All Chapters of Claimed By An Entity : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

I woke up telling myself it was just a dream.I lay there with my eyes still closed, repeating the words like a prayer. The touch. The voice. The way my body had answered. None of it had been real. I was tired, stressed, and alone in a strange house. That was all.Years with Daniel had made me very good at talking myself out of things.When I finally sat up, thin winter sunlight was slicing through the heavy curtains. Dust motes drifted lazily in the beams. I checked the mirror.Just me. Tired, messy, and ordinary. No writing on the glass. No looping script. Nothing.I looked down at my hips anyway. The bruises were darker now, a deep, unmistakable purple. The kind that only come from real pressure. I stared for a long second, then looked away.I probably gripped myself too hard in my sleep. Stress does strange things. That was my story, and I was sticking to it.Downstairs, the house felt different in daylight. Less menacing, more simply old and neglected. Beautiful bones showed thro

I stopped leaving the house.It wasn’t a decision so much as a surrender. The thought of driving down the hill, sitting in that cafe, or feeling strangers’ eyes on the cameo at my throat made my stomach knot. Everything I needed was already here. Fresh fruit appeared on the kitchen counter each morning, ripe and perfect, as though the house itself were feeding me. I told myself this was normal. I told myself a lot of things that week.The library had become my entire world. I sat at the oak desk during the day, laptop open, doing the bare minimum of freelance work to keep up the pretense that I was still a person. But my eyes kept drifting to the shelves, to the old volumes no one had touched in decades, to the walls and corners and the deliberate spaces between things. The room felt older than the rest of the house. More intentional. Like it had been built around a secret.I found the panel on a Thursday afternoon.I was pulling a warped shelf away from the wall when I heard the holl

The visions started during sex.Not dreams. Real, waking visions that ripped me out of my body while Elias dragged me over the edge again and again.It happened on a storm lashed night. Rain hammered the windows like angry fists. Lightning flashed white across the room every few seconds. Elias had me on my hands and knees in the middle of the bed, tendrils of shadow binding my wrists to the posts, my ass high and open for him.His cock thick, heavy, fully straight ready to pound into me with brutal rhythm. Two more tendrils filled my ass, twisting and pulsing. Another fucked my mouth slow and deep, cutting off my air until stars exploded behind my eyes. My clit throbbed untouched, swollen and dripping.He leaned over my back, lips at my ear. “Come for me, my descendant,Open wide.”I shattered. Hard. Screaming around the tendril in my throat, cunt and ass clenching violently as I squirted across the sheets. The orgasm didn’t stop. It kept building, higher, darker, until the room disap

I stopped begging with words. My body begged instead. On the night of the new moon, when everything outside was pitch black, I crawled across the bedroom floor. Naked. The markings on my skin glowed soft and hot. My cunt dripped the whole way, leaving a wet trail on the wood. Elias sat on the edge of the bed. Legs spread. Cock thick and hard, already leaking. He watched me come to him with those hungry eyes. I didn’t speak. I pressed my face to his feet and kissed them. Licked his ankles. Worked my tongue slowly up his calves and thighs. When I reached his cock I rubbed my cheek against it, smearing his pre-cum all over my face. I licked the underside from balls to tip again and again, slow and greedy, until my chin was shiny and dripping. I looked up at him. “Take me,” I whispered. “All of me. Everything.” He cupped my chin. “Everything?” “Everything.” He lifted me and laid me on the bed. No tendrils. Just him. He kissed me deep, tongue fucking my mouth. His hands pinched

Liam Kendrick had not come here to get laid. He had come to disappear. That was the honest truth he couldn't say out loud to anyone without it sounding more dramatic than it actually was. He wasn't suicidal. He wasn't falling apart in any visible way. He was just tired in that particular deep bone tired way that sleep doesn't fix. The kind of tired that builds up slowly over months of pretending everything is fine until one day you wake up and realize you can't remember the last time anything felt real. So when he paid for that house he couldn't wait to escape. Then. He drove six hours the next day. The roads narrowed as he climbed. Cell service dropped away somewhere around the halfway point and the GPS froze on a road that didn't seem to exist on any map he had ever seen. He kept driving anyway. The house appeared through the windshield like something out of a dream. Taller than the photos suggested. More real. He parked and sat for a moment. Then he got out of th