Cute but psycho paranorm.., p.2
Cute But Psycho: Paranormal Asylum Reverse Harem, page 2
Just then, the cabinet doors were torn open and a shrill scream ripped from my throat. I tasted bile on my tongue as Doctor Orson’s rage-filled face stuttered in shock. He was here, right there in front of me. My Orson and the monster he hid. The smell of leather and blood thick on him like demonic perfume.
I trembled under his gaze, too overwhelmed by his closeness that I couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t tell him everything was fine and to not kill me. In one swift movement he could slit my throat and yet I could do nothing but look in awe at him. His muscled body, his handsome face, his assassin’s apparel speckled with ruby dots.
“Bree,” he said with his delicious voice with its very slight middle-eastern accent, and it felt like warm, melted butter being smoothed over my back. My mind and body were in a messy tangle of fear and want. I imagined him surging forward, his blood-soaked leather gloves brutally squeezing my neck. I wondered what his beautiful eyes would look like as he strangled me, his black hair hanging in his face. A tortured man full of rage and passion all aimed at me.
I pressed my thighs together harder and restrained an inappropriate whimper. My body begged for me to move, to fight, to run but there was no place for me to go. Doctor Orson was kneeling in front of the opening in his expensive suit pants and a knife still clutched in his hands, blocking my exit entirely.
His eyes stayed glued to me, questions circling in them.
“So, you have been stalking me?” He asked incredulously and gave me a disapproving look. My eyes widened. He had suspected me?
Orson shifted back and I took the meager opening, pushing from the tiny space and scrambling away from him as fast as I could. My body and mind screamed as I imagined his hands reaching out and grabbing me, his knife slipping in under my ear and slashing across.
“Bree,” he said again, his voice sounded more like molten lava than melted butter now. I felt its heat on the back of my arms and neck, trying to burn me with its rage. I scrambled around the small room, dodging behind one of the cold bodies as if that would save me.
“Shit,” I rasped as my head swam. There was too much of everything. Too much noise from the damn cooler. Too much blood scent clogging my nose. It was making me dizzy and I gripped onto a dead body just to keep from falling over.
Orson clearly didn’t give a shit that I was currently having a moment even though it was his job to be concerned. Guess he didn't take his profession as seriously as his serial killing. He came stomping towards me with his bloody blade in his leather-gloved hand and a very murdery expression.
“Wait!” I cried. He ignored me so I darted towards the edge of the room and jolted towards the door. He lifted his leather shoe and kicked over the fresh bucket of blood, sending it splashing macabrely all over the floor. My flats hit the spilled blood, I slipped, and my knees hit the concrete hard. My palms burned from catching myself.
I was in a warm, dark puddle of blood from the most recent kill. I felt dizzy and faint as the smell and feel coated me. A compulsive desire roared inside me. I wanted to shove my blood-coated fingers into my mouth until I gagged on it. I trembled, fighting off the urge because I couldn't tell if this was the absolute worst time to give in to this strange hunger or the very best time.
I made a whiny, strained, groaning noise as I looked at the blood around my fingers. Then a leathered hand was grabbing the back of my shirt and lifting me up like I was a ragdoll. My back slammed against the metal wall of the cooler and Orson’s hand squeezed my jaw, his fingers pressing into my cheeks.
“Fuck,” I groaned, staring at Doctor Orson with blood smeared around his face. A sense of awe overwhelmed me. God, he was so handsome and strong. I couldn’t move an inch with him pinning me to his wall.
I licked my lips, envisioning him flipping me around, yanking down my leggings, and plunging his psycho dick in my wet crazy-girl pussy, taking me right here against the wall of his murder cooler, the bodies cooling behind me as he kept plunging deeper and deeper.
“Bree,” he growled, rage in his violet eyes. It was totally inappropriate to be horny after witnessing the man I was stalking murder someone. I knew that. I wasn’t a very appropriate type of girl though. My panties were soaking wet as he pushed against me, wearing the scent of blood. I leaned to the side and tried to see past him.
