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I look up at him. He’s covered in blood, still wearing the hockey mask. His gloved hand strays to my throat, and I feel the wetness of his victim’s blood against my skin. I can barely breathe, and it’s not because he’s squeezing, he isn’t. It’s that I’m not sure if I remember how to breathe. He pulls his hand back and tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy.
Did he just intentionally leave a bloody handprint on me? Did he just mark me with his prey’s blood? What in the fuck is going on right now?
“Brian?” I say, my voice wavering, hoping he’ll snap out of whatever the hell this is.
But he doesn’t. He just flips me over onto my hands and knees and pulls down my pants and panties. A moment later, his hand cracks hard against my ass, and then I hear the zipper of his own pants. I grab at the ground to steady myself in this surreal moment. He doesn’t trust himself to fuck me, and yet… here he is. He really has lost himself.
I gasp when he grips my hips and thrusts into me. And then I start to cry, but it’s relief—not fear or pain. Because when his body is seated deep inside of mine, everything feels right in the world again. I feel that connection between us reforming, the threads weaving back together. He rips my corset off, and his gloved hand presses against my back as he drives into me harder. The warmth of his body steadies me and helps me breathe again.
And then he’s pulling me back against him, his hands coming around me to cup and stroke my breasts. I must be covered in Gregor’s blood by now. A needy moan leaves me. He only fucks me harder in response.
I feel his mouth on my throat, kissing and sucking and biting at the tender flesh, like some wild animal with a meaty bone. Then his mouth is at my ear and he says the first words he’s said to me since this sequence of terror began.
“This is what my mouth on you feels like, Mina. Remember it for next time.”
My only reply is a whimper as he continues to drive into me. We are rutting like two animals out under the stars and full moon, both of our pleasure climbing higher and higher until it explodes. If his groan is any indication, he comes right after me. And then we collapse together.
I pant, trying to catch my breath, then I pull myself up and lean against one of the pumpkins. Brian moves closer to me, his arms wrapped around me, his head pressed against the center of my chest, no doubt listening to my raging heart as it gallops along like a wild horse. I’m not sure when he took the mask off, but it’s on the ground near the chainsaw.
We stay together like this for a long time, until finally, I break the silence.
“Brian?”
“Yeah?” he says quietly.
The anger I thought he had toward me left him in the frantic primal nature of our coupling.
“How are we going to clean all this up?”
“We aren’t. Come with me.” He stands and helps me up, then he picks up my clothes and hands them to me.
I dress quietly as he retrieves the mask and chainsaw. I watch as he inspects the leaves we were in and tears off a few covered in blood. He buries those in the dirt and rearranges everything so it doesn’t look like anyone was ever here.
I follow him back to the conservatory. He takes a cloth and wipes down some things. I watch as he puts the hockey mask on Windsor’s face and gets the man’s fingerprints on the chainsaw before dropping it near the pieces of Gregor.
“Where’s the knife you stabbed Windsor with? This will never work,” I say.
He chuckles. “It’s in its holster. I’m just sowing confusion, Killer.”
“Why not just clean up and get rid of the bodies? Why leave a scene to be discovered at all?”
Brian looks up sharply at me. “Because while the police may not know who Gregor is, the underworld circles I run in, do. They need to know there are consequences to trying to pull a contract out from under me. I told Dante it would get done. Besides, Windsor has underage porn all over his computer. The police will at least find that, and then it won’t seem so strange that he’d do something so monstrous as this even if nothing about it looks quite right. Are we done with the Q&A portion of the evening?”
I nod while Brian takes care of the last remaining details to set the scene and wipes down a few more things we may have touched.
He leads me around to the side of the building outside and turns on a water hose.
“Strip,” he says.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. We need to get out of these clothes and clean up if we’re going to leave without drawing suspicion.”
There is a crisp chill in the air, but I know he’s right. I strip and he hoses me down, careful not to get my hair wet. I’m surprised when he tosses me a towel.
“Where did you get this?”
“One of the hall bathrooms when I was getting the rolling cart.”
