Haunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet Book 1)

by H. D. Carlton

  “Little mouse,” I call, my voice hoarse with need. Her hips still, and her eyes creak open. “Run.”

  Her eyes pop open, and her breath stalls. A moment passes where we’re both frozen in time, and then she springs into action. I hiss from the sensation of sliding out of her, and then she’s catapulting towards the end of the bed.

  She bolts out of the room and guns for the stairs. I stay right at her heels, enjoying the startled screams that slip from her throat every time she sees me so close.

  Purposely, I let her run, my cock hardening further from the chase.

  My little mouse loves to be scared. And I get off on making her so.

  Barreling down the stairs, she aims for the back of the house. I grin when I realize exactly where she’s going.

  I let her get to the hallway before I snatch her up, relishing in the bite of her nails in my arm.

  “Trying to relive a favorite memory, naughty girl?”

  She growls in response, kicking her legs at air. I nearly bust into the sunroom, the beauty of it lost on me when I hold the most precious gift in my arms.

  I drop to my knees and twist her around, laughing as she struggles. “Feel familiar?”

  “Zade!” she cries with indignation, but I don’t give her a moment to get her bearings. She’s on her back in a matter of seconds, staring up at me with wide eyes.

  “Let me know which stars you prefer. The ones above you, or the ones I make you see.”

  And then I’m driving into her tight heat, not giving either of us a moment to prepare for it. She cries out, her back arching and her claws sharpened as she scores them down my arms.

  “Jesus fuckin—” her words are cut off from another sharp thrust, a moan replacing her sinful words.

  I shudder, my control completely in tatters as I drive into her, fucking her so hard that I’m forced to keep dragging her back down towards me.

  Sharp screams fill the air and there’s a moment where the pitch is so high, I fear I broke something inside of her.

  But then her pussy clamps tight, making it almost impossible to move before she comes around my cock, her body nearly convulsing from the power.

  My name falls from her lips, but I can’t stop. The sound of our skin slapping and her garbled words bounce off the windows surrounding us as I continue to slam into her.

  Her tiny throat is in my hand, squeezing until she can no longer utter a word. A hand wraps around my arm, branding bloody crescent moons into my skin as she fights for oxygen. I’ll gladly sacrifice my name on her tongue if it means climbing up to heaven with her.

  I bare my teeth, intense pleasure racing down my spine and building at the base.

  Fuck, I feel the explosion right at the precipice. Parsons Manor will always be destined to be the house that burns and takes lives.

  “Give me another, baby,” I urge, my other hand reaching down until my thumb circles her clit.

  Her face pinkens, nearing red when she falls back over. I release her throat, the dizzying rush from lack of oxygen coupled with her orgasm has her back coming entirely off the floor. Like a woman possessed, she clings to me, as more scratches are torn into my skin.

  Gnashing my teeth, I sit back, bringing her squirming body with me until I’m kneeling with her legs wrapped tightly around my waist.

  She gyrates down onto me relentlessly, riding out her orgasm and pulling me down over the edge with her. I come with a roar, clutching her to my chest so tightly that we’re both only capable of small, jerky movements as we grind into each other.

  I lose myself. My name. My identity. My soul. It’s been hurdled away into the vortex our bodies have created. Like being sucked into a wormhole and kicked out into a new universe.

  And when we come down, the stars surrounding us suddenly look so dull and lifeless compared to the ones shining in her eyes.

  “I have an extraction tomorrow. It’s what I’ve been building up to for months now,” I say, my fingers tracing across her bare back. “It’s going to be pretty dangerous. I just want you to be aware of that.”

  Addie’s head lifts, her face much more visible now that we’re in a room housed in windows. I can see the barest hint of the freckles dusting her nose and cheeks, and I want to kiss each and every one of them.

  We collapsed after I fucked us both stupid, and neither of us has felt inclined to get up since.

  “Is it the rituals?”

