Chapter 19

The sun is still low in the sky when I wake, alone and in my own bed. Despite the ache between my thighs, part of me is still convinced that last night still must have been a dream.

A fever dream. A weird, horny, wild dream.

There's a strange heaviness in my chest. It takes me a while to place the sensation – disappointment. An odd sort of hollowness. Loneliness even. Closing my eyes again, I ignore the ache. I so desperately wanted it to be real.

The next time my eyes crack open, the sun is in full force, shining in through the open drapes and warming the room to uncomfortable temperatures. I'm clammy and sticky, and as soon as I draw awareness to it, I'm itching all over.

I need a shower.

In the bathroom, I'm once again disappointed that my cheeky stone gargoyle isn't outside the window, peering in and trying to perv on me. Mal. It was definitely Mal outside the window.

I push those feelings aside.

As the warm water cascades over me, washing away the remnants of sleep and confusion, I try to piece together the fragments of last night. The steam from the shower clouds my thoughts, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. I close my eyes and let the water soothe me, but there's a nagging feeling at the back of my mind.

Was it really all just a dream? I don't think my imagination is that good.

The memory of their touch lingers on my skin, a phantom sensation that both comforts and torments me.

I can almost hear their voices in the gentle patter of the water against the tiles. Did I really lose my virginity to a gentle monster, while another fucked him and a third held me?

Stepping out of the shower, I wrap myself in a towel before quickly dressing and heading downstairs, a sense of curiosity driving me forward. Danvers has already given me my medicine tonight, and as I glance out the window I notice his car is missing from the driveway.

This is the perfect opportunity to explore, and all I can think about is how there must be answers somewhere in this house – it's just knowing where to look.

I reach the ground floor, pausing to take a moment to scan my surroundings. Will this huge crumbling manor house ever be home? I've felt more at ease here in the last few days, exploring with a clearer head, feeling more myself, than I ever have.

But to call it a home…it still feels wrong.

The air always feels heavy with anticipation, as if the walls themselves are holding their breath, waiting to reveal their secrets. The dark shadowy corners and closed off rooms taunt me, warning me while also begging for my attention. With each step I take, the truth of last night swirls around me like a thick fog, elusive and just out of reach.

I should probably eat. Sax would want me to eat, wouldn't he?

Deciding he would – if he were real – I head to the kitchen, smiling when I find containers of soup portioned up in the fridge for me. This feels like something Jas would do, a way to show he cares, I think, as I take one out and reheat it on the stove. I pour myself a glass of orange juice and sit down to eat my lunch in front of another vase of fresh wildflowers.

No, not a vase.

A glass.

How strange that these flowers have been placed in a drinking glass. Where has the cut-crystal vase from before gone? Did someone or something break it?

Shaking my head, I decide to let some mysteries lie, and eat my food. When I'm done, I wash up and go in search of answers once more.

It feels like it takes hours of wandering the dusty corridors, opening creaky doors to peer into abandoned, neglected rooms, until I find something worthwhile that I hadn't yet stumbled on in my previous explorations.

A library.

It's another stale, forgotten space tucked away in a corner of the house. Sunlight filters through the stained glass windows, casting colourful patterns on the walls lined with shelves of ancient books. The air is thick with the scent of old paper and leather bindings, and a sense of reverence washes over me as I step further into the room. I love it here. Maybe even more than the solarium.

I run my fingers over the spines of the books, feeling the ridges and imperfections beneath my touch. There's a sense of history, a weight of knowledge waiting to be discovered. As I move deeper into the library, no particular book catches my eye. They all seem to call out to me, the muted jewelled tones of the cloth-bound covers adorned with simple foiled titles in gold, all equally beautiful and enticing.

I don't know where to start. The urge to just grab the nearest tome and sink into a chair and while away the day is overwhelming, but I came here with a purpose. To gather information. I want to know more about the house. Its history. The tower I dreamed of last night which seemed cut off from the rest of the house. I want to know more about the grotesques and gargoyles, to discover why those three can move but the others don't seem to.

After a while browsing the shelves, a particular book catches my eye. Its cover is just as weathered and faded as the others, but with intricate designs etched into the leather. Carefully, I pull it from its place, blowing off a layer of dust that had settled on top of it.

Opening the book reveals pages filled with elegant script, detailing the history of the house. This is it. This is exactly what I was hoping to find.

I sink into an armchair by the window, completely absorbed in the words that seem to dance off the page, the truth unfolding like a delicate flower blooming in the darkness, revealing secrets long buried and forgotten.

It details the Clifton family, mysterious occurrences, and whispered secrets that have been passed down through time. Parts of the book read like a diary, whereas others have a more formal tone. Every few chapters or so the handwriting changes, leading me to think this book has been passed down through the family and added to by each generation that has resided here.

But what truly captures my attention are the mentions of the tower – the one from my very, very raunchy dreams.

