Chapter 8

W aiting for football players to exit the locker room is testing my patience, but hoping for Ian to stay behind is proving to piss me off. He's just about to leave when I get lucky and he heads back to his locker, telling Noah and Jeremiah that he forgot something.

Speaking of my little human, he has been extra clingy since I rode him within an inch of his life yesterday. But I can also tell he suspects something is wrong with me, and that just won't do. I don't want to control him—I want him to be with me of his own free will—and I don't even know why. It's unexplainable, this obsession I suddenly feel for him—and I don't have a choice in it. The truth is that I want to keep him. By my side— forever . That means I have to keep Sam as well. I don't know what to do with these feelings, especially since I should not be feeling this way to begin with. I should be focusing on finishing him. Ending this once and for all.

A recent development—Sam is starting to fight me more and more now. He doesn't want me to have control over his body anymore, and he's coming through more often than not. He's seemingly done with what I'm doing with Jeremiah, and every time I kill one of his friends off, he comes back stronger. I thought his silence was annoying at first, but no, him growing a pair is really putting a damper on my plans. It's only a matter of time before he drives me crazy, and I have to figure out how to keep him in check and kick him out to the darkest parts of his mind, where he will leave me alone. If there's one thing I won't allow, it's for him to take Jeremiah away from me.

Ian opens his locker, grabbing something from inside of it, and then slamming it shut. Before he can turn around, the lights flicker. On and off they go, until I'm sure they could give him a seizure, and then the room goes pitch black. There's a moment of silence when all I hear is his breathing, the rough panting making me grin. The drip, drip, drip of a faucet in the background is amplified, and he takes a step backward until he runs into the lockers.

"Hello?" he whispers, and the lights flicker again. "Is anyone there?"

I'm crawling on the ceiling and I let myself be as noisy as possible. My hooves click on it, alerting him of my presence, and his eyes widen when they lock on my black ones. He doesn't scream, just closes his eyes and counts to ten. It slows down his heart rate, and I realize he must have dealt with some type of spirit before. Maybe a haunted house at some point. Maybe something else. Nevertheless, it's unacceptable.

I crab walk toward him, slowly spinning my head a complete one hundred and eighty degrees to stare straight into his soul. This time, he screams when I get close enough to him. His fear is palpable. I can taste it on my tongue, and it's sweeter than any pastry I've ever had. Not sweeter than my Jeremiah, though, but he'll suffice.

"Run," I growl in his ear, and he doesn't even think about it.

He does as I say, running toward the showers as fast as he can. Which is pretty damn fast, but not more than me. Silly boy is going in the wrong direction, but who am I to judge him right now? I enjoy playing with my prey, though, so before he can get too far, I slice his Achilles tendon with my knife.

The scream he lets out brings a grin to my lips, his body quickly falling to the ground. I go after him slowly, and he scoots away, dragging his injured leg. But I move my arm and freeze him in place, putting him into a state of paralysis. For some reason, I'm suddenly desperate to get back to the dorms. Enough that I want to finish this quickly and be done with it already.

"Please don't do this," he begs in a whisper. "I have a family—they'll mi?—"

"Miss you?" I finish for him, chuckling. "Doesn't everyone?"

"No," he replies, fear burning in his eyes. "Jeremiah doesn't. Choose him instead. Spare me."

I freeze, narrowing my eyes and crouching down to look at him closely. He seems serious, which only serves to piss me off further. How dare he throw his friend under the bus like that? How dare he suggest Jeremiah has no one? That no one will miss him? I would fucking miss him. He has me .

Whatever he sees on my face must scare him further though, because the stench of urine permeating the air is suddenly strong. His teeth chatter as he trembles, and he closes his eyes. Tears stream down his face in rivulets, and I smirk.

"So you're just going to offer up your friend?" I ask him through gritted teeth.

"N-n-no." He shakes his head quickly, opening his eyes to look into mine. "I'm just being honest."

"Jeremiah is mine," I say simply. "Mine to keep. So he won't be dying today—or any fucking day."

Before he can reply, I grab the baseball bat from the corner of the room where I put it, and smash his knees with it. He screams, throwing his head back in pain as tears trail down his face. But I'm gone, anger flowing through my veins at his audacity. His elbows are next, and I hear a sickening crunch as I break them. He stops screaming, beginning to go in and out of consciousness. So I do the only sensible thing and smash his sternum with the baseball bat, effectively breaking it. He screams again, but before he can blink, I reach into him and rip out his heart. There's blood everywhere, a pool of it on the white tile, and I grin.

