AkumaQuil

Rose stood defiantly, eyes locked onto his golden ones as she lifted the hem of her small top, exposing the smooth expanse of her stomach before peeling the fabric over her head.

The red glittering bra shimmering under moonlight as if made for this very moment.

She ignored the tremor of anticipation curling in her gut. None of that mattered. Not even the reckless haze of drugs clouding her thoughts. Tonight, she was in control.

This was a mission. A mission to keep his attention solely on her so could save her friend from his curse.

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts, her breath steadying when she saw him go rigid. Shoulders squared. Posture tensed. Not in fear. Not in disgust. But in something far sinister.

His Interest.

“Yes… feast your depraved little eyes and filthy mind on this,” she whispered, smirking as the shorts fell away, pooling at her ankles. The silky red thong clung to her hips, the moonlight accentuating every curve of her body.

She flicked the discarded clothing aside, shifting her weight slightly as she let her nightly visitor drink in the sight of her naked glory.

His posture no longer that of boredom. Good. That was exactly what she wanted. More like, what intoxicated, irrational Rose wanted.

She twirled, giving him a deliberate view, rolling her hips just enough to torment. “Since you’ve made my life a living hell, I might as well return the favor.” She cast a wicked smile over her shoulder. “Consider this my gift to you—one you’ll never get to touch.”

By the time she turned back, her stomach plummeted.

He had moved.

No longer a distant silhouette in the meadow—he now stood at the edge of her patio. Much closer and so much real.

The thrill that had fueled her was fading slowly. Had she just made a mistake playing this game with her stalker?

Swallowing hard, she lowered herself onto the chair, parting her bare legs wide and letting the wooden cross dangle before her barely covered cherry, in a taunt.

A silent challenge.

His fingers curled around the wooden rail, veins standing taut against the black ink of his tattoos. His chest rose and fell, controlled but heavier, as though restraining something barely contained beneath his skin.

"Want a taste, my dear stalker?" Rose whispers

She had him pinned.

Or so she thought.

Her shadowy visitor moves. Slow, deliberate steps leading closer.

Panic slammed into her. No.

Rose bolted upright, pressing the cross against the glass door separating them. “Stay back!” Her voice wavered a bit. “I swear, I’ll burn your stalking ass right where you stand!”

He stilled.

A beat of silence.

Then—

A low, quiet chuckle rumbled through the night air, reaching her ears like smoke. Deep and Dark.

Her stomach twisted. The sound was foreign, yet eerily familiar. As if she had always known this was how he would sound.

His hands rose in mock surrender, his hooded head tilting slightly, as if entertained by her little performance. Then, as effortlessly as he had closed the distance, he stepped back.

Rose’s breath fastened.

She was playing with fire, willingly, by provoking the one who comes out at night and remain in shadows.

And he was enjoying it.  



==

In the embrace of her ancestral town, Rose seeks refuge from the echoes of her past. 

Little does she know, her return to her roots will awaken dormant shadows, shattering ordinary her existence. 

For when the darkness falls over the town, from the pitch black rises a shadowy figure that haunt her nights. 

In the darkness he sweeps her off the ground in terrible fear and the allure of sinister intrigue.

And once the sun comes, a man with a god awful attitude, haunts her in the broad day light. Causing her to swell with pure disdain. 

With each passing night, it draws closer to Rose, casting a chilling spell that both terrifies and exhilarates her.

Thrust into a labyrinth of mysteries can she navigate the treacherous path laid before her, or will her nightly visitor consume her whole?

He Comes At Night

My arms were locked around Aria like a vice as I half-dragged, half-carried her down the hall to my room. She flailed against my grip like a fish out of water, protesting dramatically, but I wasn't letting go.

"Ro Ro, you can't just confine me to a room like a prisoner! I have rights!" she slurred, squirming.

"Yeah? Well, right now, your only right is to shut up and sleep this off," I grunted, pushing the door open with my foot. "I have other important matters to deal with, and I can't be babysitting you all night."

The guilt was gnawing at me—I hated doing this to her, but I couldn't let her wander around the house, not tonight.

Not when he was out there, lurking. Knowing Aria, in her current state, she'd probably storm outside and challenge him to a duel or something equally stupid.

Sober Aria was reckless enough; high Aria? A disaster waiting to happen.

Sober or high; just the fact of her discovering the fact that he comes out every night to watch me, is disastrous enough.

I dropped her onto the bed with a huff. She flopped like a rag doll, her head hitting the pillow with a dramatic sigh. "Ugh, so rough. At least buy me dinner first."

Rolling my eyes, I pulled off her shoes and forced her to lay down, tucking the blanket around her snugly like she was a child.

She clutched the big wooden cross she had grabbed earlier, holding it to her chest like some kind of perverse love token. "Mmm, if only you knew the things I plan to do with this later," she purred, waggling her eyebrows salaciously.

I groaned. "Oh, for the love of—go to sleep, Aria!"

Satisfied that she was at least secured to the bed, I exhaled and turned, my gaze instantly flicking toward the curtains. Still drawn. Good.

That was a relief. At least one thing is going my way tonight. I guess I have the paranormal in my house to thank for that, for not messing with me for once.

I had enough on my plate tonight without worrying about her seeing him and having a full-blown meltdown.

Just as I reached for the door handle, Aria let out a delighted sound that sent dread curling through my stomach. Should I turn around for this or should I just leave her to her own devices?

She's not gonna be a danger to herself right? She's just high, not suicidal.

"Ooooh, Ro Ro! Look what I found! Let's do some more!"

Every muscle in my body tensed. I knew, I just knew, exactly what she was talking about before I even turned around.

Aria was holding up another little white packet, identical to the one I had just found in her bag earlier.

My eyes widened in horror. "Where did you get that?"

She giggled. "In my back pocket! I forgot about it! C'mon, let's have a blast, Rosie! I haven't done it in *ages*! Just the two of us? Pretty please?" She batted her lashes at me, lips pouting in what was supposed to be an innocent expression, but she was so obviously high it just made her look unhinged.

I stared at her, incredulous. "You already did it, you dumbass! I'm the only sober one here, let's keep it that way before we both set the house on fire!"

"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" she drawled, waving the packet in front of me. "That would be such a loss for your evil, witchy lair—"

"Give it to me, Ari!" I lunged for it, trying to snatch it out of her hand, but she was faster—or maybe just sloppily unpredictable.

She cackled and jerked it out of my reach, rolling onto her side like a child refusing to share their toy.

"You're so bossy," she whined.

"Don't make me say it again." I commanded using my authoritative voice.

And honestly, even I didn't think it would have any effect. So imagine my surprise when she dramatically sighed and held it out, pouting. "Fine…"

119. High Aria