Chapter 8

Rath.

F!ck! Her honey pot was tighter than I thought, it took me all my strength to not go all the way.

The grip of a human pu$$y is out of this world, so tight, so warm, so fking good. I had no other option but to send her out of my room, for her sake. I could have done worse. The aloe syrup would wear off any moment from now. She wouldn't be able to last another penetration. She was busy whimpering and pushing me by just the tip. Beyond that after the aloe wears off, would have been hell for her.

The feel of her hair on my hand was soft, her scent was all I could smell. She smells sweet, delicious... mouth-watering.

I have to stop thinking about her.

As I returned from the bathroom, the bloodstains on the sheets seemed to stare back at me, a silent reminder of the... intimate moment I'd just shared with my wife. I briefly considered snapping a picture for future reference—just to have it documented before it got cleaned. But then something... odd happened.

The bl00d started to spread. It didn't do what bl00d was supposed to do. Instead of soaking into the fabric like any normal, tragic mess, it moved deliberately—like it had a mind of its own. It expanded in perfect lines, forming a circle. Then, another circle appeared, smaller and nestled inside the first. And then, a third. Ancient symbols began to materialize around each one.

This wasn't just bl00d anymore. It was something else—something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

This couldn't be right. Human bl00d doesn't behave like this. What the hell was Dahlia?

"Billie! Do you know what this is?" I called, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

Billie appeared from the shadows, gliding across the room like she had been waiting for this moment. She stopped beside me, her sharp eyes flicking over the scene with a detached curiosity.

"I've never seen this kind of writing before," she said. Her gaze never wavered from the symbols. "I'll need a closer inspection. I'll give you feedback by nine p.m." She reached out and carefully took the sheet, folding it with precision before exiting the room without another word.

I was left alone, staring at the strange patterns on the bed as a sense of unease settled in. I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as my mind raced. What had I read in Dahlia's file again? Raised in a cult, yes, but cu.lts didn't leave survivors after mass suicides, did they? So how did she survive? Behind her sweet, innocent face, there was something more. Something deeper. Something I needed to understand.

---

Crack. Crack.

The sound of shattering glass cut through the silence, pulling me from my thoughts. My heart leaped into my throat, and I stared into the darkness, my mind scrambling. What had I just heard? I lay frozen in place for a long moment, trying to steady my breathing, waiting for the sounds to reveal themselves again.

But then...

It was just a dream.

**********

Dahlia.

The morning sun bathed the room in a warm, golden glow, filling me with an uncharacteristic sense of excitement. As I slipped into my yellow polka-dot dress, its cheerful pattern lifted my spirits, like I was embracing the day.

The golden necklace around my neck added just the right touch of elegance, and as I picked up the curling iron, I could feel a spark of joy at how easily the curls fell into place on my first try. A matching polka-dot bow completed the look, and I clapped in delight, smiling at my reflection in the mirror.

I hurried downstairs, eager to catch my husband before he left for work. His mysterious occupation—especially in a world filled with magical creatures—only added to the intrigue. But as I descended, my thoughts lingered on Billie. There was something more to her that met the eye. Her warmth and the effort she'd put into learning sign language spoke volumes, but there was a robotic stiffness to her actions that had me wondering what lay beneath.

With pen and notebook in hand—my only means of communication with my husband—I searched for him in the kitchen. When I didn't find him, I spotted him outside, seated at the dining table, deep in conversation with Billie. Gathering my courage, I stepped into the sunlight, feeling its warmth brush against my skin.

Both their gazes turned toward me, and Billie gave a slight nod to my husband before quietly stepping away. My husband's eyes traveled from head to toe, lingering on me with that blank, unreadable expression. I pulled out a chair and waved a quick greeting, but he only watched me, his expression unchanging.

After several drafts, I finally wrote out my question. I took a deep breath and handed him the notebook.

The note read:

Hey, I don't know how to ask this. Can I look for a job or something to do? Sitting around the house is a little boring. I would appreciate any job.

His eyes skimmed over it quickly before he scribbled a response, then passed the notebook back to me.

"HELL NO!"

I stared at the note, shaking my head in confusion. His answer made no sense.

"If it's money you need, I'll give you that," he wrote with a firm tone. "This isn't human territory. Things are different here. Humans aren't... appreciated on this side of the world."

I tried to communicate with my expression that it wasn't about the money. I wrote back: I could water and tend to the garden.

" STAY AWAY FROM MY GARDEN YOU LITTLE GREMLIN!"

Frustration bubbled inside me. What was his problem? Without thinking, I grabbed the orange juice and tossed it at him, watching as it splattered across his crisp white shirt. He stared at me, wide-eyed, stunned by my boldness. I grabbed a piece of bread, tossed it at him, and for good measure, smacked his cheek with a banana before standing up.

He gaped at me, half-amused and half-stunned, but I didn't wait for him to react. I was already heading back inside, a surge of satisfaction mixed with defiance rushing through me.

Before I knew it, he grabbed my wrist and executed a swift move that had me flipped onto the table. My hands were pinned above my head as he poured orange juice over me, mimicking my earlier attack. Then he smacked my cheeks lightly with the bread, and even the banana, with exaggerated flair.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Now I have to change my shirt because of you."

I bit my lip to suppress a laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. But then, his gaze softened, drifting down to my cleavage before returning to my face. His eyes were mesmerizing—those thick lashes framing them made my heart flutter.

My gaze drifted to his lips, then to the faint stubble along his jawline that only added to his rugged charm. I silently hoped he'd never shave it off—I could almost feel the scratchy roughness under my fingers.

"Stop it!" he said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I raised my eyebrows, feigning innocence. He stood between my legs, his body pressed against mine, and I could feel something hard against me. I tried to wiggle free, and he shot me an exasperated look.

"Stop jiggling your melons like that—it's seven in the morning, for heaven's sake!"

I froze, heat rising to my cheeks as his words hit me. I hoped I hadn't misread his lips, but the way he said it—there was no mistaking it. His expression was dead serious, though his voice carried a strange mix of annoyance and something else I couldn't quite place.

Then, something utterly fascinating happened. His eyes flashed, and for a split second, his irises shifted to a golden hue, shimmering in the morning light. They were the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen—like molten gold catching the sun. The intensity of the color made my breath catch in my throat.

And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. His eyes returned to their usual piercing blue, the strange glow fading like a memory that never truly existed. He released my hands and took a step back, walking toward the house, his movements purposeful, unbothered.

As I sat there on the table, still stunned, I couldn't help but feel captivated. Those eyes—those golden eyes—they were going to haunt my daydreams.

I was becoming more and more intrigued by him, by his kind, and the mysterious, otherworldly things I was just beginning to understand.