Chapter 6

ChapterSix

Blake

Devil Inside - CRMNL

It was a beautiful thing.

First the confusion and then the fear.

It became so potent, that you could smell it in the air.

Don’t listen when someone told you emotions are scentless because it was bullshit.

That sweetness? The thing that wafted to your nose and made you all jittery?

It was dread.

And you were the cause.

“Sorry about that, man. My girl wanted to play. Now, here’s what’s happening because I know that’s the question you’re chanting inside that sick and perverted head of yours.” I tapped my temple and gave him my winning smile as I stalked toward him with the grin of a loon on my lopsided lips as he tripped over his own feet. “We’re going to play trick or treat. You trick me, you die. You treat me, well… I’ll give you the sweetest treat of all. Your life.” I stood before him, the tips of my bare toes touching his ankle as he laid flat on his back staring up at me with horror-filled eyes, mute as the flames of Hell that threatened to consume him and drag him right down under.

Oh, this was the best part. I could feel it in my ice-cold veins. This one, he would be as wicked as they came. I could see it in the hollowness of his eyes. How his unkempt hair tumbled down to touch with his lashes in flops of shaggy curls in an effort so that he could appear hipper. More approachable to the innocent kids he took under his wing. In the crow lines around his eyes that were formed from one too many days overindulging in what made him the most happiest.

But I won’t say it though.

I won’t tell you the sick and immoral things this pervert has done.

I won’t put his sins out there into the world.

I couldn’t.

Because if I did, I’d become unhinged. So unhinged it would become a compulsion to kill. I’d be a man possessed and I would miss half the fun in murdering this piece of fucking shit dead and showing my girl what she was missing playing the prim and proper beauty who never got blood under her nails.

Who the fuck could live like that?

“So, let’s begin, shall we?”

“I-I, I don’t—” he sobbed, those tears one-hundred and ten percent authentic. Here was why cunts like this were the most genuine when their judgment card was called. They walked through the life they took for granted all willy-nilly, eradicating innocent lives with their perversions. It was a gift of mine to see through those perversions. A perk of being a dead man.

Because you could never lie to the dead.

Men like this?

They took and they never gave back.

They destroyed but they never, ever fixed.

But why, oh why, did they cry the hardest?

It was because they became so drugged up on their twisted vice, they really never gave death a second thought and when it came knocking, the sight of it was enough to make them plead like a fucking slob, but never enough to clean their hands free of their sins.

They feared what they thought would never touch them.

People like me, however, welcomed death.

Men like me?

We lived with death.

We danced with it under the mistress of the moon and welcomed it when our time came with open fucking arms.

Fuckers like this?

Well to put it simply, they felt like the world owed them something.

News flash. This world owes you nothing.

You wanted it?

You fucking earned it.

Earn it, then fucking take it.

Just like I was about to earn this man’s life with the prize of staining my hands in his pretty crimson. Another soul to add to the tally of the ones that I’d stolen.

I looked over my shoulder and winked at Ophelia. “Pay attention, love. I’m about to show you a work of art.” Then I looked back at the mess of a cunt weeping at my feet. Disgusting. I could feel the patheticness from here. “What are your sins, priest? Do they out deprave my own?”

“I-I’m innocent! A man of the cloth! A man of God!” he screamed, eyes bloodshot as I tilted my head with cold, dead eyes. I gave him a chance to fix that trick before it cost him more than a wicked lie spoken.

When he didn’t, I fucking smiled.

“Trick it is then.” I turned and helped my soul raiser to her feet and brought her to my side. “You’re going to want to see this, sugar.”

Her gasp was the loudest thing in the church when I cracked my neck and convulsed in static energy that had my appearance flashing between the handsome man that I was and the dead, curdled, decayed demise of my skeletal form that lay rotting beneath the skin.

The shift from this plane to the next allowed me to find the lies that screamed for justice within the small particles of the air, unseen by the naked eye. It was just a thing I could do. Now I was alive, I could sense there was a lot of things I could do.

We all had them, sins that shouted to be held accountable for the darkest things they did in the dead of night. Humans just never seen them floating around their heads, begging for attention, begging for acquittal. That was where men like me came in.

“Demon! The child of Satan! Oh lord, save me! Save me from this unholy man!” As he clutched the cross that fell around his neck and down his chest, I rolled my eyes in displeasure.

I may need to rethink this demon thing.

If Ophelia wanted me to be her nightmare, I would show her the dark side as soon as I was done here. I’d be her demon and when she ran for the hills screaming because she bit off more than she could chew, I’d keep her anyway.

