Copyright © 2025 by Eva Rebiuh

Book design and cover created by Eva Rebiuh

Interior character art done by Eva Rebiuh
Formatting performed by the author
Stock images licensed through Canva
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without
written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations
in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.
First paperback edition September 1st 2025
ISBN: 9798287112325
Imprint: Independently published
Instagram: author.evarebiuh

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 CONTENTS

PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ADDITIONAL/FUTURE WORKS BY THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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OceanofPDF.com
 PROLOGUE
My nostrils fill up with the scent of fresh blood. I’m wiping my
lips with the tip of my tongue. One fast movement and then I brush
my lips together, like I use to do when I am wearing my red lipstick. I
swallow the mixture that forms in my mouth, and I want to move
away from the warmth of his body.
So... this is what blood tastes like. What makes them enjoy it,
though?
He likes my bite because I feel his other hand move directly to my
hip, holding me still, close to him. I can feel his jeans tightening
around his arousal. My spine straightens at his touch.
"Did you just bite me?"

I release my hold on his arm resting on my chest, and I turn to look

up at him. I bit a vampire, huh? 'the fuck is wrong with me… Now I
have to kill him.

You are probably wondering how I ended up in this situation...

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 CHAPTER 1

I twist the little bone three times.

One.Two.Three.
The pins on the disc pluck the steel comb's teeth. The music box
starts to produce a series of melodies in Halloween tones. Hex
jumps from the bed and rushes towards me. He rubs up against
my black woolen sock with his entire little body. I set the music
box on my nightstand.
One week until Halloween.
"No breakfast!" I put my long hair, blessed with the raven's shade,
into a messy bun. The skeletal hand clip pulling all strands off my
back. And I watch the poor creature attempting to attract my
attention.
"You leak, which is why my carpets are stained." The bathroom
door opens for us and he tries to follow me inside. "Will you watch
me pee too?"
I push away the pile of bones with my foot and close the door. I
turn on the light and a bat immediately takes off from my
windowsill. Even though it's early in the morning, the darkness
doesn't seem to want to leave the path to brightness.
 Steam is forming a dense fog that completely covers the
mirror and drips onto the sink from the black edges. As I wipe
away the water with the tips of my fingers, I notice in the
reflection a piece of paper glued to my window glass. My damp
hair slams against my back as I turn. With one hand holding the
red towel still over my breasts, my feet move slowly toward the
window. I open it and grab the paper, allowing the steam to
escape from the bathroom.
"You look good in red."
What the hell? I toss the note onto the sink and dive into my hair
routine. As I brush with fervor, strands become a whirlwind of wild
determination.
"Neo? You have another rose at the door." I am sure Zilla’s
scream just woke up the entire neighborhood. I drape a black silk
robe over my shoulders and open the door. Hex instantly leaps to
his feet, purring. He touches my leg with his rib cage. One by
one, the curved bones gently caress my skin.
"Fine! You can have your breakfast in a second." My fingertips
scrape his skull.
I put the Ouija board on the hardwood floor and kneel before
it. My fingertips touch the planchette.
"Are you here?" A sudden drop in temperature. A prickling
sensation on the skin. The window veil moves slowly. The pointer
shifts upward to the right and halts on the sun. YES.
"Are you leaving me notes?"
It shifts, angry, my hands up to the left side and stops on the
moon. NO.
"Do I know him or her?"
He keeps the planchette on NO. I feel his odd pressure, like an
invisible presence standing just outside my line of sight.
"Is this person dead?"
He pulls my arms across the board and stops on YES. The
bathroom door opens and snaps closed. I stand up and walk in. A
bat is drawn on the mirror’s condensation.
"A vampire?"
YES. Comes across as written on the mirror.
"Thank you!"
The pointer starts to navigate over the letters on the board. I
hurry my steps back into my room, curious about what he wants
to say.
"Neeeeeeeeeeoooooo???" Zilla’s voice interrupts the ghost.
Damn it!
Half asleep, I wander to the kitchen. The sound of the cat's
paw bones echo through the house. Treading on the dark wood
floorboards to the rhythm of the tones the music box creates.
The aroma of invigorating brew is filling my senses. My
housemate Zilla makes the best coffee. The scents flowing in the
kitchen always makes me want to try her lattes. I take out the cat
food from the fridge. It is the only thing Hex cannot open. He
always steals food and leaves it on the carpet.
"He already ate. Two times..." Zilla walks into the kitchen cradling
her emerald amphibian. Another one she saved a few days ago.
She is a vet, so animals... alive or dead, are always in the house.
She is the reason Hex is still around us.
He was… is my black American short-hair. He died because he
actually ran under a passing car. Now he is just a cast of bones,
like those suspended on metal mounts in the museums. Although
he is a cat… his appetite is prehistoric, rivaling that of dinosaurs.
What is causing him to remain "alive" other than Zilla’s
enchantment? Welcome to Mournton. The grieving town. Because
every deceased person or animal remains a mourned host in our
community. Regardless of whether someone hauls their cadavers
to the other towns. Phantoms lurk around every corner in this
haunting locale. Shadows whisper secrets, and echoes of the
past dance in the air. Here, spirits roam and share their stories,
ensnaring the curious. The presence of the spectral is both
chilling and captivating.

