Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

I dream I'm in a room bathed in moonlight. The walls are lined with shadowy portraits, hanging in uneven rows. Each figure’s face is obscured and distorted, reflections in a rippling pond. In the center stands a grand staircase, just like the one inthe Everwood.

Liliana materializes on the bottom step. Her ghostly figure is translucent yet intensely real, her eyes filled with sorrow and desperation as they lock onto mine. “Please,” she whispers. Her voice is barely more than a breath, but it echoes through the silence. “Help me.”

“How?” I ask, my own voice trembling.

Her form shimmers, fading in and out like a candle flickering in the wind. I try to move toward her, but the room seems to constrict around me. The air grows heavy and cold, each breath I take like a gasp through ice. Liliana extends her hand, fingers quivering like delicate threads of gossamer, reaching out toward me. Just as she’s about to touch me, I jolt awake, my heart racing in my chest.

I’ve never had such a vivid dream before.

A soft scratching sound breaks the silence, coming from somewhere on the king-sized bed where I’m curled up among tangled sheets. A heavy arm is draped around my waist, a warm, solid body pressed against my back. Hayes.

I squint into the darkness. With only a sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, all I can see are odd-shaped silhouettes cast against the eggshell-colored walls.

“Hmm,” I groan softly. “It’s too early.”

Hayes doesn’t respond. His breathing is slow and steady. He must still be asleep. I sigh happily and nuzzle closer to him, savoring the warmth of his body against mine.

There it is again.

A faint rustling sound—like someone’s dragging their nails against a wall.

I listen for a moment, trying to figure out what it is—where it’s coming from. Slowly, I pull myself up into a sitting position, careful not to wake Hayes. The bedsheets slip off, and an icy chill bites into my bare skin, making me shiver.

The scratching abruptly stops, leaving the room in a heavy silence. Then, I hear it—a soft click, like a door gently closing. The sound has to be from either the closet or the bathroom.

I hold my breath, straining to hear anything else. If one of our friends is in here trying to scare Hayes, they’re about to get a naked Tori surprise.

Through the darkness I can make out the faint outlines of the door and the long narrow curtains covering the windows. Both the closet and bathroom doors are wide open. Could it have been the main door?

A putrid stench suddenly fills the air, so pungent and overpowering that it feels like it's clawing at my throat. It's the unmistakable smell of death—flesh rotting, decomposing, saturating the room with the reek of decay. I clamp my hand over my mouth and nose, fighting the urge to vomit as a deep sense of dread settles in the pit of my stomach.

A dark shadow slips over the bed.

I feel it then—tiny legs skittering up my arm. I slap at my skin in a frenzied panic, glimpsing a gigantic house centipede scuttling across my flesh. A shriek escapes me as I bolt upright, throwing the covers off. I stumble out of the bed, fumbling for the bedside lamp. My fingers finally find the switch, and a soft yellow glow floods the room. My heart races as I scan the room, but there’s nothing—no giant bug, no sign of anything or anyone that could have made those noises. Just Hayes, still asleep.

He slept through my scream?

I’m breathing in short, shallow gasps, trying to shake off the lingering sensation crawling over my skin. I rub my eyes, my mind racing. Hayes didn’t wake up. Did I actually scream? Did it even happen? “It must have been a nightmare,” I whisper to myself.

But I’m still skeeved out. I hate those bugs.

I sink back down onto the edge of the mattress on legs that turned to rubber. I shiver again, and I rub my arm, trying to erase the sensation of phantom legs crawling over my skin.

I lie back, pulling the sheets up to my chin, my eyes darting around the room one last time. I reach over and switch off the lamp, plunging the room back into darkness. My heart is still pounding in my chest, but I force my eyes shut, willing myself to go back to sleep. It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

But I can’t shake this feeling that something— someone maybe—is here watching me, hidden in the darkness.

I squeeze my eyes tighter. It’s all in my head.

The minutes stretch on, the silence in the room growing heavier, pressing down on me like a weight. My breaths are shallow, my pulse erratic.

Then, a new sound slices through the stillness—a low, guttural growl coming from the darkest corner of the room. I gasp, my breath catching in my throat. Terror floods my veins. Oh, my God. Oh, fuck . There is something in here with us.

My eyes snap open, but my body won’t move. It’s like my arms are pinned down, my fingers numb, my hands nonexistent. I want to scream, but no sound comes out. My mouth hangs open, useless. My mind is a blur of panicked thoughts, screaming at me to move, to run, RUN , GET AWAY. But my body refuses to obey.

