Page 22 of Fed By Fear

We’re good at the scaring part, less at the control. Which means our need for fear is met but our other needs often remain unquenched.

We’ve pleased each other for centuries but to have a woman, a plaything of our own…that would change everything. The blue skin of her arm means it might be possible. Whatever is happening inside of her is making her smell less human by the minute.

Githany’s reaction to fear and pain has me so hopeful that she’s different, that she could take it, take us. I could rip out of my skin right now from sheer excitement. This one.This onemay actually be willing to discover how far we can push her before she breaks.

I won’t. Not just yet.

If she sees our fear selves, I’m positive she’ll cross the line from scared to terrified and we’ll lose our chance at mutual pleasure.

Madness has a tendency to get carried away. Today is no different. He’s still licking Githany when his face transforms, first the length of his tongue, then his smile, growing wider and wider.

Githany’s sweet moans cease.

“Madness,” Gator growls.

There’s a subtle shift in Githany’s scent. Confusion, panic, uncertainty. It doesn’t spoil completely. There’s still curiosity underneath. We haven’t scared her off yet.

“You guys aren’t”—she swallows, the sound almost vulgar against the silence of the space—“human.”

“Neither are you.” Gator flicks his tongue out again.

Genuine confusion knits her brow. “I’m a human.”

“Your spectral companions might beg to differ, little necromancer.”

Her dark lips turn down. “Don’t call me that.”

Gator nods. “You’re right. I like ‘ghost girl’ better. So tell us, ghost girl, have you always seen dead people?”

Her tongue swipes out, wetting her bottom lip. “No.”

I take a step closer. “When did it start?”

She pales. “I’m not talking about that.”

Fair enough. I’ll give her this one, for now. If she wasn’t born with the ability then she probably experienced massive trauma to her psyche or some shit. That’s how it usually happens.

Her scent has changed again. My voice drops. “You’re scared.”

“I’m—”

“That wasn’t up for debate.”Madness cackles.

“You weren’t scared in our rooms,” Gator muses.

I push forward, crowding her back against a nearby tree. “But now that we’ve got you cornered, giving you our personal attention, you finally smell like fear.” Dipping my face into the nook of her neck, I inhale deeply. “And you smell wet.”

She sputters, scoffing. “I do not.”

Stubborn, this one. Why is that so sexy in a woman?

I raise the tip of my chainsaw to her throat. Her scent intensifies.“Sexy, sexy little liar.”

Her tongue darts out, wetting those plump lips again. “You have to let me go.”

Poor thing. She still thinks there’s an outcome where she gets away from us. “We could. But we won’t.”

Behind me, Madness’s laughter bubbles up. “Sorry, ghost girl. We’ve tasted your blood. You’ll never be able to escape us now.”