Our coven is strong enough to keep them close. Even the most
mischievous spirits find a home among us. Poltergeists. And I am
blessed/cursed enough to have one after my ass most days.
Hex’s soul takes a detour into uncharted territory, while his bones
dance among my ankles each morning.
"You have another rose at the door."
"And another note… but this time I was naked in the shower while
he watched…"
"Damn… It’s bad, Neo…"
I fill my pumpkin-shaped mug with hot coffee. "Do I have to kill
him?"
Zilla laughs. "Oh Coven help me… You won’t feel sorry after he is
dead-dead."
I roll my eyes at her. It is bad. Zilla is right. Obviously... she
is always right. Her small frame and bright orange hair draw
energy and wisdom from the autumn sun itself. Ideas are included
in each freckle that is drawn on her perfect nose. I swear on the
Moon, this girl is the smartest witch in our Coven-I watch as she
gives her toad a kiss-and the weirdest one.
"Animals are waaaay better than men…" She spins and leaves
the kitchen, Hex purring at her, carrying on with his feast, which
suddenly tumbles to the floor between his joints.

Brown or black.
I am contemplating in front of the mirror which pair of boots to
wear today. Dressed in a black long-arm shirt, black high
stockings and a woven brown miniskirt. My hair drapes freely over
my back, merging effortlessly with the raven shirt. I tilt my head,
gazing at my legs reflected in the mirror. Black-my ever-reliable
choice. With a swift motion, I grab my bag and keys. A handful of
treasured cookbooks from my grandmother fill my arms. Then, I
step out into the cold.
The darkness looks too indolent to take its leave. Bathed in
the soft glow of vintage streetlights, my walk to the shop feels
serene. Each time the wind whispers to the trees, leaves tumble
like confetti, crafting a vibrant carpet of orange and yellow
beneath my feet. Glistening spider webs, jeweled with raindrops,
dangle from the fences. Ghosts crafted from old bed sheets hang
from the twisted tree branches. Reminding me of skeletal fingers
controlling the marionette's cords. A scarecrow stands to my left.
Stitched together from torn burlap, its eyes seem to track my
every move.
 Bats sway from hidden cords, their wings agitating the
disorder of the gusts. Jack-o'-lanterns grin with a sneaky look on
every ledge, filling the air with a burnt pumpkin smell. The perfect
Halloween tableau.
I take off my headphones as my spine begins to tingle and
check my shoulder to see if there is anyone behind me. A light
sensation at the base of my neck—a hint of worry that slips
beneath my skin. My footsteps echo a little too loudly against the
pavement, and suddenly I am aware of the rhythmic beat of my
own pulse. The feeling of someone following me grows heavier,
like an invisible weight pressing against my shoulders. Nothing
but shadows.
"I can feel you!" I turn completely, rising my voice to no one. The
brisk air fills my lungs. And as soon as I turn around to proceed
with my walk, I smack into a tall, powerful as hell form garbed
fully in black. He holds a helmet tightly as we crash into one
another. His unkempt black hair falls on his forehead as he leans
his head to look down at me.
"I’m sorry!" My voice slips from my lips. I gaze up at him, eyes
memorizing the tattoos covering his neck. I bite. Pierced with
black ink into his skin. A bat with its wings spread right next to it.
A vampire. Fantastic. "I thought someone was following me…" I
move my thumb over my shoulder to show him the path behind
me.
"Was it?"
Oh, for the Covens sake… deep voice.
"Sorry?"
"Following you." his fingertips slide that coal hair atop his head
and he fits the helmet on, locking the chin strap.
"I guess not…" I walk past him. "Have a nice day!" Cigarette
smoke with notes of amber, blood orange, wood and leather
contribute to his wild scent. I try to catch another glimpse of him
with the corner of my eye but he is already turned and looking at
me walking away.
I smile when I hear his motocross bike revving up.

As soon as the store's door chime sounds, I wrap the red

chewy sweet in its packaging and clean my hands. Laughter and
banter fill the shop. Footsteps echo around the space. Holding
fast to the black cloth, I make my way to the front of the store.
Two of the dudes are carrying a collection of sweets to the
register. A guy is propped up against the door with his arms
folded over his chest, a red lollipop already resting on his lips. He
is the only one I recognize. Obviously, he opted for the sizzling
bloodsucker. Vampires—I roll my eyes—my new recipe; I used
real blood in the mix. I expect it to be a chart-topper this year. As
the fourth one spots me, he leans into the counter. With a flirty
poise, his elbow finds a home on the warm wood. Slowly, he
unwraps the candy, unveiling the scent of fresh blood.
"I liked you better in red."
The very same rascal who watched me shower this morning. I
inhale deeply and gulp down all the unkind words my list carries
for him.
"Stop it!"
"What." He laughs.
"Stop stalking me and leaving roses at my door!"
"Mmm, no! You see…" His tongue licks the candy. "You are going
to be mine. To play with… to…"
"Get out!"
His deep voice slices through the silence like a sharpened blade.
One I'd definitely use to sever the jerk's throat. The stalker looms
small next to the imposing figure I met this morning. His blue eyes
rise to meet him; his smile slips from his features.
"Nox… what? She is a fucking toy!" he removes his elbow from
the counter and walks out, followed by the other two.
"Did he touch you?"

I look up at him, into his dark, irate eyes.

"He was here two days ago buying candy... left me notes and
roses after… watched me shower this morning…"
Silently, he covers the cost of all the sweets and walks out of the
shop.

