The Horror Emporium: A Horror Anthology

by K. A Knight

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You won’t have another chance.” The sadness appears again. “Desearía que pudieras.”

  He takes two more steps, close enough to reach out his hand for mine.

  “My instincts are screaming at me to run,” I mumble.

  “Why don’t you listen to them?”

  “Because my heart is telling me to stay.”

  Dante freezes, his eyes leaping to mine, studying me. “Your heart?”

  I nod, my fingers digging into the wood harder. Dante moves again, coming to a stop in front of me. Slowly, his fingers grasp my chin and lift until I’m looking up into his eyes.

  “Why won’t you run, dulzura?”

  “Your nature isn’t your fault.” I reach up, touching his ear, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Slowly, I trace the point, curious. “They aren’t red contacts, are they?”

  He clenches his jaw again. “No.” The word is so soft I would have missed it had I not been standing so close.

  “Do you want me to stay, Dante?”

  “So badly.”

  “But you also want me to go?”

  He nods, his long, slender fingers grasping my chin. His other hand slowly circles my waist, gentle but he doesn’t pull me inside. “I want you to live.”

  “Can I not live and stay?” I ask, and for some reason, that sentence doesn’t frighten me like it should. Maybe because I’m already well acquainted with death. Maybe because I’ve been dead a long time on the inside anyways. Día de los Muertos is about celebrating, but what happens when the only thing you want to celebrate with is promising your death?

  I release the door jamb and let Dante pull me inside.

  The door slams shut behind me, sealing my fate, trapping me inside with the devil in front of me. His arms come around me, pressing me against his body. “You should have run,” he groans, his fingers threading into my hair.

  I don’t answer, mostly because I have no answer to his statement. I probably should have run, but I don’t. There’s no use dwelling on it now. He leans back to look down into my eyes, searching for something. “Quiero ver tu cara. Without makeup.”

  He leads me towards the small bathroom off to the side of the room. It’s simple, only a commode, a shower, and a sink inside, nothing extra. I expect Dante to go towards the sink but instead, he reaches inside the shower and turns it on. We stand there staring at each other as the room begins to fill with steam.

  “There’s something about you that will destroy me,” he whispers, his fingers plucking the flower crown from my head. He tosses it onto the sink, a few petals falling off. Carefully, he kneels in front of me, his fingers wrapping around my ankles and lifting. I brace myself against the sink counter as his fingers work the buckles free from my sandals. “There’s something there I can’t figure out.” As he kneels, his head still sits at breast level because of his height. With shaking hands, he reaches up and begins to work my dress down my body. I thread my fingered into his hair, my breath coming in pants at his slow torture. “Mierda,” he whispers as he reveals my skin, as the dress pools to the floor. I shiver when his fingers stroke a trail of fire up my leg, starting at my ankle, only to wrap them around my hip. He places a chaste kiss between my breasts, before standing. He doesn’t try to pull me into him that time. Instead, he scoops me into his arms and steps inside the shower.

  The water is hot, scorching almost, but I don’t complain as the steam works its way into our skin. He only sets me down to grab a hand towel. The towel is a little rough against my face as he begins to clean the makeup there, wiping away the white and black, the glitter Myrna had insisted I add. I close my eyes and let him, my hands circling his clothed waist. The water soaks into his clothes, plastering the black material to his body.

  “There,” he says, his eyes hooded as he looks down at me. “Now I can see your face better.”

  I smile, only because it feels like he genuinely wants to remember my features, his eyes mapping out what he sees. The steam of the shower makes his hair curl more, the little flip over his forehead only adding to his appeal. “I’m standing here naked,” I point out, my fingers going to the buttons of his shirt. “It’s only fair that you be naked, too.”

