Chapter 10

Asoft breeze caresses my cheek, stirring me from my slumber. I blink groggily, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the canopy of trees surrounding me. Moonlight shines bright and bold through the shards of stained glass that remain, and it's breathtaking in its beauty.

As consciousness gradually returns, I become aware of a gentle weight on my chest and a sweet scent filling the air.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I sit up slowly, my senses coming alive with the awareness that something has changed. My fingers instinctively reach for the source of the weight on my chest, and I find myself smoothing down a delicate braid woven through my hair, adorned with tiny flowers that shimmer in the soft light.

Confusion mingles with wonder as I gaze at the intricate braid, my mind racing. Who could have braided my hair while I slept? And why?

It's beautiful.

A work of art in itself without the flowers decorating it. I run my fingers along the smooth strands of the braid, marvelling at the skill and care that must have gone into creating such a complex masterpiece. It must have taken the person hours. It's far more detailed than anything my mother ever managed, and yet, at the same time, I feel closer to her.

The delicate scent of the wildflowers mingles with the earthy aroma of the moss on which I made my bed, creating a curious combination that fills the air around me. As I continue to examine the design, a sense of awe washes over me. Whoever braided my hair did so with tenderness and care. But who would have done that for me?

Not him. Carver would sooner take shears to my hair than willingly plait it, and I can't see the groundsman doing this with his dirt-stained calloused hands. I shudder at the thought of either of them being so close, grooming me while I was out cold to the world.

But aside from the three of us, we're alone out here. Lost in thought, I rise to my feet and let the hefty braid fall down my back. My fingers move upwards and I realise that some of my hair has been woven gently around my head like a crown of sorts. Combined with the overly feminine dress, I'm beginning to feel more like a princess locked away by her evil step-father each day. Would mice start doing chores and making my food soon?

As the braid sways gently with my movement, I make my way towards the broken entrance of the chapel, my mind still spinning with questions and possibilities. The delicate scent of the wildflowers lingers like a comforting presence.

With each step into the ruins of the chapel, the light seems to shift. Shadows and thin shafts of moonlight dance around me, mixing with the faded hues of glass, casting strange patterns on the dusty floor.

For a moment, it's as if the chapel itself is alive, calling out to me, whispering secrets that only I can hear.

A sudden gust of wind sweeps through the crumbling ruins, sending the remains of the stained glass tinkling across the ground. I shield my eyes from the debris, as I strain to listen over the sound of my erratic heartbeat.

Could someone else be here with me, lurking in the darkness? Or is this a trick of the wind in a long forgotten place and the overactive imagination of an eighteen-year-old girl?

Putting aside the panic rising in my chest, I take a step back towards the trees. Towards the little cemetery with the gargoyle. Towards the path back to the manor. I need to find my way back, and then I'll be safe.

My foot catches on a stone and I stumble, but as I straighten, something out of the corner of my eye makes me freeze.

Wait.

Was that…

I hesitate. Take a deep breath. Shake my head.

No, that's crazy, Ari.

I push my irrational thoughts aside.

The stone statue…

No.

It must have been a trick of the light. The wind or something. Debris shifting. A dose of rationality is clearly needed here as my hands tremble, ever so slightly.

Fuck.

I try to calm my racing heart, but with each breath a sense of anticipation builds within me, swelling like a wave cresting until I'm drowning in my own paranoia.

Slowly, and on unsteady feet, I drudge back to the manor house in the dark. My skin burns, like tiny pinpricks as I brush against brambles and outstretched tree branches. Something is out there, watching me.

No.

Not just watching…

A twig snaps.

I'm not imagining things. Someone…or something is following me.

Each step echoes on the flagstones as I hurry along the path back. In the quiet of the dark, an icy sensation creeps up my spine.

The feeling of being watched intensifies and my stomach churns. I don't believe in ghosts or monsters, I tell myself firmly. They aren't real.

A palpable presence to my right sends shivers down my spine before fading into the blackness. Every rustle of leaves, every shadow dancing in the pale, fragmented moonlight, feels like a silent warning.

