11. Aurora

Isit at the kitchen table, my hands folded in my lap, as I tune out the tongue lashing Dad gives me while Mom stands by, looking between me and him like she's trying to decide which side to take.

Do I feel shitty for lying to Dad to get information on Damien King? Yes, of course, I do. I regretted it as soon as I did it, but it didn't warrant all this. Something else is going on.

I've lied before, like all other people my age, but it's always about small things. Whenever I've been caught in a lie before, he never made a big deal out of it. He'd just say for me to try and be more honest in the future. I didn't ask him about an active investigation. I know better than to do that. The case is fourteen years old and I asked the same questions any reporter would. I'm sure he's received more off-the-wall questions than mine in the past. It's not fair that I'm being treated differently.

"Are you even listening to me, Aurora?" Dad bellows and Mom slaps his arm as if to tell him not to speak to her daughter that way, but he ignores her.

I tilt my chin to the side before saying, "May I speak now?"

His eyes narrow, but Mom looks at me sympathetically. "Sure, dear." He glares at her, but doesn't say anything. He is taking this too far.

My gaze drifts back to Dad before I speak. "Where is this really coming from?"

The anger on his face is palpable. "Excuse me?"

"This reaction is out of character. I've never been grounded or dragged home from a town event for something so trivial. Yes, I lied, but any other time I have–which hasn't been much–you haven't behaved like this. I lied to get information because you're so dang secretive when it comes to the Halloween Murders, but you'll come home and tell us every detail of any other case you work and just ask us not to tell anyone what you tell us. Why does Damien King have you so freaked out?" I keep my voice level even though I want to scream and shout from not only his reaction, but him pulling me away from the guy I'd been waiting for the opportunity to spend time with. This is Dad's problem, not mine.

"Freaked out? I'm not freaked out, Aurora." His voice is calm when it's clear he's the furthest thing from it.

"Yes, you are and I do think we need to have a family meeting because you're the one acting strangely, not me. If you're worried for my safety or yours or Mom's, just say that. It's perfectly logical to be scared, but Damien King hasn't shown himself in Chippewa Falls and it's been long enough. He could've made it here if he really wanted to. Just talk to us, Dad."

If smoke could come from his ears, it would and I'd choke on it.

"Why the fuck wouldn't I be worried about your safety? Do you have any idea how close it is to Halloween? We're days away and no closer to finding the man who bathed this town in blood. Now, you have an obsession with hi–"

"I'm not obsessed just because I asked questions no one has the answers to, except a mute, mass murderer." Well, I kind of am, but that's besides the point. "And the holiday of Halloween shouldn't scare you."

He pulls out his phone and slams it on the table in front of me, a picture displayed on the front that makes the blood drain from my face. It's the inside of a hospital room, but the walls are decorated in a single name in dark maroon ink.

Trixie.

"That's Damien King's hospital room. You want to know why that is important?" He swipes on the screen and it switches to what looks like a living room with the walls mimicking the same design as the hospital room. "Do you know where this is? It's the fucking Clark house. Tiffany Clark and two of her friends are missing. Her parents came home to find this and their dog missing. That is blood, Aurora." The room is silent as I stare at the photograph and I have the irrational feeling that I'm being interrogated, like I knew this happened or why. "Want to tell me again how he hasn't shown himself in Chippewa Falls?"

My heart rate picks up. No wonder Dad is freaked out. That looks…scary. Seeing that name repeated so many times, it must have freaked him out.

"Have you found them?" I ask as I look up at him.

"No, we haven't and their parents are a wreck. I'm trying to contain a panic, but Damien King is here and he's hiding in plain sight. Have you noticed anyone that you don't recognize in the last few days? It could be just a guy walking down the street."

My mind immediately goes back to the guy I was dancing and kissing earlier, but that's impossible. He's too young to be Damien. My guy couldn't be older than twenty two and even that's pushing it.

"No one that could be him," I admit.

"What does that mean, dear? Have you seen people in town you've never seen before?" Mom questions, worry on her face.

"Just the guy I was with at the festival. I first saw him a few days ago when he helped me get up after…Tiffany pushed me."

This is really making my guy sound bad. I shouldn't have said anything in the first place.

"Tiffany pushed you?" Mom gasps, but the look on Dad's face is like he's seen a ghost.