According to the book, the entrance to the tower was damaged in a fire – blocking off all access to it. That wing of the house burnt down and the tower should have gone up in flames too, but for some reason it remained standing.

Throughout the pages, many of the authors have their own theories on why the tower itself was never damaged, with many of the older entries leaning towards whisperings of magic and witchcraft, curses and the devil.

Apparently the architect who designed the manor originally added the grotesques and gargoyles to the design as protectors for the Clifton family. They were guardians tasked with keeping any malevolent beings at bay.

But as I delve deeper into the text, a sense of unease creeps over me. There are warnings scattered throughout the pages, tales of those who had dared to venture into the tower and never returned. Echoes of a dark presence lurking within its walls, waiting for unsuspecting souls to cross its threshold.

I shudder at the thought but can't shake the feeling that there is more to this story than mere superstition. The sound of a door slamming jars me from my thoughts, and the book slips off my lap with a thud.

"Found you," a deliciously dark voice rumbles. Mal stands by the door to the library, his huge bulging arms folded across his bare stone chest.

"M-Mal. How are you here?" I stammer, as everything I thought I knew about these monsters unravels. I thought they were a figment of my imagination but he's real. Very real. He's tangible and looking at me like he wants to swallow me up.

"Sun has finally set, little dove."

Frowning, I glance out of the window, surprised to discover he's right. It's almost dark outside now.

"We've all been looking for you. And I'm the lucky one who found you." The air around us crackles with tension as he stalks towards me, everything about the way that he moves screams predator. From the laser-focus in his eyes to the dangerous flicking of his tail, he moves with purpose, with one thing in his sights. Me.

"I think I should get a prize." A mischievous glint dances in Mal's eyes as he takes a step closer, his massive form dominating the small space of the library.

"Why were you looking for me?" I ask, getting to my feet. Mal's expression softens slightly at the question, as if he's pondering how much to reveal.

"You weren't in any of your usual spots." He pauses, looking around the room with an almost nostalgic expression on his face. "I've not been here in centuries…"

Centuries.

How old are these monsters?

"You weren't in your usual spot either," I blurt out.

Mal smirks. "Did you miss me, little hellion?"

"No," I lie. "But you missed me taking a shower."

"What a shame. We'll have to dirty you up again, so that I can watch next time…but that's not why I'm here. Jas has made you dinner again. Sax says you need to eat, build up your strength more."

So it was Jas who left the portioned out soup in the fridge.

"I've eaten," I tell him defensively.

He's still slowly stalking towards me, pausing every couple of paces or so, making my heart rate spike the closer he gets.

"That must have been hours ago, Ari." He shakes his head. "Maybe…"

"Maybe what?" I ask, holding my breath in anticipation at the gleam in his eye.

He cocks his head to the side, considering, and then shakes it.

"Nothing."

"Tell me!" I plead. I meant for it to come out as a demand, but my voice sounds all wrong. Breathless and light. Eager and full of anticipation.

"Maybe, if you can't remember to eat when we're not around to look out for you, maybe you need to be punished until you do remember, little hellion."

"Punished?" I manage to croak out. My heart races now. Punished? What sort of punishment would these creatures inflict? Is he joking or serious?

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the knot in my stomach that's equal parts trepidation and excitement.

Mal leans closer, his eyes seeming to gleam with amusement. "We could tie you up and leave you there until you remember," he suggests, his voice low and seductive.

Tied up? I wonder what he could be planning to do with me if that were the case. Does he mean to leave me there to starve or does he have some...other intentions?

"And if you don't, you'll be punished further," he continues.

"Would you be the one to punish me then?" I ask, a coil of excitement unfurling low in my belly at the thought of what that might entail.

He smirks, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Obviously."

"Well…" I smirk back at him. "I think that's a terrible idea. If you tie me up, how will I eat?"

Mal chuckles darkly, the sound echoing in the library. "We'll come feed you…something." He grabs his crotch and winks at me.

"I'll pass, thanks." I sneer, even as my mouth waters at the thought of tasting him on my tongue.

"Maybe a spanking will remind you instead," he suggests with a tilt of his head.

My thighs clench at the thought.

"Oh, you like that." His eyes lock onto mine, challenging me to deny the desire that is rapidly pooling between my legs. Mal's fingers brush against the edge of my dress, teasingly, as he whispers, "You're ours now, little dove. And we'll make sure you're well taken care of."

When did he close the distance between us?

His words send a delicious thrill through me and my body tenses, as if it is eagerly anticipating the pain and pleasure that Mal is offering.

He leans closer, his mouth hovering dangerously close to mine, and I know there is no way I can resist him. I want to succumb to the darkness that we share, letting him take control of my body and soul.

"Do it," I breathe, my voice a husky whisper.

Mal grins, a feral grin that sends heat licking through my veins like wildfire. He lifts me into his arms, positioning us to take a seat in the armchair I'd been occupying all afternoon. He keeps a tight hold of me as he situates me across his lap. Now that there's a very real possibility he's going to spank me, I'm having doubts.