Yeah, four definitely dead bodies now. Part of me was scared shitless. We were at a precipice and I wanted to fall off the right side.
What was a normal reaction here? What would Doctor Orson tell me is the appropriate response? Actually, I should probably stop taking my social cues from a serial killer.
“What are you doing here?” He asked sharply and it sent a shiver of pleasure over my body to hear the tone. Normally, he was all restrained smiles and apathetic phrases. God, I liked this version of him. No, I loved it. My faulty mind was crossing wires, telling me fear was excitement and the excitement was deeply thrilling.
“You’ve ruined my plans,” he spat, his face vicious and angry. I could practically feel the energy radiating off him. It was seeping into my own body and making me feel more alive than I ever had before, panting in his cruel grip. It was as if we were connected spiritually.
I loved his hands on me. I loved his vibrant eyes boring into me, demanding answers. I loved how powerful he was.
I gasped as he grabbed me by my nape and dragged me away from the wall and towards the exit. A lungful of the freshly spilled blood hit me and induced a wave of dizziness that had me swaying on my feet.
“Wow,” I garbled like I was drugged. My tongue ran over my lips and I couldn’t deny this need anymore. It had been pummeling me every second since I’d come down here. My body swayed towards the bleeding dead man as I envisioned licking the red liquid right off his face.
“Get a hold of yourself,” Orson scoffed, tightening his hold on my nape as he opened the door and guided me up the stairs. The dominating way he held my neck was making my nipples pebble. If I lived through this I’d have his finger bruises to remember this by. I’d trace them as I ran my fingers over my wet folds.
He was so much more than I ever expected. There was no way I could go back to secretly pining and quietly obsessing. No way, because he was just like me. All fucked in the head. I had issues, but my Orson had them too. Beautiful, bloody issues that I loved him for.
There was no more wall between us. Not with his blood-soaked leather gloves biting into my neck and my knowledge of his extracurricular sins cataloged in my head.
I licked my lips as he dragged me along into his dark living room. I’d only ever seen it through the window before tonight. I eyed the spot I’d seen him sitting before and felt the need to settle my body in the same place he’d been.
His hold was brutal though, making me aware that struggling would be pointless.
“Orson, let’s talk about this,” I said, finally finding my voice. He scoffed and flung me like I was a venomous snake. I landed on his leather couch, my cheek sliding on the smooth dark fabric. The smell of the leather soaked into my nose, reminding me of his scent.
He stepped up to the edge of the couch as I flipped over and looked up at his blood-spattered suit and delicious leather gloves. He was refined, expensive, and deranged. His violet eyes were menacing and every defined muscle he hid under his clothes now seemed lethal.
He was cruel and deadly in a way no person I’d ever come across was. He felt larger than life, not even human. He was a dark angel tasked to slaughter the lambs. I trembled in fear, in awe, and in want.
“You’ve been naughty, Bree,” he said with a sinful smile that made my jaw slacken. I nodded as he swept his short hair away from his face, smearing blood in it.
This was it. This was the beginning of us.
“Punish me, Orson,” I begged, my legs falling open in invitation. His gaze shot between my legs and his eyes flared with shock.
“What?” He bit out before he let out a deep sigh. He pressed two gloved fingers in between his eyebrows and closed his eyes. He looked potentially annoyed. I chewed on the inside of my cheek.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I blurted out. He dropped his hand and looked at me silently. His face was like stone. Beautifully, perfectly sculpted stone and he was going to be mine now. He had to be now that I knew. “I’ll keep your secret, baby.”
“Don’t call me that.” He made a disgusted face. Which made me feel nasty things. Was it stupid to get angry with a serial killer looming over me in annoyance? Yep but that wasn’t going to stop me. I wasn’t good at controlling my frustrations and anger. I’d talk shit to the bitter end if that’s how this was going to go. I’d be calling him baby to the end of time now and I’d make him love it.
