Chapter 14

T here's just something about a morgue that has you questioning how the hell you ended up there. Oh yeah, that's right—to raise a freaking dead body and have a chat. Totally normal; no worries. There's no need to be scared. Just go inside the creepy room where they cut up bodies and store them in cold cubbies until they're ready to be buried six feet under. No problem; I got this.

I don't get this.

I stood outside the swinging double doors in the basement of the city morgue. The autopsy technician had taken his sweet time cleaning up, so I had to wait an hour before he left in a sudden hurry, his white lab coat billowing behind him as he ran towards the elevator.

With a deep breath, I pushed the steel doors open and stepped inside, not knowing what to expect. I took a moment to adjust to the low fluorescent lights and how cold it was. It felt like an ice box. Like a typical morgue, the floors were cement with blue specks embedded inside, and the walls were white cinder blocks that made the room seem bigger and colder.

Three embalming tables were lined up in a row, sitting in the middle of the space, with individual headlamps overhead, glaring off the shiny metal surfaces. Every few seconds, I could hear a drip of water splashing on the ground from the exposed pipes above. One must have been leaking. This was definitely the right place to store a body that wasn't too juicy.

Ew, I can't believe I just thought that. ‘Juicy' is just as bad as the word ‘moist.'

I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill and scanned the room, spotting the selection of cubby drawers where the bodies lay to be preserved. It smelled of formaldehyde, bleach, and the weak stink of death, reminding me of damp soil after a storm. It wasn't the worst smell, but then again, I was a necromancer, so maybe an iron stomach just came with the job?

I was about to find out. I crept closer on silent feet, almost scared to breathe, terrified of both getting caught and what I was about to do. It was generally frowned upon to wake the dead. I kept picturing a mob with pitchforks coming after me. But I had to figure this out before I hurt anyone living.

I slowly reached out and grasped the cool metal handle, pulling it wide open just as a cold fog rolled out of the square hole. I so badly wanted to squeeze my eyes shut as I grabbed the metal tray with the dead body lying on top, but my eyes were glued to him as I slid him all the way out of the cubby.

It wasn't so bad. He was still preserved and hadn't started decaying, thanks to the temperature and chemicals. He only looked like he was sleeping, his eyes resting peacefully against his pale, sickly skin. Deep purple circles were around his eyes, and his lips were the same color. Maybe if I kept pretending he was napping, it would be easier. Thanks to the great pumpkin, a white sheet covered his body from the neck down. I shivered in dread at the thought of discovering a death wound. I didn't care what the stupid book said to do; I wasn't probing any holes to find out how they died. If I could bring the dead back to life, then they could tell me themselves.

It was time to get to work. I grabbed my Necromancy 101 book and flipped it open to the page I'd been reading earlier. So, you place your hand over the body, hovering just over the heart or head, and say a few lines. Easy peasy. Doing just that, I cleared my throat and started to read.

"Spirits of the afterlife, come to me! Hear my voice call for you; come to me! Arise, spirit, arise!" I said it in the deepest, most commanding voice that I could muster and waited for something to happen.

My shoulders sagged when the body remained frozen in place, like I was expecting sparks or something magical to happen. Absolutely nothing.

"Okay, October, you got this. You're a strong, badass woman who can do this without breaking a sweat!" I chanted to myself, bouncing in place on the balls of my feet as I cracked my neck back and forth.

I ain't scared of anything! I've got this! Necromancy powers, activate!

Channeling my inner Jessica made my confidence skyrocket, until the moment I felt someone breathing down the back of my neck. I spun around so fast that my fist accidentally collided with something hard, and the person let out a surprised, painful grunt. I was totally about to kick some booty when Michael's ocean eyes clashed with mine as he held a hand to his crotch and wheezed in pain.

"OMG! Michael, you fucking scared me, you creeper! Oh shit, your balls! Are you okay?" I was practically shouting in his pain-filled face as I shoved his hand away from the front of his jeans and ran my fingers over him, massaging a bit, as if somehow I could make the pain go away.

We both froze when my fingertips skimmed over his cock. It was rising to the occasion suddenly. I realized at that moment that I was groping him like some pervy perv. I mean, it was an accident, but still.