The snarling grows raspier, more guttural, and then I hear it—a subtle shift in the darkness, something moving, crawling, reaching out as it creeps toward me on its hands and knees. Tears blur my vision as I lie there, paralyzed, helpless. I try to make sense of the shadowy shapes around me, dreading the moment I’ll see it—feel its cold, icy touch against my skin. I struggle to move, to scream, to wake Hayes, but all I can manage is a low wet gurgle that’s caught in the back of my throat.

It’s closer now, like the slow scraping of wet dead leaves along loose gravel. My breathing hitches, my lungs panting, not taking in enough air. Then, I feel it—two slimy, bony hands wrapping around my ankles at the foot of the bed. Another scream catches in my throat, choking me. The hands tighten their grip, their bone-chilling touch shooting waves of dread coursing through my body. I want to kick free, pull away, run, but all that my body does is blur my vision with tears. I can barely blink, my eyelids fluttering as I try to focus on what’s holding me.

I strain my eyes and see it—a faint outline at the end of the bed. I can feel its sharp fingers pressing into my skin, freezing me to the core. I blink again, and there she is—a woman, closer now, hovering over the bed. Her body is parallel to mine, drenched in dark red blood, her eyes cloudy and lifeless. Her skin is ghostly pale, almost translucent, with blue and red veins that spread like a roadmap beneath her flesh. Her mouth is open in a silent scream.

It’s…it’s Liliana.

“WHY WON’T YOU HELP ME?” she wails, her voice a haunting echo that reverberates through the room.

I blink again, and she’s gone.

I bolt upright, gasping for air, my eyes darting frantically around the room. The growling stopped. The woman is gone. But the terror remains, thick and suffocating. I reach out and shake Hayes awake, my hands trembling, desperate to tell him what just happened.

He stirs, eyes barely open. “Bad dream?” he asks, his voice groggy and distant.

I struggle to find the words to explain what I just experienced. “I just?—"

“You were tossing and turning,” Hayes says softly, his hand trailing gently down my arm. He pulls me closer, his warmth grounding me.

“I was asleep?” I ask, lying back down and turning to face him.

“Uh-huh.” His fingers glide over my stomach, tracing the curve of my breast.

“It felt so real,” I whisper, my chest still tight, my breath shaky. “Like I was awake and there was someone... something in here.” My ribcage feels battered and bruised. “She…it grabbed my ankles.”

His thumb circles over my nipple. Slow and feathery.

“Maybe we should put on a show for her…it.” His breath is hot on my skin, his fingers firmer in their pressure.

I angle my body closer to him, squinting at his eyes in the dark. “I’m serious. If that was a nightmare?—”

His mouth replaced his fingers. His tongue swirling, flicking. “I’ll just help you forget it.”

I can still see the woman’s face floating above me. Can still feel the impression of the icy touch on my skin.

“Lie back and spread your legs.”

It was just a horrible dream and this is reality. This gorgeous man I’ve known for years, that I’ve wanted for years, one of my oldest friends, wants to help me forget about my nightmare. With his tongue.

Sounds like a great plan.

I shift onto my back and open my legs wide.

He slides down to the bottom of the bed and grabs my ankles. I gasp aloud as he yanks me down the mattress until my bottom hits the edge. “Hmm… Breakfast,” he whispers.

Then his mouth is on me, that ridiculously fast tongue flicking madly on my clit. I take a long deep breath and let out a blissful sigh. “ Breakfast of champions .”

“Mmmm. It’s magically delicious ,” he says, as his warm breath fans against my skin.

He glides his hands, strong and forceful, over the back of my thighs, pressing my knees into my chest, pinning me in position. His lips consume me, sucking hard, overwhelming my nerves, and bringing me quickly to the edge. Pleasure coils tight in my clit and warmth spreads through my core.

“My God, you’re really good at this, Hayes,” I pant. I’m so close, right there on the sharp thin edge ready to tumble over and explode, and it’s only been a handful of seconds. My entire body is vibrating.

His lips release my clit with a wet smack. I moan in desperation. “Hayes,” I groan.

“Put your arms under your knees,” he says, fixing his gaze on mine. His face is just above my pussy, his expression full of lust.

I puff out a quick breath, nod my head, and hug my knees to my breasts.

He lowers his face down, but his eyes are still locked on mine. “I’m going to make this pussy squirt.”