I sprinkle a line of salt across our doorway and windows

while chanting a protective spell. A spell calling upon the power of
the sun to weaken them. The silver rings on my fingers start to
irritate my skin. At the end, I express my gratitude to any deities
or energies that may have assisted me.

I spend the night with my knife resting like a silent guardian

on my chest. Twisting and turning, my legs move restlessly
beneath the sheets. I am too afraid to close my eyes.
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 CHAPTER 2

"N eo? You have a gift."

I wrap the silky robe around my body and walk into the
kitchen. A coal box with a bow in the same shade is placed on the
table. Zilla is smiling. "Good morning! First flowers and notes,
now gifts?"
I release the air trapped in my lungs since I left my room and I
unwrap the ribbon.
"For the Moon’s sake!" Zilla screams and runs to the sink to spit
out the coffee. "Are those real eyes?"
The surfaces of the box are splattered with blood. Removed
from the body, the eyes are situated in precise alignment on a
black cushion. The cornea is vulnerable to dehydration. The optic
nerve serves no more function, atrophy occurring with every
second. His once-blue irises are dimmer, gore tainting their tint.
The metallic odor of copper wafts from the box, making Zilla feel
nauseous again.
"I recognize them..." I look over to Zilla. "These are the eyes that
watched me shower."
 With the package held tight, I speed down the street hoping
that nobody catches the sight of the blood. I wonder if the eyes
are spinning on the cushion and slamming against the box's walls
with every step I take. Stuffing it full was like trying to fill a
bottomless pit. Biding my time for him to show once more, I stop
in the same location we crossed paths yesterday. Should I leave
the box here? What if someone else finds it… it has my
fingerprints on it... Damn it! I tilt my head to look at the brick
building beside me. Yesterday he came out from it.
"Mornin’, nightshade!"
His voice sends a shiver cascading down my spine. Like phantom
fingers dancing lightly across every single vertebrae. I turn my
head to the left, and there he is—nonchalantly settled on his
sleek black dirt bike. His helmet sits firmly in place. He is a
shadow in every way. As dark as night.
"What the fuck?" I approach him and hit his chest with the box.
His eyes won't leave mine to look at anything else. Towering in
front of me, he stands up.
"What makes you think it was me?"
"You ki… You know what’s in the box!"
"Not here." He has a haunting voice. One that crawls and glues
itself in your inner ear.
"Oh, sorry I'm in the wrong place, murderer!"
He inhales.
"Sit."
"What? No!"
"I'll take you to your shop, we can talk there."
"Sure… kill me, dump my body in my cauldron and boil me after."
He removes his helmet and hands it to me.
"Sit!"
"I am wearing a skirt…" Holding his helmet against my chest, I
glance down at my legs and then up at him once again. He hands
me his hoodie after removing it. A black T-shirt covers his torso.
Both his arms are covered in tattoos. But I spot the veins,
perfectly sculpted under his colored skin.
"Take your skirt off."
"Excuse me?"
"Put this on. Take off your skirt. My hoodie is big enough to cover
you completely."
"Fine... turn around!"
I slip into his hoodie. The scent of cigarettes and perfume
intertwines, baptizing both my hair and skin. I let my skirt fall over
my boots and glance up through my long black hair to see him
observing me.
"I said, turn around!"
I know I am burning in his dirty mind.
He kneels before me, drops the box on the ground, reaches
over and puts my hand on his shoulder. One after the other, he
lifts my feet by grabbing my ankle and helps me out of my skirt.
"Have you rode before?" He stands up pulling his hoodie over my
thighs with his fingers. "Bikes." A playful smirk surfaces on his
lips, crafting dimples on both sides of his cheeks, and I catch his
tattoo moving as he swallows.
"You are going to be my first."
He chuckles. His white teeth showing off his fangs. Hot.
Annoying. Annoyingly hot. He approaches me and removes his
helmet from my grasp with one hand while tucking my hair behind
my ear with the other.
"Your piercing might bother you while wearing the helmet."
"Then you wear it."
He clicks his tongue.
"You are not riding without it." He puts the helmet on the bike and
brings his fingers to my ear. As he removes my earring, his cold
fingertips are gently touching my skin. He then brings it to his
mouth. Disgusting. His existing one merging with mine now. Two
silver ball closure rings piercing the web of skin beneath his
tongue. Hot.
"I don’t know if you are aware, but you have the option to put it in
your pocket."
"And lose it? No way." He snatches the helmet and puts it over
my head.
"What about the… box?"
"What box?" He locks the chin strap probably too tightly under my
chin.
"Funny." I nudge the package with my boot. He thumps my
forehead gently with his palm, to ensure the helmet is in place,
and my head jerks back from the impact; he picks up my skirt and
the box and hurls them into his bag.
"Front or backpack?"
"What?" The helmet makes my voice sound deeper and more
muted.
"Definitely front." He positions himself on the bike and taps the
seat in front of him. Between his legs, I sit. His hands grasp my
waist and he yanks me in, until my lower back connects with his
body. At the jolt, my hand automatically clutches his thigh and I
stare down at his leg. At my hand that lays on his leg. And the
only thing I can think of… besides the sensation of gradually
feeling horny… is that I want to take my knife to cleave the skin
that my fingers touched.
He inclines closer, gently shifting his hands from my hips just
above my thighs, pulling down the hoodie. I take my hand away
from him. Uncertain, clasping them on the leather between my
legs. His chest hovers alarmingly near and the cigarette scent
envelops me like a fucking blanket. His thighs press against mine.
He makes sure the bike is in neutral, he checks that the fuel
is turned on. Sets the kill switch to the run position and places his
right foot firmly on the kick-start level. Holds the front brake for
stability. I swallow. With determination, he slams the pedal down
using his foot. Slightly poised on his feet, the bike doesn’t start at
his first kick, so he adjusts the throttle and tries again. I swallow.
Again. My whole body is moving at his commands.
As the engine starts, the quiet street is filled with its roar. He
tweaks the throttle to keep it running smoothly, letting it to idle for
a minute, for the engine to warm up. He settles, chest against my
backbone. His tattooed hands grip the handlebars, anchoring me
between them. My eyes wander over the intricate designs
painting his skin.
"What do they mean?"
His jaw grazes the arch of my neck, just above my shoulder.
"What do you think they mean?"
I angle my head, and the helmet is resting against his cheek.
"Well… the ‘I bite’ and bat tattoo is about being a vampire, right?
The other ones can mean anything… or nothing." I return to my
initial position, looking at the empty street in front of me. Hands
weave through my hair, right under the helmet. His fingers dance
along the strands, untangling knots with a delicate caress. He
starts to split it into three equal sections. Is he braiding my hair?
"What are you doing?"
He switches back and forth between the right and left parts over
the middle until he gets to the ends of my hair. When finished, he
tugs the whole braid into the hoodie and I can feel it tickling my
spine.
"I don’t want your hair flying into my mouth while we ride."
He slowly eases the clutch while twisting, sending power to the
rear wheel, preventing stalling. With every effort, the veins on his
hands protrude through the tattooed skin. They make me want to
reach out and touch them with my fingertips. What? No!
The bike kicks off, and his body feels like a load on my spine
as he leans in. My cheeks are burning. I sense I’ll need the
Moon’s magic and my Cone’s strength to kill him. Why is my body
burning? Because he is cute, ok? Now shut up.
"Eyes up." I see him checking out my legs while I get off his bike.
The hoodie is over sized on me, but it won’t shield my long
stockings as I lift my leg and he spots the lace.
"I like lace."
I take off the helmet and give it to him.
"I didn’t ask."
As I walk to the shop, I can sense his eyes on me, which puts a
playful smile on my lips. My hand flips the key in the lock and I
turn my head to see if he is coming inside. His strong scent hits
my face. He stands so close that the coolness of his half-dead
body mixes with the warmth of mine. He puts a cigarette between
his lips.
"You know that it isn’t helpful, right?"
"It halts my craving." His voice issues from his mouth, in the
breach between his lips and cigarette.
"Craving what?"
"You."
I twist my body, directing my gaze upward to him. A sly smirk
dances on his lips, at the right corner.
"Fuck you!"
He lifts his hand just above my shoulder and retrieves the key
from the door, nudging it open.
"I am wearing rose."
"I sensed that."
"And?"
He leans closer, drawing the cigarette from his mouth and wafting
the smoke into my face. "And? Did you assume that laying wild
roses on our resting places was going to stop us from rising as
vampires again?"

