Chapter 4

T he room is dark as I stand in the shadows, picking a corner to look at the girls on the bed. More than likely easy prey. Maria and Candace, as they've been calling each other. I learned that much from watching them rip each other's clothes off. Stupid, stupid girls.

They have condemned themselves to a fate worse than hell. All they had to do was say goodbye.

Now here I am, waiting until they fall asleep to pick between them. It'll be fun. Candace looks like she'll put up more of a fight—just how I like it.

The door opens suddenly, and I retreat further into the shadows. The last thing I need is to be seen before I want to be seen. A man with a Michael Myers mask in hand comes in, his hair jet black, tattoos decorating his arms, hands, and even his neck. He looks around the room briefly, pausing when he finds the girls naked in bed.

"Hey!" he calls out to them, and they sit up, gasping, to cover themselves. They look absolutely horrified. "Have you seen Jeremiah?"

Jer.

Jeremiah.

Jeremiah.

I think I heard that name when we were playing our little game. Blond hair, green eyes, pretty boy.

Perfect.

"Sam, what the fuck?" Maria gasps. "Get out!"

"How would we know where he is?" Candace snaps. "He's your roommate."

"Which is exactly why I'm looking for him," Sam sighs. "If you see him, tell him."

"Get lost, loser," Maria growls, going back to Candace. They lie down in bed once more, and I seize the opportunity to make a move.

"Sam," I whisper, "Sammmmm."

He looks around the room with wide eyes, trying to locate where the sound is coming from. Sam spins in a circle until he's facing me, and his eyes widen with fear as I reveal my misty form to him, complete with black eyes, hooves, and even my tail. The bedside lamp flickers, casting the room in shadows, and his eyes almost bug out of his head.

"What the—" Sam gulps, taking a step back. I take a step forward, whispering his name once more. "Maria—help…" Sam trails off as he has to now feel something wet on his face.

Sam rubs his eyes, pulling his hands away to see blood, and he gasps. Before he can say anything else, I'm right in front of him. I take hold of his shoulders, and with his next breath, I'm crawling into his mouth. His body contorts, spine bowing with the force of my intrusion, until I fear it's going to break. But I'm inside of him, and that's all that matters.

Now here I am, playing with my food. The bathroom is lit by a few candles around the tub, casting an already eerie glow around the room. Seriously, it's like she's asking to be scared. I don't understand how she's so nonchalant after not saying goodbye to me, but she's about to find out just how much of a terrible idea that was. A slip up on her part, truly. That's why you don't fuck around with spirits. I even had to leave Sam's body for this, which kind of pisses me off if I'm being honest. But I'll just go back to him after this. I did keep him locked up, after all.

Her phone rings as I watch from the shadows, her breasts on full display doing absolutely nothing for me. The water ripples and the bubbles shift as she answers it, and she sits up, pushing away the tray attached to either side of the tub where she has a tablet and a glass of wine sitting on it.

"Hello?" she says into the phone. "What's up?"

She listens intently, then suddenly gasps.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Her voice is high pitched, and I smirk. "How could the board be in your car, Candace?"

Because she's next.

"Burn it, bitch," Maria screeches. "Get rid of it. It's too late to say goodbye."

I guess she's not as dumb as I thought she was, because it's definitely too late. We are way past pleasantries at this point. But attempting to burn it isn't going to fix anything. I'm already here.

Watching her freak out is entertaining though, so I just enjoy the show for a while as they go back and forth with each other. Finally, she hangs up, but before she can put her cell phone back on the tray, I make sure it slides out of her hand and into the water.

"Fuck," she growls. " Shit ."

With a sigh, she retrieves it from the water and places it onto the tray, not even bothering to dry it off. She leans back onto the porcelain tub, the water up to her neck, and closes her eyes. A soft tune comes from her—she's humming a song—and I smirk, imitating her. It's amusing to see how she freaks out, immediately trying to sit up. The lights flicker on and she gasps, and when they turn back off, both candles snuff out, bathing us in darkness.

Maria is trembling, shaking like a leaf as I pin her down. Her legs thrash, spilling water over the edge of the tub, and I grin. I squeeze her throat—squeeze and squeeze until she's turning purple, then let go. She coughs violently, water flying everywhere as she fights for her life.

"What the fuck is going on—" she cries out. "Help!"

I squeeze her neck once more, my hands heating, burning her skin until I can smell the incinerated flesh. My nose wrinkles as a maniacal laugh slips free, and I let go of her.

"Your fear tastes sweet, Maria," I purr, her cries getting louder now. "I'm almost tempted to let you live so I can keep feeding off it."

"Please," she gasps, hands around her neck as she sobs. "Who are you?—"

The candles flicker back to life, and I show myself to her. Maria's eyes widen as I touch her face lightly with my tail, and more tears trail down her face. "The one you should've said goodbye to."

"Oh, my fucking God," she sobs again. "I'll?—"

"Not God, Maria," I tut. "It's too late to ask for him."

