Fallen Daughters: A Dark Romance

by Alta Hensley

  Lettie coughed again, gagging on the bubbling blood filling her airway. She coughed again, and her eyes began to fade. “Promise me, Hannah. Promise me you will cross over and find me on the other side. I’ll be there waiting. Promise me.”

  “I promise.” I nodded with my eyes clenched shut. I didn’t want her to see my fear or the fact that I didn’t believe that there was an other side. This was just a sick twisted ritual of a mad man.

  I opened my eyes when I heard Lettie gasp for air as her body slowly died.

  Lettie! Lettie! Lettie!

  Lettie! Lettie was dead. Dead! My head spun, and all I could hear was a high, blood-curdling scream. Someone was screaming. I was screaming. It was me.

  Lettie! No! No, please! Don’t leave me!

  I screamed over and over until there was nothing. Darkness. Defeat. My body finally decided it was time to shut down and give up the resistance against my bonds. Nothing but the beating of my broken heart as I stopped my struggle and would just allow Father Dane to kill me as well. End my fucking misery.

  It didn’t end with Lettie’s death. Oh no. That would have been too easy. Carving a cross down her tiny body was not enough for this sadistic man. Apparently that was just the beginning, because I watched as Father Dane climbed onto the alter and straddled Lettie’s dead body.

  In shock, I watched as he violently pitched his hips, thrusting his rigid cock again and again into her limp, dead body. He was fucking my dead friend and there was nothing I could do but watch on in horror. I couldn’t even scream for the thick blanket of mortification nearly suffocated me.

  “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” the priest grunted as he gyrated his body against Lettie’s lifeless frame. Groaning with every thrust, he added, “Accept this sinner upon your grace. Open your arms so she may enter your paradise.”

  His palm rested on Lettie’s pert, blood-coated breast as he pushed into her. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away. I wanted to be like the statue of Jesus Christ staring at Father Dane as he fucked my friend. My friend. I would cast my judgment upon this man.

  “You sick fuck,” I said. Or at least I think I said. The ringing in my ears muffled all sound.

  Father Dane turned his head to look at me as he thrust in and out of Lettie, never pausing once. His eyes locked in stare with mine as he groaned one last final time, filling Lettie’s pussy with his evil seed.

  39

  gently wipe every tear from our eyes: in the name of the Father, and of the Son,

  It was my turn.

  I watched Father Dane and his flaccid cock dismount from Lettie’s bloody slab and walk to the alter. He never looked at me once as he took the white linen, dipped it in the metal bowl of water and wiped his cock free from the signs of his heinous act. No amount of holy water could free him of the sin far worse than anything the Devil himself could do.

  Once his cock was clean, he then took the bloody knife and repeated the act of cleansing it of all signs of Lettie’s murder. Her sacrifice in the hope of something better.

  Maybe she was right.

  Maybe there was something better.

  Anything better than where I was right now.

  When Father Dane turned toward me with dagger in hand, I knew right then that I wanted to die. Give me my bloody cross on my chest so that I no longer have to be in this hell. Even if there was no other side, nothing could be worse than this. Nothing could be worse than the scratchers. Father Dane. The Church. At least now, I could stop running from the darkness. Either I was diving head first into the black pit of nothing after, or I would truly see Lettie and my William waiting for me with open arms. Regardless, I was ready for my bloody cross.

  “Oh lord. In this world, she has died. Let her live with you forever,” Father Dane preached with dagger held over his head. Bringing it down hard upon my chest, he added, “Accept this sinner into your home, for she will be cast from all evil by my hands.”

  I expected to feel pain, but I did not expect the intensity of the searing heat branding into my very being as the dagger sliced through my flesh. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t beg. Death engulfed every action. All I could do was watch my blood splatter upon Father Dane’s face as he carved the holy symbol into me. I could hear my flesh tearing. I could smell the metallic scent of my blood as it beat out of my chest with every pulse of my dying heart. I could hear the hollow sound of boots belonging to the grim reaper walking toward me.

