Chapter 3

Vincent

We'll soon find out what happens when a scarecrow murders another scarecrow. As soon as I'm free of this godforsaken post, I'll kill the country bumpkin chasing the gorgeous blonde through the cornfield.

With one boot still trapped on the platform, I brace against the wind and prepare to rush forward as my coat whips against my frame. Sathanas' energy roars through me.

The backwater bigot won't stand a chance against the animalistic fury flooding my veins. I've built my rage for decades, yearning for the day when I get to beat him to death with my bare hands again, except this time he won't drag me down with him. I'll crush him and reap all the rewards.

The petite little lady will be mine. All mine.

Wordless longing fills me. A faceless figure, feminine and graceful, haunts me. I had a girlfriend before I died. We'd been together for two years. I loved pampering her. She fit so right against me. The ring I bought for her remains in my pocket, but the asshole running through the field ruined everything.

Now I can't remember anything about her. There's a gaping hole in my heart despite Sathanas' power. It constantly oozes loneliness and pain, which, in a twisted way, allows energy from The Knottiverse to merge seamlessly into my soul.

The stunning blonde will end my loneliness. I'll make her mine.

I crouch and pinpoint her location. The country bumpkin closes the distance between them, herding her away from the festivities and forcing her into the acres of untouched corn fields surrounding Sathanas' portal to The Knottiverse.

If she continues running at the same speed and direction as she is now, she'll skirt around the edge of the portal in a little more than an hour.

She won't make it.

I snarl as he tackles her to the ground. Her scream echoes in my ears, my senses so attuned to her I can almost hear her racing heartbeat despite the tacky sounds pumping through the festival's speakers. I yank my boot off the platform and sprint through the cornstalks so fast the air whizzes around me. Leaves smack against me, but my mask, coat, and gloves protect me from the sharp edges, and even if they didn't, I wouldn't give a shit.

I close the distance between us and hook my forearms under my nemesis' armpits. With supernatural strength, I toss him higher than the stalks and enjoy the manic fury and disbelief in his eyes as he disappears from the horizon. The heavy thud of his body as he hits the earth several rows over amuses me to no end, but the female at my feet steals my attention.

She scrambles to cover herself, but my cock surges to full hardness as I glimpse the smooth, pale flesh of her breasts and stomach. My heart pounds in my balls.

Her warm, spicy pheromones blast into my sinuses and saliva floods my mouth.

I need a taste. Now.

She darts back toward the festival.

I catch her with ease, wrapping my gloved digits around her delicate throat and pressing my palm to the small of her back. With our fronts plastered together, I lift her face to mine by shifting my hand around her throat. Her pupils shrink in the moonlight and her scent thickens as I growl.

A thread weaves into my heart as her fear sinks into my chest. I blink in shock as a partial bond forms between us. Her energy doesn't funnel toward Sathanas like normal; instead, it seeps into my veins and animates the shriveled portions of my soul.

She's mine. I'm hers.

I lean down and run the muzzle of my mask along her jaw and fill my lungs with her delicious pheromones. Her heart pounds in her throat as I tighten my grip on her jugular.

"You're not going anywhere, doll. You're mine," I whisper against her ear.

She shivers. I grind my hard cock against her belly. Her arousal perfumes the air.

"She's not yours. She's mine."

Bloody, rage-tinged memories blip through my mind's eye as the last voice I heard with human ears disrupts my most intriguing moment as a scarecrow thus far. I snarl and pivot on my heel to move her further away from him.

"You'll never touch her. She's too sweet for you."

A wicked smirk stretches across his face. He chuckles and licks his scarred lips.

"Oh, but I already have. You're too slow, city boy," he taunts.

As I recall the shiny quality of her nipples before she tugged her sweater down over her breasts, my vision hazes. I growl and push my female behind me, wrapping my fingers around her upper arm to keep her close, and square off with my nemesis.

"You'll pay for that, you inbred hillbilly."

He lunges. I swing. Thunderous sound booms over the hills as we collide, hitting harder than ever before. With the power of Sathanas at its peak, we attack each other with the fury of a thousand men, not bothering to block each other's blows as energy from The Knottiverse flows through us and heals whatever damage we cause.

A feminine cry of pain snaps us out of our fighting frenzy. My female holds the side of her face and sobs as crimson leaks between her fingers.

Confusion and concern spear through me until I realize we stand near the edge of a small circle of shredded corn stalks. Even though I protected the beautiful blonde from my mortal enemy, I forgot to shield her from the sharp edges of the corn's leaves.

Thick fingers wrap around her nape. I snarl and grab the ingrate by the collar.

"Let go of her," I demand.

His familiar smirk transports me to the stormy night fifty years ago, and if it weren't for the ethereal notes of ripe omega pheromones woven within the metallic scent of her blood, I'd tear into him again.

"No. She's mine," he growls.

I tighten my hold on her arm and pull her toward me.

"Get a grip, asshat. She's mine."

He tugs her nape and steps closer to her. Less than an inch separates our shoulders as we jockey for control of the tiny, tempting morsel.

"You wish, you weak city punk." Her breasts brush against his chest and my arm. "She's mine," he insists as he pulls her even closer.

Without warning, he gasps and falls to the ground, pulling me off balance with my grip on his collar. Pain blasts into my groin as the tiny female knees my pride and jewels. My vision blips to white, and as I writhe in the dirt, her throaty voice filters in through my agony and fills me with pride.

"Fuck you. I'm not a toy."

Her tiny foot packs more power than should be possible as she kicks me in the shins. The country bumpkin grunts as she gives him the same treatment.

As my agony slowly dissipates, her uneven footsteps fade into the distance. The tiny omega has an amazing sense of direction—she heads in a straight line back toward the human festival.

I meet my mortal enemy's glowing red eyes and ignore the reluctant sense of camaraderie growing between us as we suffer through the same pains.

Because of her. The tiny blonde. The ethereal enigma.

Several realizations snap through me at once, and by the expressions on my foe's face, he feels them too.

She's perfect. Gorgeous. Sweet. Vicious.

Ours. She's ours.

No matter how much we hate each other, the tiny bundle of cute aggression deserves every ounce of attention we two alphas can give her.

Fifty years of hatred doesn't disappear with a few shared moments, so we eye each other warily as she flees further away from us.

We rise as one and slowly pivot to face her trail.

"Just this once, city slicker," my new partner in crime snarls.

"Agreed, country bumpkin. I call dibs on her pussy," I say.

He snorts and rolls his shoulders. I crack my neck and shake out my arms.

"No dibs. First come, first served," he growls.

"Deal," I call over my shoulder, not waiting for him to finish speaking before darting forward.

We race through the field toward the tiny omega, sharing a joint goal for the first and only time in our entire existence.

Only, as I have the thought, I realize it isn't true. For the last five decades, we've safely guarded Sathanas' portal to The Knottiverse.

We won't be protecting anything tonight.

Tonight, we defile.

I need the tiny female.

Now.