“Okay asshole, how about I just call you whatever I want and you put up with it because I know you have a murder cooler in your house. How about that? ...Baby,” I added with a smile. Threats were definitely not off the table. Actually, the very moment I realized Orson was the Bloodless Butcher and I’d found his lair, I almost immediately planned to threaten him.
He growled and lunged towards me, his hand wrapping around my throat as his body clashed with mine.
I screamed in shock and fear but also because I wanted to alert everyone in the world that Orson was on top of me. My body felt electric, my blood sizzled in my veins. My mouth watered and my gums itched and I felt manic and unhinged. Irony blood and musky leather scents filled my head and shook my thoughts right out.
Orson had such passion in his eyes—brutal, overflowing emotion that clawed at me. He looked on the verge of doing something wild and bad. I could barely be restrained beneath him, needing to expend all this energy.
The soft, smooth texture of his expensive shirt and pants felt divine as they tantalizingly swept across my skin. Our bodies thrashed in a violent dance—throbbing, grinding, fighting—as he grabbed my flailing limbs and held them down, his grip steel. My body was weak and his was anything but.
The smell of all the blood on our bodies swam in my head like a brain-eating amoeba chomping away gray matter. I was hardly ever hungry but right now I was ravenous. There was a black hole in my stomach, sucking my organs in.
Orson held me down and lifted his wrist to his open mouth. The moonlight shone on his mouth as he opened wide. Sharp two-inch-long fangs I’d never, ever seen before extended down in his mouth in an instant. My mouth dropped open in shock. He plunged into his wrist with a grunt as his body lowered fully onto mine.
He was bigger than me—stronger, heavier. His hard muscles and soft fabrics pressed on every inch of me. I felt dizzy and faint. What was happening? What was he doing?
Orson shoved his wrist against my lips without any gentleness, forcing his blood to coat my mouth messily. It was surprisingly cold and rich as it soaked into my gums. My body throbbed and something changed inside me, a switch flipped. Crystal clarity came over me, sharply focused on exactly one thing: blood.
I latched on and sucked. My tongue lapped and pleasure rippled inside me. Orson groaned and I felt him harden between us, his growing erection pressing into my stomach. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything but be a slave for the red gore staining my teeth and slipping down into my gut. My throat worked it down, wave after wave of delicious blood.
Orson pulled his wrist back and I longed to have it again, to taste him, to ingest him but he held me down easily. Then suddenly the edges of my vision felt dim and my body began to burn painfully. It felt like bleach was in my veins and I hyperventilated as I felt it reach my heart.
His face floated into the middle of my vision, a sick delight on his face that made me feel panic. The sound of static thrummed loudly in my head and it felt like it was erasing who I was.
“Somethings wrong,” I gasped as my blood burned through every vein.
“You’re mine now, Bree. Forever,” he said with a sinister smile and deranged eyes. My eyes flicked between his in confusion. What did he mean by his? The way he said it stank of ownership and no one, not even my precious Orson, would ever own me.
I’d lie for him. I’d put up with his aggressive, violent nature. I’d sweep his serial killing hobby under the rug. I mean who doesn’t have some bad habits? But if he thought for one second he owned me then he had a rude awakening coming his way.
With that in mind, I clung to consciousness. My veins sang with an unending burn. Doctor Orson got up and looked down at me with a satisfied smile as if he was pleased with himself about this.
“Sleep,” he insisted, his voice a peculiar purr. A strange pressure came over my body and then it felt like his fingers were in my skull, pressing into my brain. My eyes closed and I drifted somewhere between awake and asleep, fighting hard because despite my feelings about Orson, he was a very dangerous, sinister man and I had no idea what he intended for me except ownership and that was not how this was going to go.
My eyes popped open and I realized I must have fallen asleep against my best efforts. The sky was gray through the windows, the room swamped with shadows. Orson was gone. I shifted up, my head whipping around and straining to hear any sign of him. He was somewhere—I could hear movement—but not here.
