Owned by Harrow Hill
She thought the worst thing that could happen to her had already happened.
Her husband. His assistant. Eight years of marriage quietly falling apart on a Tuesday afternoon while she was at work.
She was wrong.
Evelyn Harper bought the house on Harrow Hill to disappear. Remote. Abandoned. Cheap enough to make her laugh out loud at two in the morning.
She should have asked why it was so cheap.
From the very first night, something in the walls knew her name.
Evelyn.
Low and unhurried. The way someone speaks your name when they have been waiting a very long time to say it out loud finally.
Then came the touch.
Fingertips, cool and deliberate, ghosting along the inside of my thigh. I shifted, half asleep, my legs parting before I could think better of it. The touch climbed higher, slow and patient, tracing the seam of me, circling the ache that bloomed hot and sudden between my legs. I was embarrassingly wet, instantly wet ,hips rocking into nothing, chasing the sensation.
Then she knew that;
Something ancient lived in that house.
Something that had chosen her specifically.
Something that had been waiting for her bloodline for over a century.
And the lonely man who follows her into its darkness may be the only thing standing between Evelyn and losing herself forever.
Some houses don't just haunt you
They own you.