"Didn't you say Jas was making dinner? Shouldn't we go?" I ask nervously, glancing at the door.

Mal chuckles deeply, the sounds rich and deep, as his fingers graze the curve of my hip. "Jas will wait, little one. We have time. Besides, I think it"ll be more fun for you to stay right here."

Something in his eyes – a mixture of desire and mischievousness – draws me in, and I find myself nodding in agreement.

"Alright," I whisper, more submissively than I intended.

He lifts my dress, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my thighs. A shiver races up my spine, and I can't help but let out a small gasp.

"You do realise that this is a punishment, right?" he asks, his voice low and husky. "If I decide to turn it into something else, there won't be any turning back."

I meet his gaze, my heart racing, and I nod slowly. "I understand."

His fingers trail along my inner thigh, sending a wave of desire coursing through me. "You do?" he asks, feigning disbelief. "Are you sure about that, Ari?"

I swallow hard, my breath coming in short gasps. "Yes...yes, I'm sure."

With one smooth motion, Mal lifts my dress, exposing my stomach and breasts as he discards the thin material to the floor. He drinks me in, his greedy gaze skimming over every inch of my exposed flesh, and I can"t help but marvel at his strength and control. He chuckles softly, brushing his fingers across my bare skin.

"You're beautiful, Ari," he murmurs, his voice a low growl that sends a thrill racing through me. "You remind me of a wild cat – fierce and untamed."

I blush, heat rising to my cheeks as his words wash over me. In that moment, I'm powerful, though I'd never normally agree with his description of me.

"But don't think this means I'm going to go easy on you." His eyes glint with mischief. "I'm going to spank you until you feel it in every part of your body."

I swallow, my heart pounding in my chest.

Mal's hand comes down hard on my right arse cheek, the impact sending waves of pain and pleasure coursing through my body.

My breath catches in my throat. It's not exactly what I expected, but I find myself yearning for more.

"Again," I beg, my voice shaky.

Mal grins, his eyes dark. He brings his hand down again, this time on my left cheek. The pain is worse than before, but the pleasure that follows is even more intense.

"Good girl," he says, his voice low and rough. "You're learning."

I nod, my eyes closing tightly as I anticipate his next move. I can feel his gaze on me, heated and intense, and I know that he's enjoying the sight of my body trembling beneath his touch.

He brings his hand down again, this time on the curve of my hip, and I cry out in shock and pleasure. The pain is almost unbearable, but I find myself wanting more. He spanks me harder and harder, each blow bringing a rush of sensation that sends my heart racing and my skin burning.

"You're getting better, Ari," he says, his voice low and full of lust. "But you're not quite there yet."

I hold back a gasp, both desire and need coursing through me. I know that I"m not going to escape this punishment unscathed, but I can"t help craving more.

He hits me again, harder than before, and I whimper. My body is on fire, the sensations making me feel both vulnerable and empowered.

"Please..." I beg, my voice barely above a whisper. "More."

Mal is only more than happy to oblige. He spanks me harder, his hand coming down with a force that leaves my skin burning. I cry out, overwhelmed, feeling like I'm on the edge of a precipice.

"You're almost there, Ari," he growls. "Just a little bit more."

I nod, tears streaming down my cheeks, my body trembling with want and fear – fear that he won't take me tumbling over the edge I'm so precariously teetering on. I know that this is the most intense contradiction of pleasure and pain I've ever experienced, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to come back from it. But I also know that I want it more than anything, and so I beg him for more.

Mal slaps me relentlessly until I can't take it anymore and yet, I still want more. My body is a mess, and my submission feels like the most powerful thing I've ever done. When he finally stops, I lie across his lap, panting and trembling. And wanting. Crying. I didn't come – and I desperately wanted to.

"You did well, little dove," he says, his voice hoarse from the intensity of the moment. "But I think we both know that wasn't just punishment."

I smile weakly, unable to deny the truth in his words. "No, it wasn't."

But it kind of was because he didn't let me go all the way…

He strokes my hair gently, his fingers brushing against my damp cheeks. It's surprisingly tender and not a move I'd expect from Mal.

Then again, maybe I'd misjudged him. He was gentle when he coached Jas last night, offering words of praise freely and he was patient with both of us.

"Thank you, for trusting me."

I swallow hard, my heart racing as I meet his gaze and nod.

"Well, then," I joke, my voice barely audible. "I suppose we should do this again sometime."

He smirks. "I like the sound of that, little dove."

With that, he pulls me into a deep, blistering kiss, and a wave of pleasure washes over me.

"Don't I owe you a prize for finding me first?"

"Later. Come," he says, standing and carefully putting me on my feet.

"I was going to," I grumble, making him roar with laughter as he retrieves my dress and helps me into it.

"I meant, come, let's go eat."