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 CHAPTER 3

S he exhales the smoke that fed her lungs. Irritated, turns

around, her braid swatting into my chest, and walks into her
shop. "Asshole!"
I laugh and sling the backpack over my shoulder, trailing her
inside, my starved eyes stare at her tiny body shifting under my
hoodie.
The wood creaks beneath me. Sweet wafts of sugar and
icing mingle, chasing away my smoke. The floor and windows
showcase carved pumpkins, some of them already burnt. I close
the door and the little witch appears before me, holding out a
silver knife. The very weapon once, or twice... killed me.
"Sit!" Her voice is irate, steel ready at my chest.
"Should I switch the sign to ‘Closed’ since we’re getting busy?"
"I am going to stab you!" She glides the blade’s tip against my
sternum. Meanwhile, her other hand probes, hunting for the faint
echo of my heartbeat. She’s so fucking sexy. Fuck. I’ll need the
entire pack of cigarettes to calm down. Damn it! "Sit!"
"Fine. Let’s play." I obey to her request and sit on the chair she
now points her sharp blade at.
"Take out the box!" She folds her hands under her breasts,
drawing my gaze like a fucking magnet. My eyes land on the lace
stockings, tenderly hugging her thighs.
"Please?" I sink into the chair.
She emits an irate sound and rushes to me, prepared to seize the
bag. I drop it to the floor, nestled between my legs. She comes to
a stop in front of me, and I grip her waist, hauling her onto my lap.
She moves quickly, pressing the blade to my throat.
"Let go of me!"
"Now, little nightshade, what would you like to know?"
She sways her hips against me attempting to break free from my
hold.
"Do you want to welcome an additional player to the game?"
"What do you mean? Let me go!"
"If you continue that, you’ll be greeted by someone." I look down
at her legs on either side of my frame. Her gaze drifts at our
connection and I release her waist. In a heartbeat, she stands
tall.
"Oh for the Moon’s sake!" She inclines towards me, the blade
stabbing into the flesh of my chin.
"Bending won’t help either." My smile gets under her skin.
"You know what? I’ve heard that torture helps a lot in situations
like this." Her knee applies pressure on my bulge. "Now,
handsome, pick up that damn bag and take out the box. And my
skirt!" As she presses her knee into me and the blade against my
neck, I sense my blood streaming, tracing the lines of my neck.
"How exciting! I had no idea vampires can bleed. Are you ready to
spill some for me today?"
"Will you make candy from it? I’d adore to see one resting
between your lips."
Her hand inches forward, the knife’s tip slicing a precise line in
the tissue. The sound of tearing skin resounds between us. I take
in her smile—violent and vulgar. Just the way I like it.
She comes to a stop. Her skin fades to a ghostly hue; hands fall
to her sides. The blade clatters to the floor, echoing a chilling last
word.
"What’s wrong?" I support her jaw in my palms as I stand.
"Someone is here."