“Winner, winner, sinful liar told tales to a fucked up killer,” I singsonged before I glanced at my girl again. “Just call me a dead-man lie detector, babe. Thing is, this is a bad, bad man. He does bad bad things. Question is, can you read between the lines?” I waited for her to get my meaning, to understand my words and when the priest tried to crab-crawl backward, I kicked him lazily in the chest as I heard him thump back to the ground never having taken my eyes from hers.

Ophelia’s eyes widened when it finally dawned on her. “He didn’t!” she hissed in outrage as she looked down at him in disgust, a new awareness in her fierce gaze. He averted his eyes, unable to meet hers in fear she would see the truth he wished to keep hidden within them.

“Oh, but he did, love. Fifteen minutes ago to be precise. Look at his pants.” I never needed to, I’d already seen the cum stain all over the fly. “So, pretty lady. Would you have me set this man free?”

A test.

A choice.

The hand of the devil.

Would she take it?

I knew she would…

Now, she would become who I knew she craved to be, no matter how much she denied it, I had woken a dark creature inside of her that thrived for all things bad.

After a moment of silence, an internal war on morals, she squared her shoulders and brought her cold complexities to hold mine. “Kill him.” Then she turned, took a seat, and crossed one leg over the other as she prepared to watch.

Got to admit, she caved a lot quicker than I thought she would but in all honesty, decent human beings didn’t play when it came to this shit.

We protected kids.

When the truth that there were monsters that went bump in the night, but they are one hundred percent human and not some Monsters, Inc. bullshit, it hit us differently.

It became all too real and the need to protect the next child became much greater than the need to protect our souls.

“That’s my girl,” I uttered under my breath. “Looks like All Hallows’ brought you a ticket out of here. Tell the devil I said hey on your way down.” Then, I took my time. Nice and slow so he could feel the pressure building before I killed him with the oppression of the intense anticipation.

Thick golden ropes hung from the obnoxious beams that arched overhead, threaded down onto a runner which allowed them to string up massive embroidered and obtuse crosses either side of where he stood every Sunday, like a god to his people. I pulled on the lever, the offensive crosses crashed to the ground. Tying his ankles with the rope, I pulled the lever once again and hung him before us by his ankles and smirked as the blood immediately drained from his face, turning it even more ashen than it was moments before.

He bellowed and he screamed, hoping somebody passing by on this frightful night would come to his aid. The fucker was shit out of luck because all he had was us.

And I didn’t know the meaning of the word mercy and soon, neither would she.

“What are you going to do?” she asked in an almost sultry whisper and my dick hardened.

The scene, the sounds, and by Satan her fucking scent, it was enough to have my cock heavy and raw, gripped by a brutal ache. I could feel it pulsating, all the blood in my appendage demanding all of her attention. Every last inch of it. I was a desperate man, a desperate man that needed a reprieve from the violent lust that tore me to shreds in a soul burning, deep arousal.

Soon.

I’d fix that soon.

Now, I wanted to hear her answer.

“Slit his throat,” she commanded without hesitation this time. Like a regal queen sat on her throne. Any compassion she had for him before she knew his truth was long fucking gone. She shut down, turned it off, and focused that hate into an energy that was singled-minded.

She wanted blood.

Her fucks to give were buried under a layer of ice that continued still, hardening her heart.

“Hmm,” I moaned, adjusting myself. Then I had a better idea and I unzipped my pants. My gaze found hers in a silent demand. She rose to her feet and prowled closer, right before me where she fell to her knees with pools of lust so thick in her complexities, that they darkened the green, turning them black.

Those pretty eyes were ones of unburdened desire.

My favorite fucking shade.

And fuck me if it didn’t look great on her.

Slender fingers curled around me and I shuddered, the coldness to her touch a welcomed acquittal. A funny kind of acquittal when my cock is guilty as fuck from wanting to use her in any way that I pleased.

I patted my back pocket and found my knife. Figured if I appeared the way I looked when I died, all hippy-rock and barefoot looking and shit minus the flayed flesh which must be the reason why I could go all skeletal and shit, then I should have some of the cool toys I died with still on me. “Jackpot,” I growled, as the priest swung back and forth trying to free himself and gain a reprieve from the head rush. He thrashed as wild as a shark strung up on a dock craving to breathe in the salt water once more.

“Oh God, no! Please, God, no no no. Don’t do this. Don’t kill me. I don’t want to die!” he chanted, lost to his terror, and fucking hell, it was a beautiful thing.

It electrified my fucking frozen solid, cold as ice, blood.

“God won’t save you, asshole. You just have me and the devil tonight,” I uttered, my gaze focused solely on Ophelia. Her eyes fell half ladened in lust, heavy and baked as she lost herself to this sensual moment between us. Her chest heaved, and every tender breath had her ample tits rising from the effort. Thick lips parted softly, sweet sounds whispering past them and her head fell back on her shoulders.

