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I giggled. “But Halloween Eve isn’t for three more weeks.”
“So? It’s our anniversary month. I’m going to spoil you every day, little fox. Get used to it.” He squeezed my ass and planted a firm wet kiss on my cheek. “Now go take your shower and slip into something naughty.”
Despite the renovations, this house still creaked as if it were as old as the foundations it stood on. While the original frame remained intact, the interior had gone through extensive repair and upgrades. But no matter how many fresh coats of paint were slapped on, the soul of the house remained. Poe, Grim, and Saint made me feel safe, but when I was alone in a room… something eerie prickled me.
Great horrors had taken place inside these walls. Pure evil had lived here with them. Some imprint of that energy still lingered. I could feel it in my bones.
A shiver crawled up my arms as I walked the endless corridors. The floors and décor were also new. It was no secret that I loved dark and Gothic vibes and the house reflected that.
With black velvet curtains, tied together with gold brocade ropes, plum and gray tapestried walls, and marbled floors, it was a mixture of the past and the present—their tastes and mine. And while we filled these once barren rooms with love and laughter, something cold and sinister still permeated here. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it prickled the hairs on the back of my neck like a chilly draft you couldn’t figure out the source of.
I paused in front of the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the west wing hall. The black velvet curtains were parted, fastened to the wrought iron frame with that thick gold rope. The glass streaked with condensation as the moonlight strobed through. It was almost winter in Wickford Hollow and with the way the wind beat against the house, I knew it was going to be a cold one. Maybe the coldest one ever.
It had almost been a year since I’d broken into this once abandoned house. The cursed and condemned house of Wickford Hollow. Only one year since Maureen had dared me to walk in here by myself, drunk off of jello shots and adrenaline. I could still remember the rush, the excitement, and the fear when an unseen force shoved me into that locked door at the top of the stairs.
I’d always been obsessed with the occult, but I never fully believed in urban legends or ghost tales. I just really liked Halloween and all the dark and delicious things that came with it. But the moment Poe dragged me out of my bed later that night, I knew something wicked my way had come.
And yet after just one night with him, Grim, and Saint, I didn’t want to let them go. My three deviant ghosts. The ghosts of Wickford Mansion, cursed to spend an eternity locked away until that night I set them free. And now they were mine. Wickford Mansion was ours. We made it our home. So why did I feel like something was going to burst in and snatch it all away?
I stared at my reflection in the window and barely recognized myself. My skin was paler than usual from the lack of sunlight. My blonde hair, longer, hanging all the way down to my lower back.
Cold shivers trickled up my arms as I glimpsed a subtle movement behind me. I took a deep breath through my nose and forced myself to still. A few months ago, I started seeing things in mirrors. In anything with reflections. Nothing solid, just little flickers and shadows. I had started feeling things I couldn’t explain.
The guys tried to assure me that it was nothing. That it was just a big house with dark corners, lots of windows, and mirrors—plenty of reflective surfaces for the wind and the moon and the stars to play tricks on my mind.
Even the lights flickered when I walked into a room despite the brand new electrical wiring. They said it was most likely because of them. They were spirits after all. But it didn’t feel like them. This felt like something else. Fuck, I was probably just losing my mind.
My breath hitched as I strained to see through the window, fixated on the reflection of the hall behind me. A lump formed in my throat as I waited for movement. Nothing. I sighed and turned around to face the empty hall. “Get it together, Bailey,” I muttered.
I stood at the top of the curved staircase and gripped the railing. Every time I walked down, I had this indescribable feeling that something was going to push me. Visions of my twisted body, bloody and mangled at the bottom of the foyer flashed through my mind. I forced the bile down my throat and made my shaky descent, my black stiletto heels clicking against the marble like keys on a piano, echoing down all three levels.
By the time I reached the safety of the main floor, my thighs were slick with sweat. The back of my neck, clammy. I had to fight to keep my legs from buckling as I walked into the kitchen.
But as soon as the decadent scents of Poe’s cooking hit my nose, a warm rush flooded me, chasing away the chills as if they’d never been there to begin with. Poe’s lips curled into a smirk over the steaming ladle he held to his lips.
“There’s our good girl,” Grim rasped as he came up behind me. He wrapped his strong arms around my waist.
I sank back into him.
Poe sauntered forward and held the ladle to my lips. “It doesn’t taste as good as you, but I think you’ll like it.” He winked.
Grim’s hands roamed my hips, slowly tugging at the edges of my tiny black skirt. “Let’s feed our little fox, so we can have our dessert.”
Saint stalked in, his massive body barely fitting through the doorway. His black T-shirt and jeans hugged his frame, showing off every curve of his muscles. He ran a hand through his long brown hair before tying it up into a top knot.
I let out a tiny whimper. The sight of the three of them never got old. They were viciously beautiful. Dominant. And always hungry for me.
We took our seats around the kitchen table. There was a fancier one in the main dining room, but it was so formal. I loved the kitchen. It was warm and cozy and smelled incredible after Poe cooked.
Tonight, I sat between Grim and Saint with Poe across from us, his sloppy grin growing as he watched me devour his stew. I moaned into my spoon. “This is delicious,” I mumbled.
Grim squeezed my bare thigh under the table. He played with the edge of my skirt. “You’re delicious.”
Heat flooded me.
Saint wiped a dribble of soup off my lip with his thumb and sucked it off. “How was your day, love?”
Poe adjusted himself under the table. “Fuck, you’re making me hard. I love to watch you eat.”