This is exactly what I needed.

I throw his heart on the ground next to him and spit on his face; the anger subsiding. And now, with him out of the picture, Jeremiah is safe. He doesn't need a friend like that, anyway. Not when he was so willing to offer him up like a pig for slaughter. Besides, he has me now, and I'll always protect him. Whether that's from himself, from others, or from me.

From now, and for always.

I t's been one day since he found out about Ian dying, and Jeremiah is pretty freaked out. He won't leave the dorm at all, for fear that he'll be next. If he only knew that he's sleeping with the enemy—quite literally in the same bed every single night. But I convinced him to come to the library with me under the guise that I have a project to take care of, when really I just wanted out of that fucking room desperately.

I don't know what Jeremiah and I are to each other anymore. I guess if I were human, I'd claim him as my boyfriend. But since I'm not, I'm just claiming him as mine. Either way, he doesn't seem to care about labels, at least he hasn't shown that he does, and I think it's better this way. At least for now, until his friends are all dead, and we can move on from them.

I've given it a lot of thought, and now that there's only Noah and Jeremiah left, I know for a fact I don't want to kill him. Jeremiah has become an integral part of my life lately, and to cut him off would be like severing a limb. It's not something I'll willingly put myself through. Which is why?—

"What are you thinking about?" Jeremiah asks me, breaking through my thoughts. "You're blinking really fast."

I frown. "I am?"

"Yeah," he mutters. "You've been doing some weird shit lately."

I go back to reading my economics textbook, the one that was most readily available on the desk in the dorm room. Jeremiah, on the other hand, is not even pretending to study. He's just playing around on his phone, which has anger bubbling inside of me. I want all his attention on me . Always.

Looking around, I notice there's no one in this library besides us. It's eight on a Friday night, which means most of the campus is at a party, not stuck in a library studying for a fake exam, or doing a fake project. The librarian is also nowhere to be seen, but I could keep her away if I wish to do so.

"Come on," I murmur, closing the textbook and grabbing Jeremiah's hand.

"Where are we going?" he gasps when I haul him up and out of the chair with ease, and I try to remember to dial it back on the strength. "Kaelin?"

"We are going over there." I point toward a stack of books in the furthest part of the library, away from prying eyes. "I need to look for a book."

"So look for it," Jer says with annoyance, trying to take his hand out of mine. "I'll wait for you here."

I narrow my eyes on him, suddenly angry at the way he's snapping at me. I know it's not his fault he's in a bad mood—it's technically mine. But they're just mere humans. He can get over them dying. He has me now.

The excuse I gave him was just to get him in a more secluded area to fuck him, but now I don't give a damn who sees us. And I'm going to take him right fucking here.

"Get on your knees," I whisper, and Jeremiah rears back, confused. "Now, Jer."

"For what?"

With one hand on his shoulder, I push him down onto his knees in front of me. He whimpers when they meet the ground, and the sound goes straight to my cock. "You're gonna be a good boy and suck my cock," I whisper, and he swallows hard. "Now lower my pants."

"The librarian?—"

"She's busy." I wink, looking around, knowing I'm keeping her otherwise occupied downstairs as I hear her muffled scream. "We'll make this quick."

"What was that?" Jer asks, his voice trembling.

"Shhh, baby." I soothe. "Just pay attention to me right now."

With deft fingers, Jeremiah unbuttons my jeans and shoves them down my legs, along with my boxer briefs. He's suddenly eager, and I can smell his arousal, taste it on my tongue. It's heady, and if I had less self-control, I would've snapped by now.

He wraps his hand around my bare cock, stroking slowly, and licks the tip of it where the piercing glistens in the low lighting. My hand wraps around the back of his head, and I yank it back by the strands of his hair. His low whimper brings a groan out from deep within me, and I lean down toward his face.

"Open your mouth," I whisper against his lips. Jeremiah tilts his head back further, opening his mouth, and I spit between his lips. The sight of my saliva in his mouth makes my cock thicken to a painful degree, and my hand tightens on the back of his head. "Make it wet, baby."

His eyes widen, clearly surprised about what I just did, and I smirk. It feels like he should be used to this by now, but he's still ever so goddamn innocent, my little Jeremiah.

"Suck my cock, Jeremiah," I hum, and he opens his mouth and wraps his lips around me. He bobs up and down slightly, clearly not knowing what he's doing, and I grab his head with both hands gently. "Relax your jaw, baby."