“Open your mouth, gorgeous,” I encouraged, as the head of my cock slipped across the seam of her lips as smooth as silk. I glared at the swinging pinata and heaved a deep breath trying to center myself from the feel of her so close to where I needed her most. When she tilted her head back and opened to me with the offering a man would kill for, without an ounce of uncertainty I drew back and slit the priest’s throat. As soon as the first rays of his silken blood splashed outward in a stunning arch like an umbrella that sprayed her thick and fuckable lips red, I jutted my hips forward and thrusted deep into the back of her throat. Her shoulders rose as she breathed me in, pulling my dick taut as she inhaled and sucked me mercilessly as I fucked the sweet tasting crimson deeper into the back of her mouth with beautiful savagery. “Oh, fuck me. That’s it, Soul Raiser, bring my dick back to life.”

The intensity in her gaze fucking burned, everything was so fucking hot. Too hot for a man that was so fucking cold.

The heat of her warm mouth, the air around us. The cries of a monster and the ominous feeling that filled me with euphoria.

It was all too stifling.

All too compressive.

And I couldn’t wait to combust under its flames.

I siphoned the body heat from her, enough to take her to that place of bliss I knew she felt in the graveyard, but not enough to kill her. Just enough to take us both to the place of nothingness that we craved. The place where everything fell quiet and you finally knew peace.

I rocked and swirled, fucking her mouth in every rhythm possible. She licked and teased the under shaft of my engorged cock, doing unthinkable things with her mouth considering I never pulled out enough for her to even kiss the head of my angry beast.

Brutal, raw, relentless. I showed her not an ounce of mercy as I used her, as I sadistically and ferally made her feel every fucking part of me. Every thick and hardened inch slid with ease to the back of her throat as if I belonged.

I knew I belonged.

Tears welled in her dark emeralds, as I fisted my hand through the silken strands of her chestnut-brown hair, and curled the ends around my lower wrist so I could tug, hard. She fell slack, giving me everything I demanded. I smirked, stroking her cheek with a tender thumb as I wiped away the tears that fell before bringing them to my lips.

“Hmm, you taste so fucking good, baby. So fucking perfect when you cry for me.”

Long lashes fluttered. I reached out, tapping the end of her chin in command to look at what I had done. To watch the man die as he bled all over us like a sacrifice to the universe that made rising on All Hallows’ Eve possible.

We were covered and stood under his rain of crimson as he spluttered and choked. The sound was one of the most harrowing sounds a living person could ever hear.

It was the sound of a person dying in such anguish, that you could feel it in your soul, or lack of a soul even. It reached you even in the darkness, in the void of an abyss that became you and made you feel something, even if you felt nothing.

He was alive, but already dead and he knew it. It showed in the white yellowing of his eyes as like a sand clock, his time ran toward its end.

And I was forcing him to feel every second of it.

Having your throat slit was no easy thing. It was messy, it was brutal and it made you feel every inch of the fucking pain before it stole away the last living thing inside of you.

Hope.

It was long and it was one of the most barbaric tortures you could inflict on a person. It was a pleasure that we got to witness every fucking second of it.

The shock, the confusion, the moment it all went numb only for the pain to reawaken you with a stark slash to your senses that you gasped, forgetting you had no air left at all to save you. The moment that the tanned face of a human dwindles into an ashen man drained and then into the yellow-stained corpse that waited for the devil to claim his rotten soul.

I lost control, this game I was playing with her boiled to a point of no return. I fucked her tight mouth with abandon. I had never been a saint, one foot always in the grave, and fuck me, the place I came from had no good folks corner. I walked at the devil’s side, tearing apart the monsters in the night and now I was here, fucking the tunnel to heaven and I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

With a roar, I let my devil out and sank deep, holding the back of her head and lodging myself into the back of her throat so tightly, that I knew the air was a struggle. So, I pinched her nose, becoming the hand of her fate and the devil she would worship as I decided whether she would live or die in this moment of ecstasy.

I stared into her eyes, showing her my darkness. There was nothing gentle in my gaze. Just a question and with the look she held in hers, I knew I had all my answers.

I was having way too much fun to kill her now anyway, especially considering how fucking pretty my girl looked on her knees.

I didn’t know how this night would end.

If I would stay undead, or if I would return to Hell.

Either way, I might not have killed her at this moment in time, but if the night decided to take me home again, I knew I’d be taking her with me.

As I shot my load and felt her swallow everything I had to offer, milking me dry, I pulled out and traced the seam of her lips with my thumb. “That’s my good girl,” I praised as she smiled back at me with a coy smirk but also with the lust of a siren in her dark, dark eyes.

Fucking beautiful.