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 CHAPTER 4

T he lights begin to flicker. With a resounding thud, one jar of

candy corn shatters on the wooden floor. I snatch his hand,
leading him towards the second room. As we step into the dim
hallway, the lights turn off, plunging the entire shop into darkness.
The door slams shut with a deafening bang, its sound making my
skin tingle. A slow, deliberate knock.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each thud rattles through my chest. The round, golden handle
quivers, not turning—just trembling. Someone on the other side is
debating. This darkness is thick, swallowing every shape, every
outline. The world around me shrinks to the sound of my own
breath, the knocks. My pulse hammers in my ear.
I am not afraid.
I am angry.
This motherfucker ruined my game.
My nostrils fill up with the scent of fresh blood. I’m cleaning
my lip with the tip of my tongue. One fast movement and then I
brush my lips together, like I use to do when I am wearing my red
lipstick. I swallow the mixture that formed in my mouth, and I want
to move away from the warmth of his body.
So... this is what blood tastes like. What makes them enjoy it,
though?
"Did you just bite me?"
I bit a vampire, huh? 'the fuck is wrong with me… Now I have to
kill him.
His voice is close to my ear. Way too close. The darkness
envelops us both completely. I can’t find him all covered in black,
but my body can recognize his warmth.
"Now you know how it feels." My voice echoes inside the whole
shop. Damn the ghost that brought us here together… and took
down the electricity. I hate the darkness now. I hate ghosts. They
always play as they wish.
I release my hold on his arm resting on my chest, and I turn to
look up at him.
He moves closer.
"Don’t fucking touch me!"
"I can’t see you…"
"You can’t? Aren’t your eyes depicted with distinct
characteristics?"
"Ok… You got me."
I panic. He can see me. I can picture him in my mind… looking
down at me. Now I have to bleach my eyes… and my mouth.
When did his arm get on me?
But...
He likes my bite because I feel his other hand moving directly to
my hip, holding me still, close to him. I can feel his jeans
tightening around his arousal, right under my lower back. My
spine straightens at his touch.

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 CHAPTER 5

"C ould you explain the bite? I am very curious."

"I had to make him go away."
"Him?"
The entry bell tolls, and the front door creaks open.
"Neo? Good morning! Oh, what happened, dear?"
Her attention is drawn by the elderly woman looking at the candy
corn spilled on the floor. The lights switch on again. She looks up
at me, her eyes fixed on the blood staining my neck. Her fingers
seize the collar of my shirt, yanking me down to her level. She
parts her lips and with a slow lick, she brushes some of the blood
from my skin.
"For the Coven’s sake! It won’t… never mind. Stay here! Don’t lay
a finger on anything, or I’ll have to cut it!" She detaches from my
shirt and walks to the storefront. She beams with delight, guiding
the lady through her candy choices. I lean against the door, arms
crossed, embracing the moment’s sweetness. From behind the
counter, whenever the woman is not paying attention, she gives
me a deadly glare. I lift my hands in surrender and smile. She
rolls her eyes.
She makes her way back to me as soon as the woman walks out
of the store. Her eyes are pointed at the open box in front of me.
"I told you not to touch…" As a snake prior to the strike, her form
leaps at me.
I laugh, raising my arm with a playful gesture. "Did you stuff the
box with your lingerie?" She is too small to even dream of
reaching my hand. It’s a fun moment, with her jumping for her
lace thong.
"Put it back!" She stops bouncing and looks at me frustrated.
"This is mine now." I tuck the strip of ruby lace into my pocket.
"Are you going to wrap it around your cock while you stroke
yourself to sleep?"
"You’d love to know that, wouldn’t you?" A scrumptious bit of
need, for sure. The same thought crossed my mind; I admit. But
when she spoke it aloud, tension thickened in the air. She
removes the remaining lingerie from the box, one of the eyes
glued to a sock. Her red lips emit a noise cloaked in disgust. Her
hand wafts the sock into the air and the eye lands on the floor.
"Why did you kill him?" I toss the eyes into the bin.
I don’t know when she reclaimed her little weapon, nor do I
care. Honestly, I enjoy the thrill of it being aimed at me. Again. By
her. I slide my hands into my pockets and approach her slowly.
Her spine hits against the table’s edge. The moment she looks
up, her eyes capture my soul. Framed by long lashes covered in
thick black mascara, her flawlessly straight eyeliner adds drama
to her face. In an instant, I lose my shit entirely. The knife found
its home just above my collarbone. Its cold edge pressed to my
skin.
"Would you have liked to be his next target?"
"I can stand up for myself against idiots, just fine." She brings the
sharp tip to my tattoo and scratches every single letter inked on
my skin. "How did you kill him?"
"You want the whole story, don’t you?"