"What name did he give you?" Dad asks, his voice shaking.

"He…he didn't, but it's not him, okay? He's too young to be Damien."

"What did he say to you?" Mom presses.

"Nothing," I deflect.

"Aurora, tell us now!" Dad yells in outrage.

I flinch. "He didn't tell me anything. He…he's mute. Dad, it's not him. I'm sure of it. He's just passing through town. He did say he isn't staying long. He's not much older than me, okay?" I'm panicking, so scared that he is going to try to pin what Damien King has done on my guy. It's impossible. It's not Damien. It just can't be.

"We're going to the station and you're going to give as detailed of a description of this guy as you can. If he's not Damien King, fine, but we need to know for sure."

* * *

I knowDad is pissed at me, but what else did he expect me to do? I wasn't going to give the sketch artist anything to go on, other than what I've already told Dad and Mom. I kept my mouth shut because I refuse to be the reason he gets thrown in jail for the crimes of someone else. Even if he was Damien, I don't think I could do it. My guy has been too good for me to turn on him like that.

I have the irrational need to protect him and I can't explain where it comes from. All I know is I won't be his downfall, even if he leaves me in the next few days. I'll stay silent and keep his identity a secret.

Even if Dad keeps me locked in this interrogation room.

I lay on the floor across the room from the door with my jacket balled up under my head like a pillow. I'm not tired, but sitting in that chair has made my legs feel restless and I can't just pace this room for hours.

The door swings open and I sit up as Dad stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

"Can I go home now?" I ask before pushing the hair out of my face.

He glares daggers at me. "Are you going to cooperate?"

"I told you, it's not him. Why can't you believe me?"

"I want to, but I can't risk your safety."

"And I can't risk him being arrested."

His eyes widen before he sighs in defeat. "I guess we're at an impasse. I could always have you arrested for obstruction of justice."

I glare at him. "Go ahead. I'm sure Mom would love that. Getting arrested for exercising my right to remain silent. I wonder how the district attorney would feel about that or internal affairs. That would be a fun little adventure, father."

We are at a true stand-off. He's willing to do anything and so am I. He's so determined to catch Damien King that he's willing to destroy our relationship to do it. Fine, I'll do the same to protect my guy.

"You'll remain grounded until you go through with the sketch artist. Do I make myself clear?" he asks.

I smirk. "Crystal." Now, this is a good reason to be grounded.

* * *

I watchfrom the rug in front of my bed as Dad removes my TV, my computer, my phone, and my mp3 player, but I'm not deterred at all by his fragile ego. I don't need all those things. I have books and they'll keep me plenty occupied. I still need to finish the book with the skull and roses on the cover. It's been really popular on BookTok and I know it's very much up my alley, but I just haven't had time to read. Now, I do because I doubt my parents are going to let Lisa and Alexis come over.

"Enjoy your groundation," he says before he turns and leaves.

Fuck you, Dad.

I roll my eyes before I get up and lock my door. I start for my bathroom, but then I stop from the soft sound of tapping on my balcony doors. If it were spring, I would chalk it up to a really long branch on the tree next to the balcony, but I know better.

Cautiously, I walk over to the door before the tapping continues. I really should call for my dad, but something deep inside me begs me not to do that. Instead, I undo the lock on the doors and it slowly pulls open until a familiar figure stands before me in the blackness.

It's him, my guy, with a cheeky smile on his face as he slips inside like this is the most normal thing in the world.

"You can't be here," I whisper, but he shuts the balcony doors before moving close to me. His fingers run through my hair and this whole thing breaks me just a bit. "You have to go. My dad…he's the police lieutenant and he thinks you're this murderer who escaped from prison a few days ago. You need to leave Chippewa Falls, now." Even as I say it, my fingers run along his jaw and into his hair. I don't want him to leave, but there is no situation where we would win out. If he stays, my dad will have him arrested. If I leave with him, my dad will track me down. That's if he would let me go with him. The idea sounds a little creepy, to run off with a guy you just met, but…he's special. Someway, somehow, he's special to me. He doesn't even need to meet the criteria I set for what I want out of a partner and I'd follow him.

"Please," I whimper as he presses a soft kiss to my temple, trailing kisses down my face until he reaches my jaw. He reaches for the hem of my dress before pulling back, asking for consent with his eyes. My heart races as I let out a soft moan and say, "Yes."