"This is nice and all, but fuck, October, let go so my balls can breathe," he choked out, putting a small bit of distance between us when I let go of him.

We stood there awkwardly. I wasn't quite sure where to look until I realized he was here at the morgue with me when I told no one where I was heading.

"Are you stalking me?" I raised a suspicious brow at him and secretly kind of liked the thought of him following me. It was sexy in a creepy, stalkery way, but also kind of hot.

Jesus, I'm messed up in the head for getting horny in the morgue.

"What? No. I tried a tracking spell." He trailed off like he was hiding something as he glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck.

"And?" I cocked my hip out and glared up at him, sore balls be damned.

"I only needed a small piece of something of yours, and I really like those cute ass hugging panties of yours. You know the light blue—"

I smacked my hand over his mouth, and he grinned behind my palm, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Okay, that's enough out of you. If you wanted to see my panties that bad, all you had to do was ask." I smiled coyly, edging my fingers down to the hem of my skirt and slowly dragging it up on my thigh.

I let my palm fall away as he said wickedly, "October, can I please see your panties?" He couldn't look away from the skin I was exposing. and I was feeling bold. Besides, he asked so kindly.

I pretended to seriously consider it for a second, and his blue eyes lit up with hope.

"No." I giggled as I let go of my skirt.

He started pouting like a big man, baby. "Tease," he muttered. "So what brings you to this lovely establishment? Besides, you know, the dead guy we're standing next to." He gestured to the body behind me and leaned casually against the cool metal box on his left.

I allowed myself a second to really look him over. I'd say this life agrees with him. He looked good—like really good. His eyes were blue like the ocean, nearly a midnight color in the center, like a sunrise tide on a beach. His emotions tended to play across his face these days, with veins of black creeping around his eyes, giving away his feelings.

"Raising the dead and all that jazz," I said, trying to be nonchalant. "If I'm going to prove I have this handled and I'm not a bad person or that I can live in peace without having to run from this town like my dad did, then I need to do it." I fiddled with the book in my hands, unable to make eye contact.

"I've always thought you were amazing, little goth." He raised my chin with his finger, so I had no choice but to look at him. "What do you need from me?"

What did I need? I needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay, that I'd never be alone again, and that they wouldn't leave me.

"Why are you being... well, not a douche canoe to me?"

He stared at me hard for a long minute, his head tilted to the side, as if he were trying to figure me out. He opened his mouth to tell me, but we heard a door close with a bang outside the morgue door .

"Shit! I can't be caught in here! They'll think I'm trying to raise an army!" I frantically searched for a hiding spot as the sound of footsteps could be heard clicking on the tiled floor outside the door.

"Quick! Get in here. Don't worry, I'll be with you the whole time in this dark, closed box." I glared at his grin.

He snapped open a cooling box, his biceps flexing when he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing. I crawled inside, my breathing already picking up in panic at the small space and the thought of getting caught. I probably flashed some panties along the way, since my ass was practically in his face.

He quickly slid in after me with ease, covering my body head to toe with his own, and grasped the metal door, closing it with only a small crack to keep it open. Enclosed in the dark, I gripped his waist as he held himself over me on his elbows, his minty breath fanning my face. Me and dark, enclosed spaces didn't do so well.

"Well, this is cozy. Come here often?" His teeth gleamed white in the shadows as a smile stretched his smooth, wide lips. He started playing with my hair in a soothing manner that somewhat eased the scream's desire to crawl its way up my throat.

"Not really, but you never answered my question. Why now?" I whispered softly, loving and yet hating the feel of him over me and having the chance to skim my fingers along the hard ridges of his eight pack.

Suddenly, with a snap of his fingers and a " quia ignis " under his breath, a single flame appeared from the pad of his index finger. He grinned smugly at my upturned face. I didn't know he could do that. He must have been practicing every night.

"Who are you, October?" he asked softly. " And think really hard about your answer." He waited patiently as I tried several times to think of anything intelligent to say to that. We were getting off topic, but I felt like he had a point to make.