  My eyes remained open and my vision intact as Father Dane reached for a bowl of oil and doused his hardening cock with the blessed liquid. I knew he was about to purge me of all sins as he coated my wicked insides with the purity of his godly member.

  For the first time in my life, I prayed to God. Truly prayed. “Please. Please. Allow me to die before he fucks me. Help me to die before I have to feel his holy dick. Take my final breath before he fucks—”

  My prayers went unanswered.

  Because I was a sinner.

  His slick cock jammed into my cunt with no resistance.

  Because I was a sinner.

  Father Dane thrusted in and out of my dying body, groaning as my pussy gripped around him.

  Because I was a sinner.

  The sounds of his balls slapping against my spread lips echoed off the sacred walls.

  Because I was a sinner.

  The statue of Jesus Christ stared down upon my used, bloody, wilting body being fucked by a priest.

  Because I was a sinner.

  I took my final breath with the cock of a priest inside of me.

  Because I was a sinner.

  The grave a sign of hope that promises resurrection

  even as it claims our mortal bodies.

  I woke up in my old bed I had shared with William, my old room, alone. I was clean and in fresh clothes—a t-shirt and panties which were always my go to sleeping attire before the world became infested with scratchers. Before The Itch.

  Where was The Church? Where was Father Dane? Where was Lettie?

  Lettie was dead. Gone.

  I was dead. Gone.

  Why were we not together?

  Fresh tears filled my eyes at the thought. I had lost William. I had lost Lettie. How much pain could one person endure in a lifetime? And now I was in my old room all alone. Was the other side a place for me to spend all eternity alone? Was I even dead? Maybe this was a fucked up mental breakdown, and I was still tied to an alter at The Church with Father Dane’s oiled penis inside of me. Maybe I was just too fucked up in the head to know it.

  I sat up having no sense of time. I wondered how long I had been unconscious. Hours? Days? Where was Father Dane? Standing up and grimacing when my feet hit the floor, it dawned on me that I didn’t have the bloody cross on my chest. Looking down at my t-shirt with not a drop of blood, I realized I wasn’t injured in the slightest. Where was my stab wound? Walking over to the doorway, I opened it and stared into a bright light. Something about the light prevented me from crossing the threshold any further.

  “Father Dane? Are you there?”

  I waited. Silence.

  “Lettie?” I walked over to the window and stared out into an equally bright light. I couldn’t see past the white.

  “Can anyone hear me?”

  Squinting against the harsh light, I waited.

  The door to my room slid open before I could call out to someone—anyone—again. Standing before me was William. Normal. Void of any sign of scratcher through his large frame. No bloody scratches. No monster. Just my William with his pale skin, his blue eyes, and his perfect smile.

  I burst into tears. “William,” I cried. “Is that really you?”

  Was William my other side? Was he an angel in charge of leading this sinner to the other side?

  To my surprise, William took me in his arms and held me close. He held me while I sobbed, stroked my back while my body shook with relief mixed with confusion. He kissed the top of my head as I apologized over and over again for what I h
ad to do to him. Apologized for killing him with a shard of glass.

  Never once did he speak. But never once did he stop showing me love, kindness, and comfort. William. It was William who blanketed me in his white when I feared the black wanted to blanket me completely.

  I’m not sure how long I cried against his chest, but eventually William pulled me back so he could look me in the eyes. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. I could see his pain. I could see his entire soul crumbling to pieces inside.

  Stroking his pale face with my pale palms, I whispered, “Are you all right?” My white on his white, my pain touching his. Light shining in from the window brighter than any form of light I had ever seen before.

  He nodded. “I will be.” Taking me by the hand, he led me back to the bed. “You need to rest. You’ve been through an awful ordeal.”

  I shook my head. “No. I want to stay with you.” The thought of being alone and without him for another second sent a panic through me. I never wanted to be alone again. Not even in sleep.

  “I won’t leave you,” he reassured. He laid me down and crawled in bed beside me.

  I curled up next to him and pressed my cheek to his chest as he hugged me tight. “Is this the after life who everyone was using Father Dane to reach? Is this it?” I asked.

  William remained silent.

  “What do we do now?”

