My body jolts. Dick stiffing in my jeans. Breath pulled from my lungs. My thoughts blank. And just like that, the world stops spinning.
“This is me, begging you,” she breathes against my lips. “You got what you wanted. I’m dying to have you inside me. And if I die while you’re inside me, so be it.”
My eyes squeeze shut, forehead grinding against hers as the overwhelming urge to snap her in two rushes through me.
“Kiss me like you’re dying for it. Fuck me like you’re sending me to my grave. Bury me deeply with each thrust. Take me somewhere far away from the living. I don’t care, Wrath.”
Her words ruin me, and I have to forcefully rip myself away from her, staggering back. My breathing’s now shallow and frantic—I can’t get enough fucking oxygen into my lungs. Standing there, my hands curl into fists, then open again. I’m losing it.
I stare at her, eyes glowing red in the dark, heat and that sickneedthrashing through every inch of me.
She wants to keep flirting with death? Fine. Let’s see how long she keeps whispering dirty things when it starts flirting back, and I’m the one wearing its face, already planning how cold she’ll be when she finally stops breathing.
“The… Cirque,” I growl the words.
She slips off the amusement ledge, brows pulling in, confused, but I see the glint of fear and surprise in her now.
She knows it’s coming.
“What?” she whispers, voice now small.
I take one step forward and she flinches back. And so she should. Because I’m about to become everything I promised I wouldn’t.
“Fucking run, my little corpse… but don’t dare lose your breath.
I want it hot and trembling, when I fuck you to death.”
She stands there, frozen, but as soon as I take one heavy step forward, my boot slamming against the cracked ground, eyes full of something far from human—she runs.
She sprints like her life depends on it and I watch her for a beat, jaw tight, trying to steady my breath. Then I snarl low in my throat and push forward, walking fast, but not chasing. I’m fucking hunting down what’s mine.
When I see the dark outline of the Cirque come into view, I halt, spotting her small figure slipping inside, swallowed by the shadows.
I rush forward without hesitation, boots crunching over the dirt, eyes locked on the spot where she disappeared and once I’m close, I grab the fabric, yanking it aside before dipping into the darkness.
My red, glowing eyes cut through the dark as I move slow now. Every breath I take inside here tastes like dust and decay. Every sound is sharpened: the creak of rotting boards beneath my boots, the soft flap of striped canvas swaying in a wind I can’t feel.
“Little corpse,” I call out, voice low and taunting. “Come out, come out.”
No answer, of course not. Just the faint sound of something scuttling, too fast and too light to be her. Or maybe it is. She’s always liked to play with me.
As I continue ahead, I yank curtain after curtain aside, each one snapping back behind me like a closing jaw. My hands twitch with anticipation. She's close. I canfeelher. The air is thick with the scent of her fucking wet, scared pussy.
I push through the last barrier and step into the main tent.
Massive. Empty. Dead.
The space groans with weight, like it’s remembering things too horrific to say out loud. Torn banners hang like flayed skin and ariel silks move above, swaying where nothing should move.
The center ring yawns open as I step in the middle, wide and blackened.
“Oddity breathes for me, Aurelia. It’ll spit you the fuck out eventually. It wants to watch while I dismantle you.”
Then there’s a faint giggle in the distance, echoing from somewhere it shouldn’t.
My eyes snap toward thebleachers, and when I turn my body, I catch a glimpse of her shadow darting across them, quick, like lightning. Her boots hit the wood and metal hard, each step reverberating in the huge space.
I freeze for half a second, watching her make for the exit, but as soon as she’s close enough, I bolt after her.