We had to whisper because of the mystery person on the other side making a racket—metal banging on metal. I wondered how long we'd have to hang in the death box.

Don't think about what's all been in here, or you're going to freak the fuck out.

"I'm just a girl who doesn't know what the heck I'm doing half the time," I answered truthfully, and I watched in confusion as he shook his head, his upper lip curling as he leaned down towards my face.

"You're wrong," he whispered tightly. "I watched you push everyone out of your life after your parents died. I watched every single day as you fell further and further apart, becoming an empty shell. How do you bring someone back who doesn't want any help dealing with their own pain?" he asked. I blinked at him as he said, "You make them live. You get them angry enough that they wake up every morning with the need to prove everyone wrong. You're a survivor of horrible pain, October, and you're the girl that's finally trying to live again." He glided his fingertips over the bridge of my nose and down the slope until he reached my lips, tracing them with a small grin and tugging at his wide lips.

I maneuvered to repeatedly smack his chest in suppressed anger. "Yeah, I heard about your dumbass plan from Jason, and now I'm mad all over again. How could you put me through that shit after everything?" In the small box, my love taps barely registered.

Tears gathered in my eyes as I stopped beating him up, and I weakly rested the palm of my hand over his fast-beat heart. "Thank you for taking care of me when I couldn't do it myself," I rasped out, admitting that I wouldn't be here if they hadn't made my life a living hell. "I hadn't realized it was that bad."

"Anytime, little goth, but don't fucking do that to us again. It killed me to see you like that. And I held onto my own anger for a while too, when I had to hear about you going behind our backs. I hated having to hear it from their mouths and not yours."

He pushed the door open, surprising me, and wrapped his arm around my waist with his palm spread out over my lower back. He slid out with me plastered to his body and hopped us down gracefully for a man his height. I looked around but realized the danger of getting caught had passed because the assistant was gone again. Must be on a lunch break? Who the fuck cared, because my heart was about to bust out of my chest as sweat coated my palms?

"I-I couldn't choose. I wanted you all." I walked over to the clean, shiny metal table and picked up a bonesaw because I couldn't look him in the face without feeling guilt.

A shiver cascaded down my spine when he gathered my hair and swiped it to the side as he placed his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I felt heat instead of cold, love instead of hatred, and I hoped the feeling would last.

"Wanted or still do?" His lips glided over my neck, barely touching but still causing goosebumps to prickle over my skin in delight.

"Always want. There hasn't been a day when I haven't wanted all of you guys," I confessed, dreading that he would push me away in disgust and call me a whore.

"Can I keep you, Tobs?" He skimmed his soft lips over the shell of my ear as he whispered the question I'd longed for. "Can I finally make you mine? I'll always share with my brothers, and I'll never doubt what's in here." He placed his hand over my rapidly beating heart and just stood there, holding me, rocking us back and forth.

"Keep me? Michael, you had me the very second you shyly introduced yourself and asked if I wanted some of your ice cream. I'll always be yours, even if you hate me. Even if I'll never, ever share my favorite ice cream." I leaned my head back against his shoulder and looked up at his handsome face.

His eyes were closed as his chest rose and fell rapidly against my back. His lips slid into a slow, wicked smile before he opened his darkening eyes to stare down at my upturned face.

"The things that you do to me are the things I want to do to you. You should run away before it's too late," he whispered against my temple, his soft lips trailing down until his cheek was placed along mine.

Was it possible for one's heart to punch its way out of the chest cavity and fly into the palm of the person who got it racing in the first place? Our breathing was the only thing filling up the silent yet peaceful space. I shifted my gaze down as I watched his long fingers skim along the exposed skin between my corset and skirt.

"Show me!" I groaned. "Show me how bad you want me. Show me every single bad thing you want to do to me." My voice came out raspy, begging him to give me all the dark and dirty thoughts he'd always hidden behind those ocean eyes.

He groaned as if in agony, tightening his now clawed, inky fingertips into my skin enough to leave bruises. He slowly dragged those magical hands up the silk material of my corset until his fingers trailed over the racing pulse in my neck for a beat, just before wrapping his hand around my throat to angle my face towards his.