  I nod and tell her all about the night I had. She was aware of the fucked-up dinner party, and when I tell her it was successful, her face softens with relief.

  “I can’t wrap my head around people actually doing that. People just came over and sat at that table as if they were going to eat fucking lobster tail?”

  “Yeah,” I murmur. I bite my lip, a shit-eating grin already forming on my face for what I’m about to tell her. Her head just settled back on my chest when I say, “The little girl I saved, Sarah? She asked if I’d be her daddy.”

  Addie’s head snaps up so quickly, she comes close to breaking it.

  “Careful, this world would be in trouble if you died.”

  Her mouth flops. “What did you say?”

  I shrug. “I didn’t really get to say anything. She had to leave so I could go get fake arrested. If I didn’t, Dan and the Society might’ve found the raid too convenient. Luckily, I was able to play it on a charge that Dan has gotten in the past.”

  She blinks. “Would you? Adopt her, I mean?”

  I lift my hand, gently swiping a lock of her hair from her face and curling it behind her ear. She tries to hide the shiver, but her body is pressed too closely into mine for it to be successful.

  “I wouldn’t do anything without your say-so. But yes, I would.”

  She swallows. “Why do you need my permission?”

  “You think I stalked you just because I wanted a quick thrill? No, baby. It’s you and me forever. Which means if I become a daddy, then you become a mommy.”

  Her eyes widen, and what looks like panic flashes in her irises. I curl a finger beneath her chin and land a quick peck to her lips.

  “Don’t worry ‘bout that right now. Sarah is safe, and at the moment, we’re more worried about her trauma and getting her mental health taken care of.”

  She nods, though I don’t miss the lingering look before she settles back on my chest.

  Chapter 41

  The Shadow

  “Y

  ou ready for tonight?” Jay asks in my ear.

  “I’ve been ready,” I answer easily as I pull up to the gentlemen’s club, Savior’s. The Society choosing this club as the front for an underground dungeon must be their version of a sick sense of humor.

  I slip the earpiece out of my ear, stuff it in my inner suit jacket, and then make my way up to the entrance.

  The outside of the building is like any other high-priced strip club—a marble black monstrosity that drips money and power. The security guard standing outside of the doors gives me a once-over, before putting me through the customary what’s your name and let me check your asshole. Cough once.

  Unlike Detective Fingers, this one actually manages to keep his hands in the safe zone and lets me through without a hitch.

  For obvious reasons, I’m not permitted to carry firearms on me. But that won’t be an issue.

  After Mark confessed the location, several of my men were able to infiltrate the security detail hired for this club.

  Powerful men and women certainly wouldn’t be showing up to kill children if they didn’t feel protected while doing so.

  Security is required to carry firearms, and I have it on good authority that some of them might let me borrow a gun or two when the time comes.

  Just like when I was here last time, when I walk into the club, it feels like walking through a portal to hell. It's stifling in here, the air so full of depravity and sickness that it's a physical weight on my shoulders.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  I feel like I need a godd
amn gas mask.

  I walk directly into the main area, the massive layout an open concept. It's dimly lit and ominous—the perfect place to hide in the shadows without being noticed.

  The floors are black marble, and unlike the seedy strip clubs downtown, these floors shine as brightly as my freshly polished shoes. The blood red walls are bare of creepy art, but plenty of creeps occupy the booths and tables surrounding the stage. A woman swings around the pole, shaking her ass to the beat while money is thrown on the stage.

  Low music pumps through the speakers, though not so loud that I can hardly hear myself think. Loud moans ring out from somewhere down a hallway, and I make sure to stay far away for now. If I go back and see some fucked up shit happening, I'm going to blow the entire thing.

  "For a second, I thought you weren't going to show up," a voice says from behind me.

  I turn to see Dan standing there, peering at me with a satisfied grin on his face.

  "A man can't enjoy some strippers after getting arrested?" I retort, my tone laced with dry amusement. Dan laughs and shakes his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

  "I still can't believe that happened. I am so sorry. Every man on my lawn got fired that night, I assure you."