I bolted up and ran as fast as I could. The burn in my veins was gone but the taste of blood still lingered between my teeth. My tongue licked at the taste unconsciously as I ripped open the front door frantically, bubbling energy propelling me forward.
The screeching sound of bugs assaulted me. The bright moon glared. It was peaceful and made me feel like an alien in a strange land. It all felt so normal and unchanged but everything had changed. Everything.
I stumbled forward, down his long driveway trying to reach the edge, trying to get back to my car parked at the street. His property was secluded and huge. I pushed my legs, my thighs burning but I’d never been very good at running. I’d always been frail and weak. My thin pale skin and my sad little muscles gave away how I treated my body. Like something to ignore more than nurture.
I panted, my fingers shaking as I squirmed into my car and pressed the ignition start. My hand snapped the car in drive but then I screamed as Orson was suddenly in front of the car, smacking the hood so hard the banging rattled in my head. His eyes were dead pools of purple.
“This minor inconvenience is a little petty, don’t you think?” He asked with a blank face. I shook my head, unsure what to say. Unsure how to deal with this man in his unmasked state.
He looked over towards the horizon where the first signs of morning were beginning. Then his eyes turned back to me and a wide smile stretched over his face. His eyes didn’t connect to the action. He moved away from my car and motioned for me to go.
“Go ahead Bree, I’ll find you tomorrow. There is no escaping me now. There never was. Run off and try to save yourself. I want you to because I need you to understand that you can’t. That no one will believe you. You’re insane, remember? I’ve made sure to catalog it in your files.” He broke off with a wide smile.
“Tell everyone the Bloodless Butcher is your therapist. I want you to realize that your freedom was an illusion that I’m now taking away.” His words pushed into my brain like a needle, dispersing the truths that rattled me. This man was not anything like what he had pretended to be and the damn thing was that it excited me.
I pressed that feeling down because right now it was time to drive away. Right now I had to come to the sharp realization that I wasn’t his predator, he was mine. Fuck if that didn’t warp in my brain to something good. That it meant he wanted me. That he’d come for me. That he’d never let me go.
My foot pressed on the gas and I sped off. I wanted to have him on me again. To have his blood slipping down my throat. To see that crazed look in his eye. Those jumbled tumbling thoughts did something terribly inappropriate to me.
I kept racing away though, with dried blood on my face and knees, because what I didn’t want was to be tied up and caged. I didn’t want to be owned and that burning, rageful spirit inside me that demanded freedom was stronger than my carnal, obsessive desire. For now at least.
Orson and I were obviously connected more than I thought and it made me smile as I drove home. In my head, this meant we were together, a couple. We were, weren’t we? He said as much. If he thought that would scare me he didn’t know me as well as he thought.
A laugh burst from my mouth. He said I was his forever? Oh, he had no idea what he’d just chained himself to.
My car stopped in front of the house and I dragged myself inside. It felt like wading through thigh-level swamp waters. The tiredness I’d managed to fight off was back fiercely, pressing from my bones out. I knew I needed to do things. To clean up, to figure out a plan. Orson had power over me and I had to find a way to even our power.
Did he really think no one would believe me if I told his secret? Ridiculous. Mental health disorders or not, people would have to listen to what I had to say. The entire world wanted to know who the Bloodless Butcher was. He’d been terrorizing our town for three years but terrorizing the east coast of the United States for much longer.
I stopped in the hallway, putting a hand on the wall to steady myself. The Bloodless Butcher had been active for over fifty years. That didn’t make sense. Orson only looked about forty. I swallowed and the thought drifted away with my exhaustion.
My thin slip-ons left bloody footprints on the taupe carpet upstairs as I moved towards my room. My body flopped in my bed and there would be no battle to sleep tonight. I was just so tired. Too tired to stay awake and make a plan. Too tired to think at all. After a few hours of sleep, I’d figure it out.
Chapter Two
Six months ago
Bree barged into my office with a look of taunting satisfaction on her face, pleased to have made me wait and then tumble in with the grace of a wrecking ball.