The nervousness spreads, and although I know I shouldn't, I glance over my shoulder. A fleeting shadow, a whisper of movement that vanishes as quickly as it appeared. My breath catches in my throat, and I lose my footing, falling to one knee, my pulse racing with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

Quickly, I push myself upright, ignoring the sting from where I've grazed the skin.

I'm not alone out here.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end but I push forward, driven by the desperate need to escape whatever is hunting me in the dark.

Monsters aren't real...

But as I race through the woods, the memory of the gargoyle haunts me like a nightmare. It moved. I'm certain of it.

The forest seems to close in around me, the trees cast long, twisted shadows that distort and shift with every gust of wind.

Monsters aren't real...

I'm not imagining things. Something is out here. The darkness seems to press in around me, suffocating me with its oppressive weight as what little light there is vanishes behind the thick canopy of trees.

Fear claws at my chest but I press forward, driven by the desperate hope of reaching safety before it's too late. I break out into a run, the sense of dread in the pit of my stomach only growing stronger, a cold knot of fear tightening until I think I might be sick.

Monsters aren't real, Ari. Think logically…

If monsters aren't real, then what the hell is chasing me through the woods? It moved – the statue. The gargoyle. The fucking monster.

I saw it. I felt it. I'm not crazy.

And now it's coming for me.

My heart pounds as I sprint through the underbrush, the rhythmic pounding of my footsteps echoing in my ears. The cool night air rushes past me, whipping strands of hair that have worked their way free the intricate braid across my face as I navigate the dense foliage.

I flounder over a fallen branch, falling to my knees, the rough twigs and dirt digging into my palms as I push myself back up.

Run, Ari.

Every muscle in my body screams for me to keep moving.

You can't stay here.

My brain is telling me I need to outrun the terror chasing me.

Run.

My body knows I'm still not strong enough for this.

You silly little fool, I scream to myself.

Glancing over my shoulder, I catch sight of two massive figures weaving through the trees, their ominous silhouettes casting long shadows in the moonlight.

When did another one get here?

I can't let myself be caught.

Somewhere in the back of my head, a little voice murmurs that this is the most alive I've felt in months. My legs burn with exertion as I push my body forward, driven by pure adrenaline and a primal instinct to survive.

The cool air on my skin, the damp, earthy smell surrounding me, the way the twigs snap and the leaves crunch under my heavy wellingtons – it's like my brain and body are finally waking up. My heart is beating a loud reminder.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

My lungs are tight as I fly through the woodlands and the trees start to thin out. In the distance the dim lights of the manor house flicker in what seems like a warning.

I lose one wellie in a boggy area, but I don't let that stop me. I can't. Deciding I'm quicker barefoot, I lose the other as soon as I can, throwing it in the direction of my pursuers.

The dense trees must be keeping them from flying, from spreading out their wings, and for the moment it's slowing them down. If I can just make it back to the house, I can…

What can I do?

How am I supposed to fight off two monsters?

Are they who braided my hair? Do monsters braid hair now? That thought makes me hesitate, but the pause costs me. I finally break through the treeline but barely cover any distance before a large hand pushes me hard, down into the mud.

I open my mouth to scream.

A firm grip pins me in place by my neck, pressing my face down into the grass. My dress is shoved up over my hips, exposing the white ruffled knickers I'd put on that morning.

The creature behind me makes a pained noise, then spanks my arse lightly.

"So pretty, little dove."

Thrashing out, I kick and squirm, trying to break free but it"s no use. It's like being pinned under rock. Something cool and sharp dips into my underwear.

"No!" I yell, trying to escape.

Using his knees, he pushes my legs apart before slotting between them. "Shhhhh, little one. I only want a taste."

Our little bird is busy trying to figure out how to unclip her wings, while I'm busy enjoying the view of her beneath me. The creamy skin of her long, bare legs, the innocent white pretty knickers, all that luscious long hair, beautifully braided.

Devine.

The hair must be Jas' handy work. He's taken care and time with it, weaving it around so that she has a silver crown threaded with flowers. It suits her, like she's royalty.

With one hand firmly on the back of the neck, I use the other to grab her hip and pull her so that she's more on her knees.

"So delicious," I murmur to myself, tracing my claws over her skin. Teasing her as I dip into her underwear in slow, lazy patterns. "So fucking ripe for the picking."