"You don't know what you're asking for, little goth, but I'll be happy to show you." He didn't wait for my reply. Smooth lips smashed against mine in a kiss that was possessive, hard, and demanding, forcing me to open up under the pressure.

I most definitely met his silent command, opening my mouth with a whimper as his tongue snaked in with a leisurely caress against mine. I met his stroke for stroke, and it was messy and dirty, and I loved every second of it. His grip tightened around my throat to angle my head better, then his hand loosened and trailed unhurriedly along my hairline to the back of my neck, his fingers weaving in my hair until he gripped a fistful to control my every movement.

Who knew that the guys were hiding the need to give and give some more behind those stony masks for a whole year? I would have been way down with the dicking, but I guessed it wasn't the time then.

"Bend over," he commanded roughly, and I swear my pussy pulsed with that demand, practically begging him to fuck me good and hard.

He added pressure to my neck, pushing me down until my breasts were pressed against the cold surface of the metal table, stealing my breath away as he felt past my silk corset and pebbled my nipples almost painfully.

"Right here?" I asked in a husky voice full of need, bracing my hands on the table with my fingers spread wide.

"Right here, October. I'm going to spank you until your ass is sore and your pussy is weeping just for me. You'll be feeling me for days," he threatened, his voice hard and gentle at the same time.

Michael slid his other hand down my back until he was grasping the back of my thigh, then he trailed his talented fingers up higher and flipped my skirt over my hips. He still held onto my neck with one hand, so I couldn't move as my cheek lay on the table, my breath fogging the metal with each excited pant. I spread my legs wider, bracing myself and arching my spine, because I needed to feel his touch and the heat that came along with each punishing smack.

"Don't move," he ordered, waiting for my fast nod before letting go of my neck and grasping both of my ass cheeks with another groan.

He gripped my ass before letting go to finger my thong, pulling the material and causing it to rub against my clit before snapping it in place, stinging my skin. His fingers lightly ran over my pussy lips through the thong, feeling how soaking wet I already was for him. The cool air brushed over my asscheeks when he removed his hands, until suddenly, his palm came down in a hard slap that made me gasp at the burning sensation. The blood rushed to the heated spot, and I could feel my arousal starting to drip down my thighs.

"Again," I pleaded breathlessly, gripping the table for dear life as I stood on my tippy toes with my ass sticking up. I loved the way he hissed out a breath after discovering how much I needed this.

I'd take all the darkness he had inside him. I'd take the good too, but I'd get on my hands and knees for that wicked side of him to come out and play with me. He promised I wouldn't be able to sit for a week, and I believed him as he landed smack after smack on my ass, leaving my butt pulsing with the beat of my heart and swelling tenderly under his touch.

I begged him to bring me the creature I craved, and he delivered. He paused, breathing heavily at my back as he ran his hand over the red prints in a soothing way, before quickly grabbing me by the waist and flipping me over until my butt were resting on the cold table. I cried out from the shock of it—the sting like tiny little needles—until it faded into a pleasurable pulse.

"Place your feet on the ledge and spread your legs," he said, his deep voice hard as he stared down at me. His eyes were changing, a galaxy of stars flashing in his gaze.

I rested my feet on the edge of the table and opened my legs under his attentive gaze as he pushed my thighs wider until the stretch was a dull burn. He didn't say anything as he unbuckled his belt, snapping the leather through the loops and handing it over to me. I stared down at it in confusion before meeting his gaze again and seeing the wicked, sinister plan he had for me.

He pulled his pants low, halfway down his muscular thighs, with his thick cock bobbing between us and making my eyes widen with doubt. I realized he'd been commando in his pants the whole time, but what held my attention was the fact that the thing between his legs was a fucking monster cock. Thick, not as long as Jason and Norman's, maybe eight inches, but really fucking thick, with veins wrapping around the smooth skin that looked hard as steel.

"It'll fit, little goth; now put the belt in your mouth, bite down hard, and don't let go," he said with a lopsided grin, nodding to the belt as I stared at it in confusion.

"Why?" It didn't make sense; why did I need the belt in my mouth? I could think of so many other uses for it.