I stare at him, heart pounding in my chest, anticipation and fear mixing in a heady cocktail. Squirt? Did he really just say that? But the look in his eyes tells me that he meant it. I felt a shiver of excitement run down my spine. I can feel the moisture pooling between my legs. Hayes grins wickedly.

He slowly inhales, eyes never leaving mine. My breath hitches as he delivers his first glorious lick, starting from my clit and tracing down my swollen lips. My hips buck involuntarily, and he leans in closer, his hands gripping my thighs to prevent me from moving.

His tongue begins to flick, teasing me mercilessly as he traces the line of my folds, dipping inside me and then pulling back out just as I think he's going to dip deeper. This torturous pattern continues, driving me to the brink.

Hayes doesn't disappoint. He plunges his tongue deep inside me, fucking me with steadily increasing intensity. I’m panting now, so close to the edge. My orgasm is building, and I need it. Desperately.

"Fuck, yes," I whimper. “Don’t stop.” All thought of nightmares gone.

Hayes doesn't let up. He brings in his hand, pressing two thick fingers inside me. My breath hitches in my throat, and I can't help but let out a low, needy whimper. He begins moving his fingers in a steady rhythmic motion, harder and harder, faster and faster along the top of my vaginal wall. Pressure builds, coiling and tightening. Heat blooms out from my clit, spreading through my pussy until I can't hold back any longer. I squeeze my legs hard to my chest from the intensity. I’m whimpering and muttering nonsensical words like I’m speaking in tongues.

“Hayes, oh fuck, yes,” I suddenly cry out as the orgasm hits me like a tidal wave. My entire body trembles, as my pussy begins convulsing around his fingers, and then it happens—a wave of intense release gushes out and washes out over his fingers as I scream his name.

He watches me with a smirk, his fingers slipping out of me, dripping with my release. “I like making you scream my name,” he says, sounding pleased with himself.

I can hardly catch my breath, but my body falls limp quickly, relaxed and tension-free.

He pulls himself up next to me on the bed and brings the two fingers he just used on me to my lips. “Open that pretty mouth,” he says, low.

I part my lips, and he slips his fingers past them.

“Suck,” he commands.

I do as he says, the salty taste of my orgasm filling my senses. He watches me with a satisfied grin.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he murmurs, slowly pulling his fingers from my mouth.

Hmmm. I like praise.

He angles his body closer to mine. His hard cock pressing against my outer thigh. “Now, what were you saying about a nightmare?”

I laugh and nuzzle my face next to his. He captures my lips in a kiss. It’s slow and deep. His tongue warm and delicious. “I’m not done with you yet,” he says against my mouth.

His hand slides up my thigh, across my stomach, a light, gentle caress. He’s the master of going from hard to soft; I’ve never felt a man do that to such perfection before. He cups my breast, firm, then gentle. Leans down, licks my nipple. Then slaps it hard and sucks it into his mouth.

Fucking hell, I’m fully aroused again.

He flicks his tongue over the sensitive skin and rocks himself against my leg.

I reach down and wrap my hand around his dick and squeeze.

He rakes his teeth against my skin.

I stroke him slow, from root to tip. Each time his hips thrust with the motion.

I lower my head to go down on him, but he pushes my hands up above my head and straddles me.

“I want your cock in my mouth,” I say.

“Hmmm, I want my cock in that beautiful pussy,” he says, as he traces his tongue along the length of my neck. “I want you walking funny tomorrow. Want Jonathan to ask you why.”

My body stills under him and our eyes meet. “And what should I tell him?”

“That this is my pussy now,” he says, as he presses the tip of his cock between my thighs.

His knees are on both sides of my body, clamping my thighs closed, so as he’s pushing in, his cock slides against my clit. The sensation is pure unadulterated bliss.

He thrusts deep, burying himself inside me, until his balls press against the front of my legs. I moan in pleasure, and he follows along.

He leans up on his hands and works his hips like a piston, increasing his speed and drive. Each stroke rubs against my clit. Rigorous hard fucking.

I wrap my arms around him, scratching at his back as my pleasure mounts.

Hayes lifts his head to stare into my eyes. He slows his thrusts, grinding his hips each time he drives into me, stimulating that small tight bundle of nerves.

“Come on, Tori, you can give me one more,” he says between each deep push. “Come on my cock again.”

“Don’t stop, Hayes. I’m almost there,” I cry.

