Chapter Fourteen

For a brief moment, his words lingered, enveloping me like the warmth of his body. But then, reality struck—sharp and sudden—leaving me breathless and trembling. The Creeper's warmth still clung to me, his dark eyes fixed on mine, but it couldn't hold back the guilt flooding in. My thoughts drifted to Katie, her unconscious body lying somewhere in this nightmare. How could I be here, tangled in this, while she was out there, helpless? Guilt came in waves, each one heavier than the last.

I turned to him. "Please... don't hurt her," I whispered.

He cocked his head, watching me with that unreadable gaze. He seemed to be processing my words, a deep, guttural growl following that twisted my insides. Fear clenched my stomach, but I had to try.

"You haven't eaten her. You don't know her. She's... she's good. She's kind," I pleaded, my voice cracking with desperation. "Please, let her go."

His eyes narrowed, his lips parting as if tasting the air between us, weighing my words.

"It's not in my nature to let go," he growled, the words laced with a dark, unshakable certainty.

A shiver ran down my spine. My mind raced, trying to make sense of him. "What... what are you?" The question slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

He grinned, slow and deliberate. "What do you think I am?"

My breath caught in my throat. I didn't have an answer—not one that made sense, not one I dared to say out loud. Whatever this thing was, he wasn't just a monster. Not anymore.

The Creeper stood and offered his hand. I stared at it, heart pounding in my chest. Wrapping the sheet tighter around myself, I hesitated before taking it. His grip was firm, pulling me to my feet with ease.

He led me through the mansion, down into the basement where Katie and I had barely ventured. The door loomed ahead—the one we'd fled from in terror. The Creeper reached for it, the old wood creaking as it swung open.

The stench hit me first—sharp and metallic, wrapping around me. Every breath tasted of death, thick and foul, clinging to my lungs like poison. The floor felt slick beneath my feet, cold and soaked with things I didn't want to name. Bones crunched under me, small and brittle, like they had been there for years. Overhead, the light flickered weakly, casting shadows that twisted with every movement..

Skulls, ribs, mangled limbs hung from rusted chains like grotesque decorations. Flesh still clung to some of the bones, dried and decaying, while others were fresh—too fresh, with bloodstains still slick on the floor. Scattered around were bits of clothing and personal items, remnants of lives lost here.

My stomach churned, threatening to empty itself. I forced down the nausea, my hands trembling, my breath catching in my throat. Every inch of the room seemed to scream with the ghosts of the dead.

The Creeper stood beside me, silent, watching. His dark eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. There was something there, something unsettling. Not quite regret, not quite shame, but something close enough to tighten my chest.

"This is what I am," he said, his voice gravelly, almost drowned by the hum of the light.

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to run. "Why?" I whispered, the question trembling in the air. "Why do you do this? Why them?"

He tilted his head, wings shifting as he stepped closer. His claws brushed one of the skulls lightly, almost reverently. "I feed," he said, his tone flat. "On their bodies. On their fear. It's what sustains me."

I stared at him, my skin crawling. "How?"

He met my gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I wasn't made for your world. I'm not human, Rose. Never was. I come from a place darker than anything you can comprehend, older than your gods. Where I come from, there is only hunger. Twisted things like me, clawing for power, for survival."

He paced the room slowly, dragging a clawed hand along the stone wall. "I can take any shape. Any form. I've been a shadow, a beast, a man. But this..." He spread his wings slightly, his dark, leathery skin gleaming in the low light. "This is what I am at my core. This is the form that fits me best."

He paused, his eyes locking onto mine. " The hunger never stops, Rose. Every day it gnaws at me. I can control it most of the time. But Halloween..." His voice deepened, almost a growl. "On Halloween, it's different. It's as if the place I came from calls to me. It wakes something in me that I can't suppress. The hunger becomes unbearable."

He stepped closer, his breath brushing my skin. "I try to curb it. But on that night, hunger always wins. If I don't hunt, if I don't feed, I rot. I lose myself. I become a monster even though I can't control it. That's why I do this. Why I hunt. Why I kill."

His words sounded like a death sentence. I could feel the truth of it in my bones. The cold, twisted reality of what he was.

"Where are you from?" I asked. The words slipped out faintly.

He smiled, and it wasn't comforting. "You wouldn't understand. It's not a place with a name. It's darkness. Pure and endless. I was born from it. Shaped by it. Sent to your world to feast on the weak, to remind your kind darkness is always there, waiting."

My breath caught, and I felt the intensity of his gaze, the sheer inhumanity of what he was. There was no reasoning with him. No mercy. Only hunger. Only the twisted being in front of me in his true form.

My heart pounded, the horror of centuries sinking in. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look up at him. "Then why didn't you kill me?"

He stepped closer, his towering frame blocking out the world. The heat of his breath brushed against my skin. His lips curled into a slow, dark smile. "I fed on you," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Your milk, your essence.. It's unlike anything I've ever tasted. Pure. Powerful. It gave me strength, sustenance... like never before."

A shiver ran down my spine. My knees weakened. Hands trembling. "If I give it to you willingly," I whispered, each word heavy with desperation, "if I give you what you want... will you stop? Will you spare her?"

His eyes narrowed, hunger flickering. "You would give that... for her?" He cocked his head, watching me intently, trying to understand my offer. "For your friend?"

"Not just for her," I whispered, my voice softer, more certain. "But because I want to give it to you."