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 CHAPTER 6

"E very single detail!"

He smiles. His white teeth showing off those annoying fangs.
Sitting on the table, his elbow brushes against my arm. I press my
finger to the blood on the end of my blade. His blood. I could
preserve and add something to it, to kill him more easily. I could
sew a doll, coat it with his blood, and torture him by stabbing the
doll with heated needles.
"Well…" The vampire pulls out the lace from his pocket and twirls
it between his fingers. I launch the knife, a precision strike to his
thigh. The blade bites through his black pants, connecting with
flesh. "Ouch!" he raises an eyebrow at me. No discomfort, no
daring jumps. Looking disappointed. Bored by my action. I grab
the thong from his hand and loop it around the weapon’s handle.
"Start talking!"
"Hot."
"Start talking, bat boy!" I apply pressure with my hand on the grip,
penetrating deeper into his leg. Do I need to toss in some salt to
make him speak?
"Bat boy…" his hand envelops mine, pressing down. "That’s what
this tattoo signifies." He hoists my blood-stained hand and places
it on his neck. Smearing his own blood on the wings of the bat
inked into his skin. "The last words someone said to me before I
killed him."

Is he out for my blood?

Coexisting under a fragile truce, the magic kept the two worlds
separate. Their craving for witches grew. Using them for pleasure
and their strong blood. With each drop their strength multiplied.
The balance shattered, igniting an unstoppable cycle of
vengeance. Witches cursed their own blood, twisting it into
poison, weakening the immortal bodies. Hatred festered, growing
deep between the two species. The vampires hunted down every
witch they could find, draining their blood, feeding it to the
ground. Vampires hunting witches. The witches becoming hunters
of vampires. The young were raised on tales of slaughter,
forbidden to speak of peace. Until one night, under the red
eclipse, a witch and a vampire met by chance. Their destinies
entangled into love. Generations passed, and the hatred turned to
legend. However, we train with precision to bring them down.
Their quest for blood remains relentless. A fragile red thread
binds us to this unyielding war.

Murder isn’t strictly off-limits, as souls lingered like shadows

between us.
"I killed him because he aimed to hunt you. To use you like prey,
draining your blood for his own dark pleasure." His voice is more
of a whisper. Set to prowl, stalking your dreams. "He acted
possessed. His conversations swirled around you. He dreamed
about you. Cravings consumed him, hungry for your presence.
Neither of us bothered with any of it. But…"
"Again… I can stand up for myself against idiots!" I move two
paces away from him, but he grabs my wrist.
"You can show appreciation with actions if words are too difficult
for you to use." A smile spreads across his face, revealing fangs
as sharp as spikes.
I grab the knife’s handle and twist the blade in his leg. "I just did!"
I haul it up and wipe the blood on his jeans.
I keep moving toward the front of the store. As the sun
begins its playful dance between the wooden blinds, light streams
in, casting striped shadows across the walls. Illuminating the jars
filled with different candies. I kneel on the floor and begin to
gather the shards that previously made up one of my favorite jars.
"You’ll..."
The glass slides over my finger. Cutting a straight line into
the skin. Caught in my tissue, I feel a sting and blood already
collects around the tiny piece. Cold sweat drapes my brow, and I
look up at him. Shit! Blood and a vampire… Shit! Shit!
He takes out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. With a
flick of his thumb, he ignites it using a metal lighter. He lowers
himself in front of me and clutches my hands in his. The smoke
escapes from his lungs, gradually flowing from the edge of his
lips. And I remember him saying: "It halts my craving."
His, maybe… but the front door swings open with a bang, and the
other one storms back into the shop. One of the carved pumpkins
rolls over the ground.
First, my jar, now my Jack-O'-Lantern too. Seriously?!
The ghost smiles. His pale gray shade allows you to see
right through him. Towering in front of us, his hands are clenched
into fists. Two darkened sockets are where his eyes once were,
dried blood smudged under them. His neck skin bears chain
marks on it, and I see Nox arching an eyebrow at his form. So…
that is how he killed him. I stand up, Nox following my
movements.
"I think you two have unfinished business to discuss," I tell them.