  I flash my teeth. "I expected nothing less. What charges did they try to pin on you?"

  "Fucking drug smuggling," he scoffs in that can you believe that shit way. "I haven't had a line of coke up my nose in months, and it sure as shit wasn't my product."

  I quirk a brow. "What happened to the girl?"

  His face darkens, and for the first time, I see true evilness reflecting back at me. I knew it was there, residing just below the surface. But this is the first time Dan truly let that hateful demon out.

  "I believe one of my guests took advantage of the chaos and stole her for themselves.”

  “The cameras?” I push.

  He shakes his head and spits, “Fucking ruined. The FBI must’ve done something to mess with the signal when they came. Probably because they weren’t authorized to kick down my goddamn door. Regardless, the little girl is gone, and ninety-thousand dollars went down the drain.”

  My displeasure is prominent as I say, "Do you have any idea who it was? I would love to talk to them about stealing from me."

  A smirk forms on his face. "As soon as I have confirmation, I will let you know. Otherwise, keep the beast contained." He pats my chest and motions towards an empty booth. "Let's have a drink. The ceremony won't start for a few hours."

  "Lead the way."

  "So, my wife said that she's going to leave, right? I told her there isn't a goddamn inch that exists in this world where she could hide, and I couldn't find her." He finishes his statement with a huff and shake of his head, boggled that his wife would even try to find a happy life somewhere else.

  Somewhere that doesn’t involve eating children for dinner. And whatever else sick shit they do to them in the meantime.

  "Women like to run, but they like to be caught even more," I murmur.

  He looks at me, a wicked grin curling his lips. "Exactly, man. Too bad the bitch isn't worth chasing. So by the time I catch her, she's going to wish she did find that inch. You know how exhausting it is to be married to someone who doesn't share the same tastes as you? I've tried to initiate her several times, but she refuses. Can you believe that?"

  How does someone with a shred of decency even answer that?

  You don't.

  I shake my head casually, taking a sip of my whiskey. Addie's grandfather has better taste than these old dicklickers.

  Glancing at his Rolex, he motions for me to follow as he stands. "It's time. Let’s head on down," Dan says, swallowing the last of his whiskey before setting the empty crystal glass on the table. He turns and checks out a passing stripper, his eyes leering on her exposed backside.

  "And when we're done, I'm going to take a bite out of that one next. These initiations always get me in the mood."

  The whiskey in my stomach sours.

  Swallowing down what I really want to say, I motion for him to lead. He saunters towards the hallway where the moans are emanating from. Steeling my spine, I follow after him.

  We enter through a hallway riddled with doors on either side. The moans escalate, but now that I’m closer, I hear the notes of fear and pain laced in them. Cracks of whips, flesh hitting flesh, and the loud grunts of men accompany the moans.

  Fuck. Think of the child lying on a stone altar somewhere. They need me more.

  At the end of the hallway is a black marble door. Dan wraps his fist around the knob and pauses before peering back at me, his lips curled with excitement.

  “You ready?”

  “Considering I was teased last night, I’m more than ready.”

  Dan flashes a malicious smirk before opening the door. I'm met with a dark hallway, scarcely lit by dim LED lighting on either side of the floor.

  The hallway is long and almost feels never-ending. And it seems the further we walk, the narrower it grows. But it's just my mind playing tricks on me.

  At the end is another marble door. I glance back and notice we were going down a subtle incline, where I see a small group of men coming down the hallway in the distance.

  Dan opens the door, and we're greeted by a room full of people. The black marble extends into the room, but the walls are rock. On either side are long rows of familiar black robes I've seen in the last few videos. The people gathered in here are speaking in low tones, slipping on the oversized robes.

  My heart pounds, almost in disbelief that I'm finally here. The moment I've been working towards for so long.

  It's surreal.