The Creeper blinked, something shifting in his eyes. The hunger was still there, but now it was mixed with confusion and awe. He took a step back, his massive form faltering as though he couldn't believe what I had just said. He tilted his head, studying me, and for the first time since this terror began, I saw a flicker of vulnerability.

I didn't move, heart pounding as I watched his expression shift. Slowly, his chest heaved, a breath catching in his throat. And then—tears. Tears welled in his dark eyes, glistening in the dim light, trailing down his face in silent disbelief.

The Creeper dropped to his knees before me, his body hitting the floor with a low thud that echoed across the room. He wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me close, resting his head against my stomach, as if seeking comfort.

"Why?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Why would you do this... for a monster like me?"

Tears filled my own eyes as I gently touched his head, fingers threading through his hair. His question shattered something inside me, broke through every barrier I had left. I bent slightly, my voice soft but steady. "Because," I murmured, my breath shaky, "humans... they're the real monsters. With you, I've never felt more at peace. With you, I feel safe. In some fucked-up way."

His grip tightened, claws gentle against my skin. His body trembled as he looked up at me, disbelief and awe filling his gaze, as if he couldn't understand how this connection was real.

His cracked lips pressed reverently against my hands, kissing them like they were sacred. First my palms, then my wrists, the contact soft, trembling. Slowly, he worked his way up my arms, leaving a trail of warmth, all while never breaking eye contact.

"Rose..." he said my name, rough and broken, sending a shiver through me. It wasn't hunger anymore—it was something deeper, something raw and desperate, as though I had given him something he didn't even know he needed.

I watched, breathless, as he pressed his forehead against my stomach again. The sheer weight of his body kneeling before me, trembling with emotion, made my heart ache. It was worship. There was no other word for it.

I straddled his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, feeling the solid strength beneath me. His erratic heartbeat thudded against my chest as my hands slid to his broad shoulders, grounding myself.

His wide, searching eyes traced my face as though memorizing every inch. His hands rested on my waist, holding me as if afraid I might disappear. There was fear in his gaze—fear of breaking whatever fragile connection we had forged.

I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear, my breath warm against his skin. "Take what you need," I whispered, steady and sure.

The Creeper shuddered, his breath hitching as he closed his eyes. Then, with slow reverence, he leaned forward. His mouth found my breast, lips parting as he latched on. He began to drink.

The sensation was overwhelming. I gasped, my body trembling as he suckled, his hands tightening on my waist, pulling me closer. The heat of his mouth, the soft pull of his lips—it was intimate in ways I hadn't expected, raw and primal. Each slow, deliberate suck sent waves of warmth through me.

His tongue flicked over my nipple, teasing, and I whimpered, my fingers tangling in his hair. The way he drank wasn't frenzied—it was controlled. The Creeper drank deeply, but it was more than feeding. It was something sacred.

The tenderness in every pull, the way he cradled me as if I were precious, sent shivers down my spine. My breath came in soft gasps, my body quivering beneath his touch, but there was no fear—only this strange, beautiful connection. I could feel it in the way he looked at me, the way he touched me like I was offering something vital, something he had long craved.

The Creeper moaned softly against my breast, the sound vibrating through me. Though primal hunger fueled his touch, it carried an almost reverent quality. He suckled with quiet urgency, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes over my sensitive skin.

I moaned, my hand cupping the back of his head, pressing him closer. My nipple, swollen and tender, responded to every pull. The soft flick of his tongue, the way he nipped and sucked, sent waves of pleasure through me.

It wasn't just feeding—it was worship. The way his hands moved over my body, careful but possessive, the way he held me as if I were something to be cherished, made my heart race.

Ileaned close, lips brushing his ear, my breath shaky. "Creeper," I whispered. His body tensed, trembling, as a shiver ran through him at the sound of his name. His hands slid up my back, pulling me impossibly closer, his breath ragged against my skin.

The connection was overwhelming. There was no turning back. Not now.

He pulled back slightly, his mouth releasing my nipple with a soft, wet sound. He looked up at me, his eyes wide, glistening with something unspoken. His lips, swollen and wet, parted as he gasped softly, as if he couldn't believe what had just passed between us.

I ran my fingers through his hair, brushing his tear-streaked cheek. "You're not a monster," I whispered.

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against my chest. I felt the tremor that ran through him, the way his arms tightened around me like he never wanted to let go. For a moment, the world was quiet—just the two of us, tangled in something neither of us could explain.

He let out a mirthless laugh. "You see the good in people," he rasped. "Even in monsters. Why?"

I swallowed, the answer coming to me before I had a chance to think. "Because... everyone deserves a chance to be seen," I said softly. "Even the ones who've lived in the dark."

For a long, quiet moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes searching mine, and without another word, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around me like he was afraid to let go.

But something shifted inside me—a thought crashing through the haze. Katie. I had forgotten about her, unconscious in this nightmarish hellscape. My heart lurched, panic gripping my chest. I stiffened, pulling away from him, my mind now racing.

"Katie," I whispered, voice cracking with fear. "She's good. My best friend. She doesn't deserve this."

The Creeper's eyes flicked up to meet mine, dark and unreadable, but something like hesitation passed through them. For the first time, I saw a flicker of understanding. He knew what I was asking, what I needed.

"She's everything good," I pleaded. "You don't have to hurt her. Please."

His body tensed, jaw flexing, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse. But then, something softened in his gaze. He knew. And slowly, his grip on me loosened, the tension easing as he seemed to wrestle with whatever primal urge still gripped him.

Without a word, he let me go.