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 CHAPTER 7

O f course he came back to her…

She folds her arms beneath her breasts and looks up at me.
"You look… pale…" The exclusive trash that flows from my mouth
makes Neo release a long sigh while rolling her eyes. "I can see
right through you…" I wave my hand attempting to indicate
directly to him but my finger slips straight into him. Neo’s eye
snap wide open, and she glares at me. Her gaze sharp. Touching
the ghost is similar to the feeling of cold whiff that escapes when
you crack open a freezer.
"Can you really see straight through me? Now that’s just wild!" He
laughs. Neo is confused. I just don’t give a fuck. "Man… being
dead…" he sits on one of the wooden boxes. "...dead- dead is
amazing. I can flow through walls. I am not craving blood… But I
am horny." He turns his head to Neo.
"You can’t even see me, you idiot!" She moves over, pausing at
my side. The previous vampire stands up, rubbing his palms
together. I step ahead of Neo, shielding her whole body behind
me.
"Now, Nox… let’s play with her."
"She already did with me."
"Damn dude… I saw her first."
"It costed you... your eyes."
"Oooh, I don’t take used toys. Did you fuck her?"
Neo steps ahead of me, seizing my shirt and pulling me down to
her. "I was about to ride him." She snatches the cigar resting
between my lips and she presses hers to mine. Her tongue sliding
between my lips, seeking the warmth of my own. I hoist her up,
and her legs encircle my waist. She moans on my lips. Spicy
strawberry lip gloss seduces my senses, tickling my tongue.
Hands hold my jawline, the smoke kept safe between two of her
fingers. Eyes lock onto mine. Neo’s magic thrums through me,
and I feel an unexplained attraction. My fangs ache, my senses
tingle again. I am trapped, helpless against this force. One wrong
move… I am possessed. She pulls away from our kiss, and I feel
my body burning.
"Put me down."
A moment passes before I yield to her request. I have to comply.
Yet, I don’t fucking want to.
"He left."
I put her down, and she wipes away the red lip-gloss smeared on
my lips. Her flavor lingers on my tongue and I savor every drop as
I swallow.
"What the fuck was that?"
"I am not his anymore… I don’t know if it’s a stupid vampire
thing… but he left… you marked me… I don’t know… I am sorry!
It’s the only thing that came to my mind… to get rid of him."
I slide my hands into my pockets. Hopefully, she won’t notice my
hard cock. For fuck’s sake.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 8

F orty-eight hours have passed.

Resting between the black sheets, my eyes are glued to the
ceiling. Hex’s cold bones are rubbing against my cheek. Why, you
wonder… we share the same pillow. Yes, I am sleeping alongside
a collection of wiggling bones every night. My finger scratches the
smooth skull, right above where his little nose once was. He
purrs; the bones in his neck vibrate with joy. Quickly, he springs
up, eyeing the window and unveiling his fangs. Arching its spine,
the hiss itself is a clear signal of distress.
I lift myself on my elbows, and the shady outline of
something on my windowsill disappears.
"Don’t worry…" I stand up and scoop Hex up into my arms "…
they can’t get in." We walk to the window, and I pull aside the
sheer drapes. Outside, the full moon casts an eerie glow over the
misty street. Twisted, skeletal trees claw at the sky, a sudden gust
of wind rustles the leaves, dancing under its cold rhythm, carrying
whispers with it. A dense fog rolls in, swallowing the dim
streetlights and turning familiar shapes into ominous shadows.
The distant toll of a broken church bell echoes. It’s midnight.
Just for a second—I catch a glimpse of a shadow darting
between the trees, elongated fingers curling around the trunk
before disappearing into the night. I put Hex on the bed and take
my knife from the drawer.
The dark floorboard creaks beneath my bare feet. Ahead,
the darkness is alive with shadows, stretching and curling in
unnatural shapes. Something scuttles in the corner—too fast to
see, but loud enough to make me turn my head. I rush to the
entrance and turn the key in the lock. Hex runs between my legs
out into the street. The pavement beneath my feet is rough,
uneven and cold, draining the warmth straight from my skin. The
silence is suffocating—no distant traffic, no rustling leaves now,
just the eerie weight of the night pressing on my shoulders.
Streetlights flicker weakly, casting warped silhouettes that seem
to stretch toward me, shifting when I am not looking. The air is
thick, carrying the scent of damp earth, smoke and something
metallic. I know I am not alone. The feeling of unseen eyes
settles on me, heavy, watching from the shadows. Hex brushes
its ribs against my ankle. Cautious, spine arched.
"Do you see someone?"
He replies with a negative nod.
A stillness so odd is sealing my ears. A shape shifting too subtly
for my logic to grasp.
"I can feel you!" I yell into the emptiness.
Hex takes off and runs inside the house, and I am left hanging
with whatever is out here. Rain starts to dribble over my body. I
hide inside.
The house groans under the weight of the storm outside,
rain tapping against the windows in an impatient rhythm. The dim
hallway stretches ahead. The door of my room slams shut, but I
never heard footsteps entering. That’s the worst part. I know
someone is inside now. A distant creak. The floorboards upstairs
groan under the shifting weight. The presence isn’t just another
intruder. It moves like it belongs here, like it’s been waiting.
There’s a familiarity in its steps, its scent.
I catch a glimpse of it in the dim lighting—its figure stretches
and wraps in the shadows, something not quite right about the
way it holds itself. Like the shadows and darkness itself belongs
to him.
"Hide or seek?"
The voice. Quiet, sickly sweet, curling around the words in a way
that sends ice down my spine. He knows me. Not just that I am
here—but who I am. A sudden shift. Its head jerks toward me, a
movement too sharp, too unnatural. Then, ever so slightly... He
smiles.
The game starts without warning. I am not supposed to be a
victim. He is supposed to be my toy. I run upstairs. I press myself
into a closet, hands clamped over my mouth to suppress the
uneven rhythm of my breath. Silence hangs heavy. Then… the
creak of my door opening.
His voice—low, steady, amused. "Come out, come out…" The
footsteps stop. A low chuckle. "You can’t hide forever. You played
so well today." I squeeze my eyes shut, willing to disappear into
the shadows. The closet door is thin. Too thin. I swear I can feel
the coldness of his presence just beyond it, lingering in my room.
His hand is grazing against the wall, fingertips trailing along the
surface like it’s savoring every inch of the space. A knock. Gently.
Playful. Right against the closed door.
"You know what is the best part?" His voice tilts with wicked
delight. "You’ll come for me, nightshade. And I’ll be waiting."
The presence vanishes the moment I focus on it.
A predator crafted from darkness itself wants me.