  "Grab one," Dan orders, his tone serious. Without a word, I unhook a robe and slip it on. The material is silky smooth, but it feels like I'm wrapping myself in wool. Despite my large stature, the material still hangs past my feet and hands.

  "This another newcomer?" a nasally voice asks from my left. I turn to see a weasel of a man standing next to me. He's at least a good three feet shorter than I am, with a receding hairline, a hooked nose, and round glasses.

  "I am," I answer cryptically. "And you are?"

  The man smiles nervously. "Also a newcomer. My name is Larry Verenich."

  "Zack," I offer.

  Several robed figures start pouring out of the room through another black door straight ahead.

  "Let's go," Dan says, nodding his head towards the group.

  As I approach the door, a low hum gathers at the base of my neck, causing the hairs to rise. The room is just like I've seen in the videos. It’s like walking into an underground cave, only instead of moisture in the air, it's dry and heavy. The dark space is lit by hundreds of candles lining the rock walls. But the small flames are no match for the oppressing shadows.

  We're on a rounded platform, a simple black rail as a barrier to about a forty-foot drop. In the center of the room is a stone altar, a wriggling little girl on top of it. Black straps circle her tiny wrists and ankles, keeping her in place.

  She can’t be more than six or seven years old.

  The hum grows louder until it sounds like it's coming from inside my own head. My hands clench beneath the fabric, and I'm only thankful that the sleeves are long enough to hide my reaction.

  "To your left are the stairs," Dan says, pointing in the direction. “Go ahead and stand by the altar. One of you will be offered the knife to bleed out the sacrifice. Drink the blood, and you will be initiated into the Society."

  I nod my head and take off in the direction. The rocky, uneven stairs are just around the bend, where Larry is already heading.

  I lift the hood over my head, glancing around the areas until I spot the security guards—three of them on the bottom floor where the altar is, hidden off in the shadows. From my vantage point, I'm unable to see their faces. But I know Michael is one of them.

  Two other men follow behind me as I make my way down the steps. The minute my foot hits the ground, a low chant begins,
gaining in pitch as I approach the altar.

  I stare at the little girl on the stone slab, tears tracking down her dirty cheeks. She's sobbing, her little lip curled in a frown as her wide blue eyes stare at us in absolute terror.

  My heart constricts so tightly it's debilitating. By sheer willpower, I force myself to stand still.

  "Fuck, I'm already getting hard," a guy whispers from my left. My teeth nearly crack from how hard I clench my jaw in that moment. Slowly, I turn to see a guy that looks like he's in his early twenties, his hood down. His brown, bottomless eyes glance up at me, and all I can see is pure excitement radiating from them.

  He's going to be the first one to die.

  He’s close enough that he can see my face, and I work to keep it neutral. He grins at me, but I give him no reaction. And though his smile falters just a little, the sick fuck has no idea that I just did him a huge favor. Because had I reacted, I would've reached down his throat and ripped out his windpipe with my bare hands.

  "P-p-please, I want my mommy,” the little girl begs from below me. Her red and puffy eyes are full of tears and she’s staring up at me with terror and desperation. Her little lip trembles, and I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out and grabbing her tiny hand in my own.

  “Pleeaasssee,” she cries, her blues full of tears, despite the rivers streaming down her cheeks. “I wanna go ho-oome.”

  Snarling, I force my mouth to stay shut. More than anything, I want to reassure her. Comfort her. Promise her that she will get to see her mother again. But I can't allow any of those words to escape.

  Not yet.

  The chant around us grows louder, building until it feels like the cave vibrates from the sound. But it’s muted, like I’m under water. All I can concentrate on is the small girl pleading for my help.

  I'm staring at her so hard, trying to convey the assurances in my eyes, that I don't even notice the black figure that approached until they’re right before me, standing on the other side of the little girl.

  Their face is hidden in the depths of their hood, and black gloves cover their hands. I've no idea if this person is a man or a woman, or how significant they are.