  Most of his buttons are already undone so it’s easy enough to yank his shirt from his waistband and pull open the material completely, his tanned, sculpted skin revealed. I run my fingers across the planes of his chest, the muscles jumping at my touch. My fingers go to the waistband of his pants and his fingers curl around my wrists. If I expected him to tell me to stop, I would have been wrong. Instead, his fingers coax mine to slide his pants down, to reveal every inch of tantalizing skin. The sound of the wet clothing slapping the floor outside the shower doesn’t even register as he leans down and runs his lips across my jaw, one of his hands against my hip, the other circling to the back of my neck. I moan as his lips trail fire down my neck, my core tightening at the feeling. I reach down and circle his length with my hand, his hips jerking in response. I feel his teeth nip me in retaliation, and I jump. His teeth had felt sharp enough to break the skin, but when he replaces his teeth with his lips and kisses the sting away, I focus again on sliding my hand up his hard length and back down. He shivers against me.

  “Me estás matando, dulzura,” he groans, tangling his fingers through my wet hair.

  “It’s only fair, diablo,” I sigh, stroking him.

  “This won’t be sweet,” he growls, pumping against my hand. “I don’t have the control. Not with you.”

  “I didn’t ask for sweet. Don’t fight your nature for me, Dante.” His name leaving my lips seems to do something to him, excite him more maybe. His fingers clench against my scalp and he pulls back to peer in my eyes.

  “I told you names have power, Mallory.” I shiver as his red eyes stare deeply into mine, as he grins and reveals sharpened teeth. His skin, still golden, suddenly looks as if it is pearlescent. Tiny horns curl from his hair, horns I most definitely never noticed before. “Any glamor I might have held just fell when you spoke mine.”

  “What?” I gasp, but he doesn’t answer.

  Dante takes my lips with a savage growl, spearing his tongue inside my mouth. His hold on my hair keeps me from pulling away, but I wouldn’t have anyways. I meet him thrust for thrust, my hand still wrapped tightly around his cock, my other hand circling his neck and tangling in his hair. When I touch my fingers to the horn closest to me, he growls into my mouth, his hips thrusting harder against me.

  Dante’s free hand strokes across my breast, kneading the flesh before he pinches my nipple. I moan against him, getting as close as possible. I need to feel him completely. He breaks from my lips only to release his hold on my hair and drop to his knees. Without waiting for me to say a word, he hikes my legs over his shoulders, my back slamming against the shower wall to keep my balance, and he spears my lips with his tongue.

  “Oh, my god,” I moan, threading both of my hands through his hair, his horns scraping against my wrists.

  He sucks at my clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves, driving me insane. The muscles in my stomach clench dangerously, my orgasm just over the edge.

  “Sabes a miel,” he purrs between my legs, just before he strokes a finger inside of me.

  The orgasm hits me hard, my scream loud even as I clutch as his horns, my thighs clamping tight around him. He doesn’t slow. Hell, he doesn’t give me any chance at all to ride out the orgasm or to realize that I’m a little weak with it. One second my legs are on his shoulders, the next, he drops them and spins me around, my chest smashing against the wall. For a moment, confusion takes over even with the spasms of my body. When a clawed hand wraps around my throat and the other around my hip, I gasp.

  “You said you were okay with me being a monster,” he growls in my ear. “Is that still true?”

  “Yes,” I turn my head and look at him over my shoulder, my eyes meeting his. The red is brighter than ever, his fac
e twisted with arousal and savagery. The curls still hang over his forehead, still the incredibly sexy man I’d found on the streets of Matamoros. Or I suppose, he found me.

  His hand squeezes around my throat, his eyes fierce as he looks down at me. “Dulzura,” he moans, and his cock slides inside me.

  My eyes flutter closed in pleasure but when he bites me on the shoulder hard enough to sting, I pop them open again.

  “Keep your eyes open,” he demands, pulling out and slamming back inside again. I almost close my eyes again, the pleasure too much under his watchful eyes.

  And then he’s drilling inside of me, his cock hitting places that shouldn’t be possible, his eyes keeping mine hostage. He circles my body and clutches at my breast, his claws leaving little pricks of blood, but I’m too far gone to care.

  “Fuck,” I cry, my hands braced against the wall with nothing else to hold onto.

