3. What Creeps In The Night

3

What Creeps In The Night

L ighting bursts around me, and my eyes shoot open. Rain pelts my bare skin, and a chill seeps deep into my bones. I sit up, holding my chest to protect my nakedness from the harsh elements. A scream rises from my belly as I glance at the dead bodies piled around me, their necks bloodied and their eyes forever blank.

"Help!" I yell, feeling the creeping doom that I'm the next victim of whatever beast killed these people. Although the faces of the dead raise bile from my stomach, I can't look away, an unexplainable urge to search for someone taking over.

A gargled scream escapes me when I see them, and I run over to their pale and lifeless bodies. My parents. Just as young and beautiful as I remember them from when I was a child. My mother's golden blonde hair is pristine among the gore and filth. My father is clean-shaven and unblemished, and his golden-brown hair is smoothly kept. They lie beside each other on top of the heap of bodies, their hands intertwined.

I lean over them, feeling all the longing and despair as I did so long ago. I'm a little girl again, abandoned and hopeless. Except I'm not. I'm a twenty-three-year-old woman, just with all the fresh pain of my youth.

My sobs are knocked out of my chest by a low and powerful growl penetrating through the rain. I bolt to my feet, peering through the storm and forest.

Amber eyes peer at me through the darkness, circling me. Shadows and brush hide the dark figure hosting these eyes. I try to follow them as it moves around me, not wanting the creature to rush upon me from behind, but it's too fast. It almost seems as if multiple creatures are stalking me, but the amber eyes look the same—powerful and ready to devour me.

The figure walks closer to me, and my naked skin flushes with goosebumps. Terror grips around my heart, increasing to jackrabbit speed. As it gets closer, I can make out its size. It's a beast crawling on all fours. The size of it is unnatural. I still can't distinguish its features through the pelting rain and darkness.

The creature is out of sight in the blink of an eye, but its hot breath feathers the back of my neck. Large human hands wrap around my middle, trailing slowly up and down my bare skin. Something inside of me warms. The beast's breath trails down my neck, inhaling my scent. A scream rests at the tip of my lips, begging to release, but I will myself to silence—knowing there's no use. The beast growls low and pulls me against him—the hardness of his body enveloping me.

My blood thickens, and my breath heavies. Terror is prevalent in my veins, but it's not all I feel. Right at the base, there's a longing. A longing for his hands to explore more of me. To turn around and capture those magnetic eyes with mine. To be devoured by the beast until there's nothing left of me. My breath hitches in anticipation.

The beast brings his lips back to my ear. "Don't run. You belong to me." His silky black voice sears deep into my soul.

My nerves gather up, braveness replacing them, and I will myself to turn and face him, but when I do, he's gone. In his place is a flash of lightning, throwing me back to the forest floor.

** *

I jolt up, my limbs tangled in my white sheets, sweat lining every inch of my skin. The walls shake around me. My lungs heave in my chest as I take inventory of my childhood room and my grey pajama set soaked in sweat. It was a dream. Only a dream.

"Red! You okay!" Granny yells from across the hall.

"Yes!" I call back. The picture frames rattle on the wall. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, just a tiny earthquake. It's funny; they only seem to happen when you're here."

The movement stops, but a storm rages outside, heavy raindrops pelting against my window.

"I think we're good. Goodnight!" she yells. My Granny's probably the only person in existence to be so nonchalant about an earthquake. The last one I experienced was the night of graduation five years ago—the night my heart ripped in two, and I vowed to stay far away from this place.

She's rubbed off on me because my mind quickly flips from the earthquake to my dream. I bring my hand to my chest, trying to will my heart to slow down. My core heats as I recount the details of my nightmare. The feeling alarms me. What the fuck is wrong with me? How could such a disturbing dream make me so horny?

I pick up my phone on my nightstand. It's three a.m. I have a busy day ahead of me, ending with dinner with Jack. I need a full night of sleep to stand a chance of having my bearings while with him.

I slam back down in my bed, snapping my eyes shut and willing myself to turn off my brain and fall back asleep. But even I can't deny the part of me that secretly hopes I'll be taken back to where my dream left off—to the beast that promised to destroy me.