My pussy clenched down around him; his cock was drenched in the arousal only he could invoke in me.
“Kiss me,” I moaned, grabbing his lower back to pull him deeper.
His mouth was on mine, biting my lower lip until it began to bleed and then sucking on it before allowing our tongues to intertwine.
He felt right to me, but I knew this was wrong. I could live happily with him inside me. He’d taken me home that night and, even in a drunken haze, I knew he’d sat with me until I feel asleep.
As we molded our bodies together, I was once again struck with the realization that he’d been watching me for a long time. Instead of making me feel afraid, it had the opposite effect: I felt safe.
Winding my arms around his neck, I pushed myself up, taking him in to the hilt, begging him not to stop.
He grinned and squeezed the globes of my ass, lifting me a little higher.
Our heavy breathing and moans filled the empty silence that had taken over the house.
I was at the precipice of a mind-blowing climax when he moved his mouth to hover over my ear and confessed. “You didn’t kill your mother.”
I came as what he said sank into my brain, dragging my nails down his back and repeating his name. He finished right behind me, pounding me into the wall.
Trembling in his embrace, I placed my palms flat on his chest and rolled the confession around in my head.
My mother died the same night he took me home, and even though I didn’t believe in coincidences, as I looked up at him, I didn’t think he’d done it.
He was still inside me, but his cock was flaccid and excess semen was beginning to run down my leg.
The house groaned as a hard gust of wind blew outside, bringing things back into perspective.
I pushed away from him and picked up the cloak that had fallen off during our quickie.
“Can I have my real clothes back?”
“Is that all you have to say?” He stepped back and readjusted his pants. If it wasn’t for a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, he’d have looked as put together as always.
I finally looked him in the eye after putting the ridiculous red hood back on. No, that wasn’t all I had to say. The problem was, I had too much to say, and didn’t know where to begin. None of this made any goddamn sense in terms of being connected. He’d used sex again to mess with my head and throw me off track. My heart and head were back to opposing one another.
While one wanted to stay with him because of the colossal takeover he’d done on my usual stagnant emotions, the other saw him as a major threat for those same reasons.
How was it possible to feel this way about a dangerous stranger? I knew more about his body than I did about the man inside it.
“What would you like me to say? You seem to be happy enough fucking with my head. I don’t understand how any of this is related. Are you going to kill those women in the basement?”
His blue eyes searched my face for something and he shook his head.
“I’ve given you more information than I planned from the beginning. I’m not the only person you should be worried about…if you took a second to think things through, you’d figure it out.”
He stepped forward and brushed his lips across my forehead. “I have something to take care of; I’ll see you at dinner.”
“The women in the basement?” I called after him.
“They’re already dead,” he yelled back from somewhere else in the house.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rosalie
I found my jeans, socks, shoes, and shirt in a nice pile on top of a relatively new dryer in a laundry room.
They smelled fresh but I would have worn them dirty. No underwear was in sight, something I was positive Channing had done on purpose.
After I redressed—sans red cloak—I scoured the kitchen for a piece of paper and a pen, ending up with a brown paper bag and half a pencil.
I made a flow chart, interconnecting everything I had a theory on.
The house remained silent as I worked; only the furnace clicking on added any sound effect.
I understood Channing’s father was my mother’s drug dealer, but that didn’t fit his persona at all. The Burrows didn’t sell drugs; they had no reason to. So how did one of them become an addict?
I left a question mark beside that and moved on.
Next was number twelve. If four women were already dead—the woman from the park, the warehouse, the hotel, and Joyce—and four more were now dead in Channing’s basement, only four more were left. Unless his father counted—that made three.
This was unsettling.
Channing was no longer trying to make me murder people for him; he was doing it himself.
What had changed?
I looked at my chart and frowned, still seeing no clear answers.
He’d said the roses were an added touch, so I wasn’t too worried about their significance.
That only left his grandfather, my mother, and the word ‘woods’, that I had circled twice.
Thinking back on the night my mother was murdered, I tried to play it back as clear as I could. If neither me nor Channing had killed her, then his father or his brother had to have done it. I remember coming to with a raging headache, my mother’s body beside mine at the bottom of the stairs.
Not far from us was a plaque she’d received years prior, from after she had finished college; an ironic reminder that once upon time she wasn’t a drugged-out woman angry at the world. The bloody base was a perfect match for the way her head was smashed in.
How we’d ended up at the bottom of the stairs, I wasn’t sure. Tapping the pencil on the bag, I stared out the kitchen window, squinting at a very noticeable gap in the trees.
It continued straight back going beyond my vision’s reach.
A trail.
Right through the woods I’d been told multiple times to stay out of. Curiosity burned, beckoning me to go find out why that was.
There was a door right off the kitchen. All I had to do was walk out of it. Chewing my lower lip, I weighed up my options. I could continue sitting on my ass, getting fucked every time Channing wanted to distract me, or I could go into the woods and follow the trail.