"Please," she prays. " Please let me live. I'm sorry. I'll?—"

"I love how you beg," I sigh. "But it will not be enough to save you."

With that, I squeeze her throat once more, shoving her completely under the water. She struggles, her body thrashing so violently that the water is spilling onto the hardwood floor like a waterfall. She claws at empty air, unable to hurt me, but trying desperately to do so. I tighten my grip on her until I feel her stiffen; the fight leaving her, and bubbles appear on the surface. Her body goes limp immediately, and I grin.

That was way too easy.

I sigh again, wishing I had played with her more. But this will do for now. I have a few more of them to get rid of that will help satiate this hunger.

An hour later, I'm unlocking the dorm room, hoping Jeremiah is here. Call me pathetic, but I've been having too much fun with my little human to let go of him this fast. I should've already moved on from this host, especially with how boring he is, but I can't seem to want to let go. It's not like I haven't been breaking my rules, anyway. I've already fucked Jeremiah. What's a few more times?

What I will be doing, though, is finishing this. As much as I like to play with my new little toy, he has to die too. There's no rule in the book that says I have to kill them, but the rule to say goodbye is there for a reason. Inviting spirits and demons into this realm is a bad idea, the most terrible one they've had yet. I'm just here to make them see how badly they fucked up.

The room is dark and cold when I push the door open, empty too. It's evening now, so that means Jeremiah is probably having dinner with his little friends. Probably also wondering why Maria isn't showing up.

Well, fret not, little human.

You'll find out why soon enough.

Except as soon as I sit on Sam's bed, the door opens and Jeremiah strolls in with a box of pizza in one hand and a six-pack of beers in the other. I smirk as I look at him, my eyes trailing his muscular form from his head down to his On Cloud's . He doesn't even look at me as the door shuts behind him. Instead, he places the pizza on the desk and goes into the bathroom, slamming the door.

Maybe he didn't expect me to be home right now, and that's why he's freaking out. The real question is, do I want to make him feel better? I guess there's a couple of ways I could go about this. Number one, I could leave right now to make him more comfortable. Come back after he's fallen asleep to avoid conversation. Number two, I could make him feel at ease by not bringing last night up entirely. Or number three, my personal favorite. Bring it up and watch him squirm.

I stand up in front of the bed just as Jeremiah opens the bathroom door and walks out slowly, heading toward the desk in the corner of the room. He doesn't look at me once, and it makes me smile. He's probably still having a mental breakdown about last night, and I really want to push his buttons. I want to freak him out just a little more.

"Hey, baby," I murmur, and he stiffens, not turning around.

I narrow my eyes at him in irritation, not liking that he's ignoring me, and make the lights turn off. He gasps, his hands landing on the pizza box, and begins to breathe hard. His chest heaves as the lights come back on, and he finally turns to face me with a stunned expression. His hands shake violently at his sides, and his teeth begin to chatter.

"What was that?"

"Power probably went out." I shrug, knowing damn well I'll do just about anything to fuck with him now. I show him my black eyes, and he swallows hard, then let them go back to normal. He looks like he's seen a ghost, but then shakes his head rapidly, like he thinks he just imagined the whole thing. "Where have you been?"

"Where have I been?" he snaps, and I raise an eyebrow. "How about you? You're the one who wasn't here this morning."

"I thought I'd let you process it alone." I shrug.

"Fuck that shit," Jer growls. "How about you fucked me—roughly, by the way—and then left me?"

"Oh, so we're going to talk about what happened?" I smirk.

"That's what I'm doing right now, yes." He nods once, looking irritated. His deep green eyes shine like emeralds, and his full lips purse. "I've never been with a guy before."

My smirk turns into a wide grin. "I know."

"You do?" Jeremiah rears back as if I've slapped him, and I chuckle. "How the fuck would you know?"

"It was pretty obvious." I shrug. "I liked it though."

"I kinda…" He trails off, and I listen intently, staring straight into his eyes.

Walking away from the side of the bed, I close the distance between us, stopping when our shoes meet. I grab the back of his neck and haul him toward me, pressing our foreheads together, inhaling him deeply. "You kind of what?"

"Wanna try it again," he whispers.

"Do you, now?" I brush my lips against his in a soft caress, and this time his hands come up to cup my face. They're warm and calloused—manly. I fucking love it. He presses his lips chastely to mine, and I close my eyes. I rarely allow myself to get lost in passion like this, and it will probably come back to bite me in the ass. It's not like me. I don't do this. "When?"

"Yes," he breathes against my lips. "I want to try it again now."

With my hand at the back of his neck, I tilt his face up toward me and shove my tongue in his mouth, tasting peppermint. Our tongues tangle together, battling, warring, clashing in an attempt to dominate. He meets me halfway, letting go of my face to grab my ass instead with both hands, and grinds his hard cock against mine. The friction is enough to have a groan elicited from deep within my chest, and I bite his lip as I pull away.

"So come with me." I tell him. "Let me show you how good I can make you feel."

And goddamn, do I want to.