Jeremiah relaxes his jaw, allowing me to go deeper, until my cock meets resistance at the back of his throat. And wow—he doesn't even have a gag reflex. It's like he was made to suck my cock. I take full advantage of this by pulling back and thrusting forward once more, burying myself deep into his throat all over again. He hollows his cheeks on the way out of his tight heat, and by the time I thrust back in, there are tears trailing down his face.

I brush a tear away from his cheek, bringing my thumb to my mouth and sucking on it, tasting the salty liquid. His eyes widen, and more tears trail down his face—which makes my cock harden impossibly more until it's throbbing between his lips, aching for a release only he can give me. And this right here might just be the most dangerous thing I've ever done, because I've realized I can't resist this little human anymore. He might have started out as a toy, but now I'm thinking he's the one playing me . But it doesn't matter anymore. I can't resist him, and I'm not even going to try.

I look down at him, his full, pink lips wrapped around my cock. His wide green eyes are blurry and wet. The blush on his cheeks. The way his nostrils flare as I hit the back of his throat. It's pure ecstasy, having him this way, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Jeremiah on his knees would tempt anyone to sin, and I'm no fucking saint.

"Get up, Jeremiah," I tell him softly. "Hands on the table and bend over."

"W-what are we doing?" he asks as he pulls away from me, and I help him up by his arm, turning him around and making him place his hands on the table.

Jeremiah listens so fucking well—as always—and bends over slightly, sticking his ass out for me. I hook my thumbs into his sweats and lower them to his ankles, noticing he's not even wearing anything underneath. I chuckle, bringing my palm to his ass, swatting him roughly. He whimpers, and my nostrils flare at the sound, wanting to be buried deep inside of him as soon as possible.

Now.

"Sloppiest blow job ever, baby." I smirk, bending over to take a lube packet out of my jeans, then straighten back up. "Now you just need to come fast so we don't get caught."

We're not, I've made sure of that, but it's still thrilling to feel like we might. So I let Jeremiah live in the fantasy as I press two wet fingers to his hole, eliciting a hiss from him. He bears down on me, letting me in, and I don't take it easy on him this time by inserting one at a time. No, this time I'm rough as I insert both fingers, pumping into him fast and hard. He moans when I crook them, and I know he's ready. There's a low growling sound in the background that has Jeremiah tensing. But I just draw his attention back to me by crooking my digits once more, brushing against his prostate.

Without warning, I withdraw my fingers and press my now lubed cock to his entrance, bottoming out within one rough thrust. Jeremiah groans deeply. I know it probably hurt, but I'm past giving a fuck. I want to own him— now .

Draping my body over his back, I lick my hand and reach between his body and the table, grabbing his cock and jerking it roughly. My thrusts are frenzied, and the way his ass clenches around my cock has my eyes crossing. There's just something about him I can't figure out. Something that has me acting irrationally, on impulse. And I can't stop my damn self.

Pulling back, I thrust back into him at an angle, and he shouts. "That's it, baby, you like that?" I groan against his ear. So I do it again, and he cries out, his whimpers and moans making my balls draw into my body and fucking ache. "Look how hard you are, and all for me. Only me."

"Yes, yes, yes ," he moans, and I go harder, deeper, faster. Pegging his prostate on every thrust. He's so fucking vocal I want to come on the spot, but I want to make him come more, so I hold on for dear fucking life. "Oh, fuck, I think I love you."

My stomach flips at those words, my heart clenching in my chest. "That's because you do, little human." I growl. "There's not one part of you that I don't own."

"Please—" Jeremiah breathes, fucking me back. I switch my hand for my tail, jacking him off roughly. He doesn't even notice. "Fill me up, Kaelin. Mark me."

I smirk. "You want my cum in your ass, little human?"

" Always ."

"That's a long fucking time, Jeremiah." I double my efforts on his cock, jerking him faster, thrusting into him faster. "Hope you mean it."

"Oh, God," he moans.

"Not God, little human," I whisper against his ear, and now the entire table shakes as I fuck into him as hard as I dare. "Just me."

His ass clenches and flutters around me, and my body quivers. Just as my orgasm hits me like a freight-train, I feel his cock throb. His warm, sticky cum is all over my tail, running down it, and I'm pretty sure it's all over the table too. But right now, as I come deep in his ass, I don't really care about how messy we are. Like I already said—dangerous. He's got me wrapped around his finger. And now I don't know how to untangle myself.

Or if I even want to.