  His chest rumbles with pleasure, and on a sudden bead of inspiration, he pulls out of me and jerks me out of the shower. With legs like jelly, I stumble out, but he doesn’t wait for me to get my bearings. He presses me against the sink, my face towards the mirror, before he enters me from behind again. His fingers wrap my blonde hair in his fist and arches me backwards, my eyes staring at his reflection.

  “Much better,” he groans, his fingers tweaking my nipple hard enough to make me cry out. “Te ves hermosa así.”

  He falls into a whole host of Spanish that I don’t understand. I catch a few words like “beautiful” and “fuck” but otherwise, the sound of his words just goes straight to my core. He slams inside of me, the sounds of skin slapping skin only adding to the orgasm building inside me. His cock hits my sensitive nerves over and over again, reaching places inside of me I’ve never felt before. I reach behind me with one hand, my eyes locked on his in the mirror, wrapping my fingers around his neck, letting him work us both into a frenzy. He fucks me like he both hates me and likes me, his hips setting a bruising pace, but his hands gentle so as not to injure me with his claws.

  “Too sweet,” I pant, because he’d promised not to be sweet at all. “Don’t change your nature, Dante.”

  Saying his name has the desired effect. Any façade of humanity on his face disappears, and the monster he promised he was takes its place. He snarls and slams inside me of me so hard, I cry out in both pain and pleasure. His eyes glowing violently, my gaze fixed on his in the mirror, I scream when he grins and strikes my shoulder, his teeth sinking into the flesh and sending brief pain through my body. He doesn’t slow his thrusts as his tongue dances along the brutal bite, as his hand dips down to stroke my clit.

  “Tu alma me pertenece,” he growls, his voice so thick, it’s almost hard to understand him. “Do you give your soul freely?”

  “Yes,” I cry out, and he rewards me with a small slap to my clit. I scream, the pleasure pain too much and yet not enough.

  “¡Mierda!” He cranks my head to the side to capture my lips, his pace never slowing. I meet his tongue with mine, matching his fierceness. He breaks the kiss and focuses on pounding me against the sink, bruising the tops of my thighs with his ferocity, with his power.

  “Dante!” I scream, and tumble over the edge, my fingers clutching at the sink, at anything I can find purchase on. My body explodes with pleasure as he strokes inside of me, as he rides my orgasm and then follows me over with a savage snarl, his hips slamming against mine, his cock jerking inside of me. Each quiver of my body weakens me, my body going lax against the counter, but my eyes stay on his, on the pure pleasure in his eyes that changes to dismay as I slump forward.

  He clenches his jaw and pulls out of me, his warmth trickling down my leg, but he keeps hold of me to keep me from falling, his strong arms wrapping around and gently scooping me up to cradle against his chest.

  I feel so weak, my body failing me, my head rolling backwards in exhaustion. “What’s happening?” I murmur.

  Dante kneels on the bed in the room and lays me on top, his glimmering body coming over me. “I told you I was a monster,” he whispers, tucking hair from my forehead as he looks down at me. “My kind feeds on your energy. It’s not something I can control.”

  I blink up at him and raise my hand to caress his face. He’s beautiful without the mask, in his full glory. “You told me to run.”

  He leans down and presses his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss, completely at odds with the brutal beauty of him. “You said you would give me your soul,” he whispers. “Puedes tener el mío también.”

  “You can keep your soul, Dante.” I stroke my fingers along his jaw, my strength fading faster. “Give it to someone who will be around to keep it.”

  He presses his forehead against my chest, his shoulders tense. “I didn’t want to do this to you.” When he looks up at me, moisture hovers in his eyes, as if he wants to free his emotions but can’t. “I wish I could have walked away.”

  “It’s okay.” My eyes grow heavy, my hand shaking against his jaw. He reaches up and holds it there, lending me his strength. “It’s okay to be a monster, diablo. It’s who you are.”

  “I can save you,” he starts, his eyes fierce. “I just need to find someone else to take their energy.”

