, but?—"
"Shhh." I want to sob with relief as I stroke his stubbly cheeks. "It's okay." I kiss him, whispering, "It's not your fault."