*** Pitch black. Nothingness. There are whispers on the wind that are light and making me spin as they berate me from one direction and the next. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but tiny bumps are raising all along my arm, and there’s a ripple of electricity that makes its way up, pulsing against my neck. The darkness opens up, dropping me from where I was and into more of it until something catches my ankle and that deep, raspy chuckle is back. It’s slow, echoing around me as the sound of waves seems to crash into me. No. My heart thumps so loudly that I can hear it before I’m submerged in the water, and I go back to flailing my limbs ‌to get out. I’m ripped from the water, dangling upside down over it as the tightness in my skull returns, spreading up and over until it meets in the center and it becomes so uncomfortable that there’s no other option for me when I scream. “STOP!” My voice fills the silence, echoing back in a thunderous tone I don’t recognize as

Corbyn pushes against the middle of my back, hurrying me along, as he guides me back down to my room. He’s pushing me so fast that I’m practically running to keep up with his pace, and no matter how hard I try, my feet start to trip over themselves. “Corbyn,” I huff as I stumble for the eighth time, but he effortlessly collects me mid-stride and carries on. “All that running…” he says, looking down at me as he keeps the same pace, “… I thought you’d be speedier. Especially since you were in such a hurry that you couldn’t even manage to sit on the roof.” “If I’m such a disappointment, why even bother?” I trip again, and while Corbyn could catch me, he doesn’t bother this time. He watches as I land on my hands and knees, slowly walking around me until he’s facing me, before grabbing my hair. Corbyn pulls my head up just far enough for me to sit on my knees before him, fully extended, but not far enough that the pressure where he’s holding my head with his fingers entwined with m

"I don't think we've met." I hold my hand out to the slender man when Trent doesn't move to follow Gavin. "No, I would remember such a meet," he says flirtatiously, "David Darling." He’s handsome enough with his brown hair swept back and deep brown eyes, but there’s something about him making my stomach uncomfortable as I try to figure out what he is. I get the feeling he’s not the predator here. “My sister,” he motions back to where the girl from the masquerade is standing, “Darcia and I are pleased to finally meet you.” Darcia. She’s watching me with a fake smile plastered on her face. So petite compared to me, so gorgeous, that it twists something sharp in my chest. I shouldn’t care. I should be counting my blessings, and yet, it’s the point of it all. From her perspective, Trent is mine and I am his, and yet here she stands… in my home… trying to steal him from under me. Bringing one of Trent’s hands holding me in place to my lips, I lightly kiss the tough skin of his knuc

“Shoes?” I ask Corbyn as he guides me into the store. “You would think you could walk down the aisle in bare feet.” As soon as we enter, there’s a lineup of three women greeting us and, with a wave of one’s hand, the doors lock behind us. I look up at Corbyn, who looks his regular-unimpressed-self. “You would close ‌an entire store.” “They’ve lined up several pre-approved options. Go try them on.” Right. I walk over to where one of the women, who is a bit older, is waiting for me. The other two are hovering around Corbyn, adjusting their hair and batting their eyelashes like he’ll suddenly fall in love with them. I’m not even sure he’s capable of such a thing. Good luck to his mate. “Take a seat, dear, and we can get started. Is there a pair that’s jumping out at you?” She unstraps my shoes as I look at the lineup. Every single pair is white, with a high heel to it and some kind of detail that seems unnecessary. “One that looks like it would match with your dress?” She a

One simple rule. Don’t fuck this up. Yet, the urge to slit every one of their throats and paint the walls with their blood for Sweetness is right… there. Scratching at the surface, peeling back this disguise piece by piece. Would my Pet bask in the glory of it, or would she see me for the monster that I am? The one who doesn’t deserve her, the one who puts her at risk just for knowing me. No one knows me. Not when my last name is a whisper in the dark that no one wants to speak, and certainly not the face to that name. No, there are two people who live with that knowledge. Everyone else is dead. I can’t trust myself at the house while she’s gone, and so I’m not. Which‌ is a real fucking problem. I left with the need to shift, but if I let the more animalistic part of me out, he won’t be as inclined as I am to take Oz into consideration. Ruining his father is a long game we’ve only just started, but this shit is getting fast tracked. We’re not playing with our food this