  “No.” It’s meant to be a command, but my voice is barely a whisper. I couldn’t live with someone else dying to save my life, not when it was my own stupidity that got me here.

  “But—”

  “Remember something for me, diablo, won’t you?”

  “Anything.”

  “It’s better to have loved and lost,” I breathe, “than to never have loved at all.”

  My eyes slide closed, my body going limp with exhaustion. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud, like I weigh as much as a feather. What about Myrna? She’ll be so worried, I think, wishing there was a way for me to say good-bye, to tell her what happened. I can only hope she places my photo on an altar next year, that her traditions are true, and I can cross over to visit her.

  “Mallory, I’m sorry,” Dante says, his voice sounding far away. “I never wanted to be this monster.”

  I have just enough energy to reply, just enough for a few words, just enough to breath them. “Even monsters need love, diablo.” The words I’d spoken earlier, the ones I meant.

  And then I sink into the void, the darkness wrapping around me like an old friend, and even though it feels like it’s much too soon, I can feel the smile curve my lips.

  The words flit through my consciousness.

  Even pretty devils can hate themselves. Even monsters need love.

  And then I know nothing more. . .

  Chapter 7

  Dante stares down at the woman lying on the bed, her chest no longer rising, her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her. He clenches his jaw and pulls the covers over her naked body, tucking her in as he would a child.

  His body hums with her energy, with her power, and it both repulses him and makes him feel whole. At least he can carry her with him, his dulzura.

  He turns to go but not before he sees the forgotten flower crown sitting on the bathroom counter, still whole even after their vigorous lovemaking. With gentle fingers, he lifts the cempasúchil crown, the yellow flowers bright in the darkened room. Just as the first rays of the sun threaten to break the horizon, he lays the flowers on Mallory’s still chest, places a final kiss on her forehead, and leaves the room.

  It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

  He leaves his soul behind. . .

  Hidden Below

  K.A KNIGHT

  Chapter 1

  Twisting my head around, I watch our bodies moving together in the large floor-to-ceiling mirror attached to the wall on my right side. The gleam of my tanned flesh clashing with his pale skin as he hammers into me from behind has me groaning and pushing back against him. His hand twists in my long black hair, twining the thick strands around his wrist, the bite of pain making me groan loudly as it mingles with the pleasure fro
m his thick cock inside me.

  He rams his cock deep, stretching my pussy around him as he yanks me to my knees, my back to his front as his free hand comes up and cups my breast while he continues to fuck me. “See how wet she is?” he whispers in my ear, his whiskey voice rough with passion.

  I’ve known him for a while, but I hadn’t called him for a booty call...oh no. I had stumbled into him randomly at the bar tonight after going out to celebrate landing that new campaign...well, into him and his girlfriend. The girl who’s currently spread eagle in front of me, her head cushioned on the pillows behind her, her long blonde hair thrown on either side of her head like a halo as she watches him fuck me. Her toned, curvy body naked and glistening with sweat. Her thighs part more as she moans, letting me glimpse her tight little pussy, all pink and wet for me, for us. For what we are doing.

  “She’s drenched. I wonder…how does your girlfriend taste? Why don’t you let me see while you fuck me?” I purr, purposely clenching down on his cock as I undulate my body against him, rubbing seductively, my eyes staying on the woman who’s name I always forget. It doesn’t matter if she tells me it again, I would have forgotten it in a couple of hours anyway. He groans behind me, slamming inside me so hard that I moan loudly.

  “Oh yeah, he likes that idea, baby, spread those legs for me, won’t you?” I order her and she does as she’s told, moaning as she reaches up and plays with her own nipples, her eyes tracing down my body as she does so.

  He presses me down to her with a hand in the middle of my back and I go willingly, knowing I’m in charge of both of them, just the way I like it. It’s why I chose couples, a lot less drama, just one night of fun. They want to explore and I want no complications. I have a stressful enough job, and sometimes, I just need to lose myself for a few hours. Lose myself in pleasure that both women and men have to offer, and then leave when I’m satisfied before they wake up.