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“Get some rest, little nightmare,” I say softly. “Everything’s going to be alright.”
The next morning,I’m up early. Cara is still asleep, her breathing even and slow. I stand over her, watching her for a moment before making my way downstairs. Plopping down on the couch, I pull out my phone and open the browser. I can’t leave her alone, not yet. The house isn’t adequately secured, and before I can ensure she can’t escape, I need some supplies. I’ll have to order everything we need online and have it delivered.
I order food and supplies—everything we’ll need for the next few weeks. I make sure to include plenty of her favorites, anything to keep my girl happy. She deserves that.
After everything, she needs to be treated well.
Besides, what better way to let her know how much I care?
Once the order is complete, I move on to securing the house. I’ve already gone over it a hundred times, but now I need to make sure it’s perfect. Every window, every door—I check them all, reinforcing the locks and adding more to the doors; that way,if she somehow manages to get free, it will take her a while to escape.
I board up the windows so she can’t see out of them. I even install more cameras, pulling them out from the hidden compartment in my phone case.
I position them carefully, ensuring they cover every angle and possible escape route. She won’t get out. Not even if she somehow manages to free herself. This house—it’s our sanctuary, our prison, our home. And I’ll make sure it’s perfect for us.
When I’m finally satisfied with the security, I step back and take a deep breath. The house is quiet, still. The only sound is the faint hum of the cameras. Everything is in place. Everything is perfect.
But there’s one last thing to take care of.
I head to the garden in the backyard, shovel in hand. The earth is soft from the recent rain, making it easy to dig the hole. I choose a spot between a bush and a tree toward the back of the yard and start digging. When it’s deep enough, I make my way to the front porch where we left my little gift last night—Jonah’s head. His face is still frozen with that last moment of surprise I carved into it. Eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream. I tuck the decaying chunk of flesh under my arm, the ears I severed off last night still shoved in his mouth. I have something else in mind. A better, more fitting item for Jonah to have in his mouth while he rots in the dirt. Pulling the ears from his mouth, I shove one into each eye socket before making my way to the back of the house.
Reaching the hole I dug, I smirk as I pull the cob of corn from my pocket—the one I had used on Cara. I shove it into Jonah’s mouth, forcing it past the jagged carving wound.
“Enjoy eternity, Jonah,” I mutter, tossing the head into the hole. “Now you can spend it with the taste of what you missed out on coating your tongue with.”
I bury the head, patting the earth down firmly before standing back. The yard looks the same as it always has, but now it holds a secret—a reminder of what happens when anyone tries to come between me and what’s mine.
I head back inside, wiping the dirt from my hands. Cara is still sleeping, still oblivious. Everything is ready. Everything is finally as it should be. All I can do now is wait for my little nightmare to wake up and see if she’ll be as cooperative as she was when she went to sleep or if that feisty side of her wants to go another round.
Chapter Three
CARA
It’s been four days. Rhett has spent nearly every waking moment in this room, but he hasn’t touched me since Halloween night.
I think he’s trying to give me space. Maybe even a little time to heal.
But he’s barely keeping it together. He’s hiding it the best he can even though it’s clear he’s fighting an internal battle with himself. There’s a slight shake to his words when he looks at me for too long. Like he’s a caged animal desperate to break free, desperate to fuck, but he’s holding back.
Twice a day, Rhett tends to my wounds, which are healing quickly because of how often he treats them. Pumpkin vines have more spikes than a fucking cactus.
Remove the bandage, cleanse, apply an antibiotic ointment, and then apply a new bandage. Over and over again, every day, like his sole purpose is to take care of me. He’s gentle as he tends to my cuts, using the softest pressure, which involuntarily draws goosebumps to the surface of my skin. The way his eyes darken when he sees them makes my stomach flip. Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s the anticipation of him fucking me again, or if it’s fear.If I’m being completely honest with myself, it’s probably both. Itisboth.
He’s terrifying as fuck, but he excites me. Each time he enters my bedroom I can’t help but find myself panting, needy, completely consumed by his presence, and there’s nothing I can fucking do about it.
I’ve spent countless hours over the past four days trying to convince myself that Rhett’s a deranged monster, feral and lost to his own darkness, but the more I get to know him, the more I feel like I’m losing myself. The possibility thatI’mthe monster has crossed my mind more than once.
Is it possible that I’m as psychotic as he is?
Once the initial shock of finding Jonah’s severed head on my porch wore off, I realized that I haven’t shed a single tear for him. Truthfully, I’m not even sad. I hated him for what he did to me at the party, and Rhett took care of it, even though he went about it in the most unhinged and fucked up way possible. He handled it.
God, it sounds so fucked up, but I almost feel relieved to not have to hide my friends-with-benefits relationship with him from Sloan anymore. We swore we wouldn’t keep secrets, but he was the one thing I could never get myself to tell her about. She despised him, rightfully so, and I was ashamed. I should have walked away from him when we ran into each other at the corn roast festival last year, but I was too desperate. Too horny.
And what did I get from it? Jack shit.
The sex was mediocre at best, and I faked every orgasm. Ninety-nine percent of the time I went straight to my drawer of dildos and vibrators after hooking up with Jonah.
Speaking of my sex toys, Rhett has taken them hostage. Every single one of them.