I hopped off my stool and headed to grab my cloak.
Channing never made an appearance.
I had been walking for a good five minutes and there was still no sign of him.
The gusts of wind had me clutching my hood to keep it up, which in turn made my hands feel glacial.
Snow completely covered my shoes, seeping down into my socks and soaking through my jeans. Determination had me proceeding regardless.
That same determination seemed like it was going to pay off when I spotted the top of a stone column up ahead.
Ignoring the way my teeth were chattering so hard I nipped my tongue, I pushed forward and eventually saw more of the columns. Snow had layered on top of stairs leading up to what looked like a round dais.
Approaching with caution, I clumsily plowed up the steps, pausing at the top to catch my breath and look around.
I stared at a pillar on my right, blinking to make sure I wasn’t imagining Destiny’s dead body secured to the front of it.
Snow covered the exposed bones that had begun to freeze. Both her hands were broken and awkwardly restrained above her head.
Channing was supposed to use her as leverage, but from the looks of things, she’d been dead since he’d shown me the video clip. Frost clung to her lashes and snow covered her head. She was frozen to the stone.
Did that mean Alice was…no, I wasn’t going there.
Knowing there had to be more to this damn stone structure other than Destiny’s frozen corpse, I tore my eyes away and took another glance around. A large, round stone directly ahead gained my full attention.
Shuffling forward, I brushed the snow off and read the name carved into the front of it: Christian Burrows.
Dates of birth and death were engraved bene
ath it. Looking around again, I took note of the bushes covered in snow, and how the structure wasn’t depleted enough to be old.
It was like a private temple This was someone’s grave.
I was guessing Channing’s grandfather’s. That bothered me more than the partially frozen body left out here to rot.
Something hit one of the trees behind me. I spun around and searched for what it could have been. The sound came again—a little closer this time.
Common sense told me I needed to run, but it also told me the way I needed to go was where the sound was coming from.
I suppressed a scream as an arrow made impact with Destiny’s head, barely moving her body. I turned and ran in the opposite direction, darting between two pillars and hopping off the dais.
“Fuck,” I panicked, landing in a heap of snow and struggling to get back up.
Once on my feet, I started to run. My pace was terrifyingly slow. The build-up of snow seemed to be more accumulated in this part of the woods.
When an arrow whizzed right past my head, I couldn’t hold back my scream.
The trail had ended at the altar, and with everything covered in layers of white, it was a blind man’s game.
Tripping over what felt like a tree root, I gritted my teeth as chilled snow stung the palms of my hands, and crawled behind a large dead pine. I sat with baited breath and a hand pressed over my mouth to quiet my noisy intakes of air. My body was aching from the cold.
An arrow landed inches above my head; I flinched like it had struck me and pushed away from the tree.
“Weren’t you told not to go in the woods?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Stopping dead in my tracks, I whirled around to face Channing, who looked like a goddamn archangel with a crossbow in his hand.
I thought it had been some stranger chasing after me, considering Channing said he wouldn’t kill me and I’d stupidly believed that.
“My ex didn’t follow that rule either, so I left her on a park bench and ended the relationship.”
Holy shit.
“You wouldn’t tell me anything…I just wanted answers. I’m sorry.” Holding my hands up in a defensive gesture, I took a small step towards him, and then another.
His blue eyes tracked my movements with a coldness in them that was worse than what I’d experienced from running through the woods.
“And what did you figure out?” he asked.
“Christian Burrows is your grandfather,” I openly confessed. I’d never known what his last name was or that he was even dead. “And my grandmother knew him,” I reluctantly added, wondering why she’d never told me his last name. There couldn’t have been a lot of men in Ponty-Poole with that name, and she had mentioned it more than once.
Channing studied me for a beat before pointing the crossbow at my chest.
“Start walking back to the house. If you try anything, I won’t hesitate to put an arrow in your ass.”
Diverting my gaze, I held back from asking him anything else and started trudging back towards the house.
Chapter Twenty Two
Rosalie
He had barely spoken to me since we’d gotten back, other than demanding I strip out of my wet clothes.
After wrapping a blanket around my naked body, he left me in a den with a burning fireplace. I felt like a small child that had just been scolded.
When he returned, his jacket, snow boots, and crossbow were no longer with him. He carried two silver thermoses and handed one to me.
Without asking what it was, I raised the cup to my mouth and took a sip, discovering it was warm chicken noodle soup.
“How long has Destiny been out there?”
“Bryce put her there the night you stayed at Alice’s. The video was recorded before then.” He took a sip of his own soup, not at all bothered by what his friend had done.
I didn’t ask for details on how she died or if she was alive when she was tied to the pillar; it wasn’t important. It would do nothing for me.
“Why did you chase me?” I asked to break the elongated silence.
“To scare you.”