“Fuck, baby. You take my cock so well.”

“Oh God, Hayes. I’m so close.”

He slows down more. Grinding harder. “Yeah? You want to come?”

“Please, Hayes. Don’t stop,” I growl.

He rails into me, forcefully. Pumping hard. Fast.

“ Yes. Yes. Yes . Fill me up, Hayes. Fill me with your cum.” I’m climaxing before I finish the sentence. I cry out his name over and over, and he rides me through my orgasm. His hands fist into the bedsheets and he fucks me harder. I rock back and forth to meet his thrusts, my orgasm still singing through my body.

He grunts out my name and his body goes rigid. I feel his cock pulsating inside me, filling me with slippery warmth.

I’m consumed with pure bliss, too drained to move.

He kisses my neck and slides out of me. My thighs are slick with his cum.

I can get used to this kind of man .

“I should leave soon, get some clothes,” I say. I definitely need to shower.

“Okay,” he mumbles, yawning. “I’m going to try and get a little more sleep.” I don’t know how he’s comfortable in that wet mess, but within seconds his breathing slows, and he’s out cold again.

I slip out of the bed and tiptoe to the window, grabbing a handful of tissues to clean myself. It doesn’t help much—I’m in desperate need of a shower. Somewhere a clock chimes the hour. Six low gongs. I part the heavy curtains and look out across the great back lawn and the tilted rise of the Ferris wheel jutting up through the trees. The sky is a peculiar shade of purple. I’d call it bruised. It has a deep sorrowful look to it, dark, dreadful.

I pull up on the window to let some fresh air in. It reeks of sex in here. A strong, crisp wind rushes in, carrying the scent of pine and the sharpness of fall. I take a deep breath, try to clear my head.

Then, something moves across the open stretch of the lawn. Solid black and very fast.

“Some sort of animal,” I murmur, shutting the window quickly and yanking the curtains closed. But it was too tall and thin to be an animal. Too fast to be human.

Either I’m losing my goddamn mind, or…

Maybe this place is rigged to scare the guests. Tessa did say the brochure promised it was the number one Halloween destination.

My shoulders relax. God, I feel like a fool. Of course. That must be it.

Relief floods through me, zinging with a bit of excitement. I’m curious to see what else they have in store, to hear what the others have experienced. I kind of hope Marissa gets the crap scared out of her. I’d pay good money for a hidden camera to catch her in a full-on scream shot, mid-shriek, mascara running, maybe even a little snot bubbling out of her nose. Something I can frame and cherish forever.

I slip quietly out of Hayes’s room, closing the door gently behind me. As soon as the latch clicks into place, a putrid smell assaults my senses, making my stomach turn. It’s not as strong as it was in my nightmare, just a ghost of that stench now, and just as quick as it came, it dissipates.

I turn around, and my heart nearly stops. Jonathan is standing in front of his door across the hall, a cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes lock onto mine with a look that says he knows exactly whose room I’m sneaking out of and what I was doing all night. The mix of hurt and accusation in his gaze is almost as nauseating as the smell was, and I feel my cheeks flush with shame.

I try to muster up a nonchalant smile and a casual wave, but my hand feels heavy and awkward in the air. Jonathan’s stare cuts right through me, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. I quickly look away, focusing on a loose thread on the carpet beneath my feet.

"Morning," I manage to mumble, attempting to sidestep past him without any further interaction. But Jonathan doesn't move an inch, his presence blocking the hallway like an immovable boulder.

"Up all night, huh?" His voice is low, laced with bitterness.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” I snap back.

“Congratulations for being yet another notch on Hayes’s belt,” he retorts, his words sharp and cutting.

Before I can gather my thoughts enough to form a coherent response, Jonathan steps aside, his gaze dark and unreadable. My heart sinks with the realization that any friendship we once shared is one hundred percent irreparably damaged. I want to scream at him: You made this happen. You chose someone else over me. Don’t be pissed at me when I move on with my life.

As I hurry past him, the tension between us hangs heavy in the air like a storm cloud waiting to burst. Oh my God, I am walking funny. My legs feel like rubber, the ache between thempleasantly sore. But I can't shake the feeling of Jonathan’s eyes burning into my back as I make my way down the hallway, each step echoing loudly in the oppressive silence that has settled over us.

I reach my door and pause, hesitating for a moment before glancing back over my shoulder.

But he’s no longer there, and I’m all alone in the hallway.