"So no one can hear you screaming." He chuckled darkly, the inky veins around his eyes spreading like a spiderweb as he helped place the sleek leather between my lips, watching me stare up at him.

He leaned forward to sweetly kiss my forehead, lingering before drawing back as he bit his bottom lip, then glanced down to see how damp my panties were. He leisurely skimmed the pad of his thumb over my slit through the material, drawing a tight-lipped moan from me.

Michael grasped my panties in a tight fist and snapped them completely off me with a single pull, then brought them up to his nose with a deep inhale. My eyes widened, and he grinned wickedly as he reached over his head to pull his shirt off. You know, the move that makes girls go stupid as muscles flex and shift?

Without warning, he brought the palm of his hand down onto my pussy in fast, repeated smacks that left me crying out in pleasure, biting down on the belt with my hips bucking off the table. His hand came away soaking wet when he stopped, and he brought it up to his mouth to lick his fingers clean as he watched me.

"Fuck," he said with a rough groan, stepping forward to trail smooth lips down the edge of my jawline to nibble along my throat.

He roughly pushed off, ripping his mouth away with a snarl, then lunged forward between my spread legs, plunging his thick cock deeply inside me without warning. My screams were muffled by his belt. My head fell back against the cold table, feeling every thick inch of him jerking inside of me. He didn't give me time to adjust before he pulled back and slammed inside again, our bodies slapping roughly together.

Sometimes, I needed the pain as a wake-up call that I was still here, and he was giving me that wake-up call. His thrusts wouldn't slow. He fucked me long and hard with smooth, wet, well-timed movements that echoed around the room each time he pulled away, only to plunge back in roughly.

The bonesaw fell to the floor with a clatter, alongside the scalpel and other morbid tools, as the table shook with his deep, fast thrusts. He grabbed my hip with one clawed hand, the nails only slightly digging in to leave crescent moon shapes, while his other hand gripped the back of my neck again, dragging my head down until I could see every inch of him fucking into me. Sliding in and out smoothly, his cock disappearing inside of me had to be the hottest thing I'd ever seen. That was until he slid out covered in my juices.

"Fucking hell, look at you creaming all over my cock," he breathed.

My eyes squeezed tight as I felt my lower stomach clench, the pressure building until I was unable to stop grinding against him each time he pounded into me. I didn't think the belt was doing a good job of keeping me quiet because he quickly wound his clawed fingers in my hair and pulled my head up, tossing the belt aside so he could kiss me as I came in with hard, blissful pulses around his cock.

He broke the kiss as I was still coming around him, my legs violently shaking as he pounded into me quick and hard before grinding his pelvis along my clit. Then he was coming inside me in thick ropes of cum. He ground his teeth while his neck muscles strained as he eventually slowed down, breathing heavily and placing his forehead against mine, his minty breath fanning my face.

"Can we do that again?" I panted, loving his throaty chuckle as he stepped out from between my legs, grasping my cheeks with both hands and placing a lingering, sweet kiss on my lips.

A girl could get used to this. Who knew morgue sex was a thing? I just went with it and could honestly say it was amazing. Ten out of ten would repeat again and again.

"How about we head back to the manor so I can find out what else we've been missing this past year?" he suggested, a dark promise in his voice as he bent down and grabbed his shirt off the floor.

I thought he would put it back on, but he used it to clean between my legs, making me jump in shock and stare up at him flabbergasted as he winked, tossing the shirt away in the bin. I hopped down from the table with a wince, already feeling the ghost of him between my legs, and tried to hide my pleased giggle by biting down on my lip.

He pulled his jeans up, chuckling as he looped his belt through, and I declared it was my favorite belt. He should wear it all the time, no matter what, just in case of a ‘ need to have sex right away' type of emergency. I smoothed down my skirt, glancing around and beneath the table for my underwear, only to see him holding them out of my reach as he pocketed them with a shrug.

"Just in case I have to do a tracking spell again. It comes in handy to have a pair ready." He grinned devilishly, leaning into my touch as I skimmed my hand down his cheekbone, standing on my toes to kiss him one last time before leaving.