“Well, it worked,” I grumbled.
“I thought you were trying to leave me,” he confessed after a minute, turning his head to smile at me.
“Is that why you killed your ex?” I tossed the question out like I was fishing for information, but his grin turned mischievous, knowing I was only asking to sate my green monster.
“Maybe I should have just called her what she was: a fuck buddy used as a pawn.”
I sat my thermos of soup on an end table and then turned to look at him.
“Isn’t that what I am?”
His smile vanished and a hard look took its place.
“Have you not heard a word I’ve been saying to you? Do you think I’ve watched you for the last four years because I wanted to fuck?”
He reached over and forcibly maneuvered me so I was straddling his lap.
“I’m fucking obsessed with you, Red.” He cupped the back of my neck and pulled me forward until our lips were centimeters apart. Sincerity was wrapped around his words.
“I’m going to give you the future you deserve, but this had to be done first.”
“What is the this?” I brought my hands up to cup the sides of his face.
“Soon,” he answered, pressing his mouth to mine in a deep kiss. I pulled away after a few seconds so I could speak.
“You killed Destiny. Is—”
“Alice is fine; she was never in any danger. My brother is watching her but it’s for a different reason.”
“But you kill people.”
“Yes, I do. But I have my reasons.” He reached between us and eased the sweatpants he’d changed into down his hips.
My body was sore and sleep was calling my name for once. There were a million and five other things I didn’t know, but I couldn’t deny him. I wanted him, too.
Leaning my forehead against his, I began to wonder what was wrong with me, how I could so easily disregard some people and think of them like discarded objects instead of human beings.
There were few people I actually cared about or could bring myself to feel compassion for. The number was less than all five of my fingers. People were dying left and right and as much as I tried to tell myself to care about them, I couldn’t force the emotion.
Channing spat in his hand and rubbed the saliva over my center, laughing under his breath as he realized it wasn’t necessary.
“You have a greedy pussy; I love it.” He lifted my hips and angled me above his erection. I gripped his shoulders and lowered myself down onto him, biting my lower lip at the slight pain.
I moaned into his neck as his cock filled and stretched me, slowly moving my hips until I found a rhythm.
He dug his fingers into my ass, making me take him deeper and fuck him harder. I bounced on his lap, the friction between our bodies building a delightful pleasure inside me.
Our mouths crashed back together, sucking, kissing and biting at one another.
I could feel my pussy clenching around him. I dug my nails into his back as a shockwave of pleasure had my body stiffening. His name spilled from my mouth and he caught it in his. I felt the warmth of his cum shoot inside me as I moved my hands up to hold onto his neck.
We stayed together, breathing each other in and touching everywhere our hands could reach.
“There’s something I need to show you,” he said after we’d caught our breath, slowly lifting me off his lap.
He stood and tucked his semi-hard cock away, not bothering to wipe off my arousal or his cum. Fixing his pants, he walked out of the room, telling me he’d be right back.
I stood and looked around for some tissue or a rag, glancing over my shoulder to see his eyes fixed on his cum dripping down my inner thighs.
“Here, put this on.” He held out a short black robe. I eyed it suspiciously, wondering where he’d got it from—or from whom.
The look on his f
ace had me taking it without voicing the question.
“What is it?” I asked instead.
“The question you should have asked was, where is it.” He took my hand in his and led me out of the den.
“Okay, where is it?”
“The basement.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rosalie
“I don’t want to go down there.” I tried to pull away from him; he just tightened his grip.
“You need to see this so I can end it.”
Wasn’t that ominous?
“You already tried to shoot me with a crossbow––.”
“And then I fed you and had you fuck me. I think it’s safe to say I’m not trying to kill you.”
I glared at the back of his head, giving a stronger tug. He turned so suddenly I ran into his chest.
“What is it?” I asked, taking a slight step back.
“Remember when I said I was never one to wear sheep’s clothing?”
“Uh…yeah…”
“Well, not everyone is like me. Some people make you think they’re something they’re not. They’re the ones you should be afraid of.”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this.”
“And that’s why I’m going to show you.” He turned and began walking again, pulling the basement door open and leading me down the stairs. I clung to his hand, scrunching up my nose at the smell of cigarette smoke.
When the room opened up, I stared. The bodies of the four redheads were gone, and in their place was one lone woman with a chain around her ankle.
“Grandma?”
When she turned around with a bright smile on her face, anything I was going to say was zapped from my brain.
Channing positioned himself in front of me as a barrier.
My Grandma Rosetta was an old woman in a wheelchair, always in a semi-depressed state.
This woman looked ten years younger and was standing in front of me, wearing a fashionable ensemble complete with diamond earrings.
“Some people make you think they’re something they’re not. They’re the ones you should be afraid of.
“You’re the wolf?” I accused with a conviction that came out of nowhere.
Pernicious Red (When The Wicked Play Book 1) Page 8