If you had told me I would be doing this a week ago, I'd say you lost your damn mind, but we don't have such a thing as time to waste. I want him and I can't get to know him better before giving myself to him. This is our only chance and I'm going to take it.

He tugs my dress up my body before pulling it over my head, displaying the mountain of curves through my bra and panties. Without giving myself to second guess this, I kiss him hard and his hands greedily discover every inch of my body, tugging me against him. The hard length in his jeans rubs against my bare stomach and I shudder with anticipation.

"We need to be quiet," I whisper before he pushes me down on the bed. In a flash, he is on his knees before me like a praying sinner and tugs down my panties, eager to get them off. I lift my ass off the mattress and, as soon as they are off, his mouth trails up my thigh, teasing me thoroughly. With no warning, he shoves my panties in my mouth right before he trails his tongue up my pussy. I cry into the gag as I squeeze the comforter in my hands, grinding my cunt against his tongue. It feels so good, the way he teases all the right spots before even reaching my clit. I moan into my underwear as he sucks on the deprived bud and my head swims with lust. Goddamn, his tongue is like magic.

Gripping hard to my thighs, he holds me still as he feasts on me, moaning against my core like I'm the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. My fingers dig through his hair, clinging to each strand in my grasp, until my entire body seizes at thin air from the assault his delicious tongue gives me. I cry into the gag as he hums around my clit, trailing his fingers up my body until he has a handful of my tender breasts. His fingers dip under my bra and run teasing circles around my nipples as he kisses his way up my body until his lips find my own. He rips my gag out before taking me in a fire-hot kiss. My core tenses again from the taste of me on his tongue and dripping down his face. I return his passion aching deep down to my bones as I work at the button and zipper of his tight jeans, hoping he'll give me what I really want.

Him. Every last inch of him.

He pulls back long enough to tug his shirt over his head before dropping his pants and moving over me. He holds my legs open with his strong hips as he runs the tip of his cock along my opening. With a moan, my gaze flashes down to his appendage and I think my brain short-circuits. I would say he's massive, but he's so thick and curved, my clit tingles and my cunt tries to set up a damn roadblock. I don't know if my hand would fit around his girth or not.

This is going to hurt like a bitch. I've had my share of sex toys, but I was always afraid of hurting myself so they weren't ever like this.

He angles himself to press inside me and I panic. "Wait," I beg.

His captivating green eyes flash to me, waiting for me to say whatever is on my mind.

"I'm a virgin. Just be gentle at first."

His eyes darken with lust before he nods and immediately presses into me. As soon as I start to scream from the agony of being stretched so far, he shoves my panties back in my mouth.

Is he gentle? Compared to how rough he could be with me, I'd say so, but that doesn't stop from it being the worst pain I've ever experienced in my life.

He thrusts all the way in, splitting me in two with the sword between his thighs, and he pins my arms above my head as he waits. I'm just waiting to die from trying to have sex and failing because of all the guys I could've taken to my bed, I had to choose the one swinging a damn horse cock.

He trails kisses down my neck as my pussy throbs painfully until he reaches my bra. He kisses around my nipple, teasing the areola, before sucking me into his mouth. My body jolts in surprise and it doesn't hurt nearly as much as I thought moving would. As a matter of fact, it hurts less when I move.

He pulls back and thrusts into me, testing it out, and my body hums with the mixture of pleasure and pain. It's a toxic cocktail I can't get enough of.

His thrusts gain momentum as he grunts and growls into my skin, but it's different than the noises he made before. They aren't full of need, but pain. Emotional agony.

I spit out my gag before looking down at him. I open my mouth to say something, but he suddenly pushes himself off me, ripping himself out of my pussy like I stung him. I cover my naked body with my arms as I sit up and watch him make a mad dash of his clothes.

Something is very wrong. I don't know how to help him or what I can say.

"What's wrong?" I ask, but it's not like he can actually answer the question. I just want to help him and be here for him.

Instead of answering me in any capacity, he tugs on his jeans before grabbing his shirt and hoodie, making a mad dash for the balcony.

"Wait, please," I plead with him as I cover myself with my blanket and try to follow him, but before I can make it to the balcony doors, he's gone, running down the street like he can't get away from me fast enough.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.