"Right, that's all it's for. Let's go home; I miss everyone. Time to hang out with the living instead of the dead."

I grabbed his hand and turned towards the doors, but suddenly, the lights flickered off and the emergency lights turned on, filling the room with an eerie red light. Michael wrapped an arm around me when a loud bang echoed in the silence, his head whipping back and forth as he tried to pinpoint the noise.

"What is that?" I asked shakily, scratching my arm frantically as it itched more and more until it felt like tiny ants were crawling all over me.

"Do you feel that?" Michael let go of me and went cautiously to the metal boxes, skimming his hand over them as he walked alongside them.

He stopped at the cubby with the John Doe we'd opened earlier, cocking his head to the side, eyebrows scrunched together. I jumped when another bang sounded through the sterile room and couldn't stop itching my arm as my body shook from a wave of chills. My breath was fogging the air all of a sudden, and I watched Michael glance at me with a nod towards the cubby.

He waited until I reached his side, grasping his bicep as he leaned to the right and placed his ear against the metal with his eyes closed. The metal door shook as another bang happened on the other side, and he quickly drew back as it sounded like someone was pounding on the door, until it just stopped suddenly.

"Open it," I told him with sickening dread, smearing dots of blood on my arm as I scratched, until Michael laid a hand over mine to stop me.

It was eerily quiet, and I was shaking like a leaf as he opened the drawer, pulling out the metal bed in the process. The dead body looked the same as before, like he was sleeping peacefully, but for some reason, it felt off. The air seemed stale, and there was a chill that I couldn't shake off. Something unnatural was lurking around John Doe, and it had me leaning closer.

I screamed as the man's eyes popped open, and I was suddenly staring into an empty, dark abyss that looked like it would never, ever end. His chest didn't move. He wasn't breathing at all, but somehow he was here, staring at me. I stumbled back a step, my hand over my mouth to hold in my scream.

"October, stop. Send him back." Michael grabbed my waist and backed us away as the dead body sat up, the white sheet pooling around his waist. Then he turned his head towards us, his bones cracking together from rigor mortis.

"This isn't me! I'm not doing this!" I cried out, beyond terrified, as the dead man opened his mouth, tearing the stitching inside his lips. He let out a long, drawn-out, pained moan that stopped me in my tracks, with Michael panting behind me.

"He's coming… So close… Always watching and always waiting. He's coming for you," the dead male said in a haunting voice, so croaked and broken after not speaking in a long while. It was hollow, as if he were empty.

Michael stepped in front of me and ran a black clawed finger over the snake tattoo on his torso, chanting a spell under his breath, " Et serpens imperium... "

I peered around him, bracing my hand on his tight back, and felt his body twitch as his snake tattoo started slithering out of his skin. Its head slid down Michael's torso as the rest of its body detached itself from his skin. The snake hissed as it zigzagged towards the dead guy, slithering up the sides of the metal death box and making its way to the corpse, wrapping around his neck with wisps of black smoke coming off the snake's long tail.

"Who sent you?" Michael spoke in a voice that sounded far away, his gaze not once looking away from the corpse jerking on the metal slab like it was having a seizure.

"He's been watching you, October Grimm. He's always watching. Right behind you," John Doe said, his voice pitching low with a croak that turned into a bone-chilling moan, growing louder as his mouth gaped open wide. Then he slumped on the slab and lay still as death under Michael and Albert's power.

I spun around, feeling like someone was watching us, and only came up with an empty morgue .

"Michael, can we go now? He's gone… I felt him leave. I just need to get the hell out of here." I shivered violently, rubbing my arms to gather some warmth as I watched the body lie completely still. Then I quickly shoved him back inside the drawer with a relieved breath.

"Let's get the fuck out of here; the guys will want to know about this. I have a bad feeling this is connected to your attack. Come, Albert."

Michael wrapped me under his arm and walked out the swinging door with me tucked close to his warm skin, looking left and right. Albert followed along behind us on the ground, watching our backs. I was glad he decided to leave him out as we walked home. I just couldn't shake off the suspicion we weren't alone, and I knew the feeling I was having was the same one I had a year ago on Halloween night.