I wonder if I could sneak a taste? With a grunt, I thrust my cock over the crease of her arse, enjoying the way she turns to glare at me with fire in her eyes.

That's it, give me your rage.

I'll swallow it all. I'll devour everything you can throw my way.

A voice cuts through the evening air like a knife. "Malachite!"

With another lazy thrust, letting her feel all the ridges on my cock, I lean in, blanketing her body with mine. "Ahh fuck, here comes the fun killer. I guess playtime is over, princess."

"Don't. Call. Me. That," she growls, lifting her hips to thrust back at me. Hmmm, look at that. It seems that quiet, good little Arianwen might be a little naughtier than she thinks…

Her eyes widen, as she realises what she's done and pink blooms on her cheeks.

With my lips near her ear, my horns brushing against her hair, I tease, "You know, I like it more when you're feisty."

"Fuck you!"

Another thrust, harder this time.

"Mmmmm, that mouth. So dirty. Fuuuuck."

Pre-cum drips onto the ruffled fabric of her underwear. Christ. She's sinfully delicious, and I can't wait to strip her naked and bury myself in her tight cunt.

"Sax says the groundskeeper is on his way to the house." He perches in a nearby tree.

I sigh and lean back, loosening my grip. "What's the plan, Jas?"

"Get her into bed and wait for him to leave." Innocent soul that he is, he's completely oblivious to the double meaning of his words. Jas twists his tail in his hand, eyes darting to her arse anxiously. He actually wants her to like him.

I do plan to get her into bed, but I'm not picky, right here on the grass suits me just fine too. As long as she's impaled on my cock, the setting doesn't matter. I rut against her one final time, ignoring her protests. Pulling her up against my chest, I pin her to me with one hand on her throat, the other around her waist.

Flying to her bedroom is the fastest option and probably safest route to avoid being caught by the groundskeeper, but the poor thing just discovered monsters are real. Flying might break her fragile little mind.

"Let me go!" she cries, struggling under my grip. All it does is rub her pert little arse all over my ridged dick, and frankly, it's almost worth being caught by the delightful Mr Danvers just to have my way with her right now.

"Never," I promise on a growl, nipping at her earlobe and relishing the way she shivers under me.

"I-I'll scream," she threatens.

We both know she won't. We'd be out of sight before she could blink, and her ramblings of flying monsters chasing her through the woods would bring Carver home in an instant.

"The whole world thinks you're crazy, little dove. Go ahead, prove them right. Good luck avoiding your medication if you do though," I warn.

She goes limp in my arms and a soft whisper reaches my ears. "What do I do?"

"Run along. Go to bed like a good little girl." With a snarl, I release her, and she wastes no time scrambling to her feet. "I'll be seeing you later."

She doesn't look back as she takes off for the house, leaving me just long enough to take to the sky before the groundskeeper appears.

"That was close," Jas hisses, scowling at me from his branch.

"What?" I'm defensive, wound tight. I was so close to finally tasting her. Owning her. I hate interruptions.

"You scared her," he accuses, shooting me a reproachful look.

I shrug, thinking of the way she pushed back against me.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

She's tougher than she looks. Tougher than Sax, Jas and that fucker Carver give her credit for. She's a fighter.

She'll have to be, to handle the three of us.

Jas chuckles and jumps down from the tree, joining me. I know Sax has sent him to keep watch over me, afraid that I'll suddenly go feral and turn into a real monster.

Launching myself into the night air, I inhale deeply. Jas is right beside me as we fly back towards our tower.

It doesn't work like that, it's very much like magic that binds us to our stone forms. A vine. A chain, wrapped around my neck that gets tighter and tighter, until I can't breathe.

She makes it easier. Gives me something to hold on to.

Jas' wings occasionally brush against mine as we weave through the night air.

"Arianwen is strong. Stubborn. You should stop trying to spook her."

Jas' expression sours at my teasing. "You know that's not what happened."

I snort as we approach the tower windows, "So you didn't frighten her by braiding her hair while she slept before chasing her through the dark, creepy woods?"

If he could blush right now, he would. Instead, he bites down nervously on his bottom lip and looks away. Obsessed fool.