  Effortlessly, he shed me of my clothing, never breaking his stare with mine. When he removed his own clothing and kneeled on the bed before me in all his nude glory, I couldn’t help but moan in anticipation.

  “William—”

  “Don’t talk,” he interrupted and climbed on top of me, lowering his mouth to mine. He kissed me long and deep. He tasted of life, hope, and sweetness. Not a scratcher. No longer a scratcher.

  His cock pressed against my pussy and slowly entered me. I held onto his back as his size filled me with a comfortable and familiar feeling of love and connection. We were joined as one. Two lovers reconnecting after a war filled with bleakness.

  My afterlife was William. My angel was William.

  No Father Dane. No statue of Jesus Christ staring upon me. No warm light of the stain glass windows. Just William. Just my William making love to me.

  But I was a sinner.

  Did I deserve such happiness?

  Had Father Dane truly rid me of all my evil as he fucked me into death?

  Had his last rites been enough?

  William continued to push his hard dick inside of me, spreading me wide. My wet pussy welcomed him as an orgasm I never thought I would feel again drew closer and closer with every push of his sex inside of me.

  His moans blended with mine as his actions grew in intensity.

  “William,” I gasped, wondering if my heaven was spending the rest of our days in our safe bedroom fucking for all eternity.

  He continued on, driving my ecstasy to the next level.

  “Is this forever? You and me?” I asked between my mewls of pleasure.

  Just as I was about to cum, I glanced to my right and saw Lettie standing at my bedside looking down upon me.

  “Lettie,” I said as William continued to fuck me, him not paying attention to the woman beside our bed.

  She smiled as she began scratching her arm over and over. Her pale fingertips dug into her arms until blood ran down her thin forearms. She never once stopped smiling as she dug into her flesh.

  Panic sunk in as I tried to push William off my body, but he wouldn’t budge. He just continued to fuck me as Lettie clawed her way into becoming a scratcher.

  Lettie! She was a scratcher.

  “William, stop,” I cried out, wanting to both help Lettie but also run from her. If she was a scratcher, then William and I had to run fast.

  Run or die.

  Wait… we were dead. We were all dead.

  This was the other side. No scratchers. Safety.

  Finally being able to get the weight of William off my body, he fell to the side of the bed and smiled at me. He too began scratching his arm over and over. Blood emerged on his arm but never once did he stop smiling at me. Just like Lettie. They both smiled with the white light all around them.

  No. No. This was the other side. Last rites had been performed.

  I shook my head to try to fight against what was happening. Scratchers were not supposed to be on the other side! Father Dane had performed last rites, and I was supposed to cross over… cross over… to the other side.

  But I was a sinner.

  And then my body began to itch. An itch far worse than any sensation before. With the bright light all around, and William and Lettie smiling at me with wide grins and bloody arms, I had no choice.

  I scratched.

  Also by Alta Hensley

  Bastards & Whiskey

  Villains & Vodka

  Scoundrels & Scotch

  Devils & Rye

  Beasts & Bourbon

  Captive Vow

  Mr. Dirty Rich

  Bride to Keep

  Snow & the Seven Huntsmen

  Red & the Wolves

  Queen & the Kingsmen

  His Caged Kitty

  Bared

  For more of my books, check out my Amazon Page!

  http://amzn.to/2CTmeen

  About the Author

  Alta Hensley is a USA TODAY bestselling author of hot, dark and dirty romance. She is also an Amazon Top 100 bestselling author. Being a multi-published author in the romance genre, Alta is known for her dark, gritty alpha heroes, sometimes sweet love stories, hot eroticism, and engaging tales of the constant struggle between dominance and submission.

  Check out Alta Hensley:

  Website: www.altahensley.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/AltaHensleyAuthor

  Twitter: @AltaHensley

  Instagram: AltaHensley

  Newsletter

  ALTA HENSLEY’S HOT, DARK & DIRTY NEWS

  Do you want to hear about all my upcoming releases? Get free books? Get gifts and swag from all my author friends as well as from me? If so, then sign up for my newsletter!

  Alta’s Newsletter