This is the light of protection, of purity. As it covers the darkness,

so it brings safety to me.
I run back down and seal the door tight. I anoint the doors and
windows with the mixture of boiling water, fennel, oats, pine and
sage. I keep my eyes wide open through the night.
Where light dwells, all darkness flees. Spirit move away from me.
This home is mine, I will not fear, your presence is not welcome
here.

"Is the maze finished?"

I stir the hot coffee with a teaspoon. The silver glides through the
dark liquid, creating slow, swirling patterns as steam coils
upward, curling and fading into the air. The rich scent of roasted
beans, warm and earthy, fills the space.
"Chocolate grazed cocks."
I raise my eyes to Zilla laughing at me. Her hair, like burning
embers, is cascading over her shoulders. Still draped in her
midnight purple robe, she tops off my pumpkin-shaped mug with
more coffee. "Happy to see cocks attracted your attention…" She
walks to the counter and grabs a plate with two cinnamon rolls on
it. I spring to life as soon as she lays—loudly—the plate in front of
me.
"What?"
"What happened last night?"
I sink my teeth into one of the rolls; the dough burns my tongue.
"Another stalker…"
She hops up on the counter. "Neo…"
"I know…"
"At least the last one is dead… dead."
"No… this one is different…"
"Different?"
"Scary but he keeps his distance."
She arches an eyebrow at me. "And the vampire?"
I take another bite. "I’ll thank him for his service." I can’t let her
know he is allowed into the house at night, as he wishes.
She laughs. "I know you too well… with your knife?"
I gulp down some coffee and wink at her.
"Holy shit!" Her laughter spreads throughout the whole house.
"You’ll never see him again."
I raise my shoulder and stand up with the mug perched between
my lips.
"Oh, you have another gift at the door. After the last one, I’m
steering clear of your shit for good."
Each step toward the front door feels heavier than the last. "The
maze is finished." I tell Zilla. My fingers twitch as they reach for
the handle. Placed on the ‘trick or treat’ doormat, the elegant
black box is bigger than the last one. The wind slowly touching its
ebony ribbon.
 Shaking hands grip the edges of the box and walking with it
turns an ordinary stroll into a balancing act. It is heavy. My
shoulders pull slightly forward to counter the weight. Too afraid to
shift my body too fast. I put it on the kitchen table. I hesitate at
the edges now, tracing the flaps but not quite gripping them. The
box sits in front of me—silent—but my mind twists the curiosity
into horrors. My fingers find the soft, satiny ribbon, its texture
smooth against my skin. I give it a gentle tug, watching as the
bow unravels with an elegant ease—first one loop slipping free,
then the other. The black ribbon releases its grip, cascading onto
the table. The lid of the box now sits unfastened, waiting. I lift it
slowly, the faint whisper of cardboard shifting fills my ears. I look
inside—layers of raven-shade tissue rustling softly as I push them
aside.
"Any body parts?" Zilla enters into the kitchen with her hand
covering her mouth.
"It’s a jar…" I lift the big glass container into the air. It doesn’t
quite match the other ones, but it is bigger, the vintage design
making it exceptional. And I know exactly who sent it. He is
playing.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 9

C atching sight of her walking into the street at midnight, with

that very blade she had once carved with into my neck,
makes me smile. Wearing nothing but a silky black nightgown.
This curious dance of hunger and pleasure ignited a playful spark
within me. I like to play and she is set to slay whatever is in front
of her. I long for her, a craving that can’t be ignored. I’ll be her toy
while she’s my prey. Her game with my rules.

To keep my distance from her will make my insides rot. She

transformed into all I wish to observe. Everything I want to taste. I
want her fingers to dig into my skin. The tattoo machine’s needles
can’t appease my thirst. I let out the smoke held for too long
inside my lungs and look at the teeth marks now inked into my
skin. Stalking her starts to be boring. I want her. I want her to beg
for me.
"What happened with your neck?" Colette’s voice is louder than
the machines buzz. Her navy eyes elevate to mine as she takes a
moment from her tattooing. Cleaning the blend of blood and ink
from my skin with a white paper towel.
"Women…"
She bursts out laughing, displaying her fangs decorated with
silver rings and I can’t help but question how she can feed with
piercings inside her teeth. She adjusts her pink medical gloves on
her fingers and reengages in tattooing me.
"I heard the maze is finished. We can all go tonight."

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 10

T he fog curls through the maze like a living thing, weaving

between towering stalk of dried corn that sway gently in the
damp air. The corn maze hums with excitement under the glow of
flickering lanterns. Scattered along the winding trails are
skeletons half-buried in the ground, shouting at you as you stroll
by them. Somewhere in the distance, a haunted soundtrack
plays, an uneasy mix of laughter and distant howls.
The dirt path winds ahead, flanked by towering walls of
golden corn that rustles softly in the wind. My each step crunches
against the earth, the occasional dry husk brushing against my
arm as I navigate the twists and turns. Zilla stayed to drink her
favorite apple punch and talk to the owner. I can hear motor bikes
halting not far away, so I quicken my pace. I don’t want to be
alone in the maze with vampires at play.
I glance over my shoulder. Just rows and rows of endless
corn and then I hear it—just a faint rustle behind me, barely
noticeable over the breeze weaving through the towering stalks. I
am sure it’s just the maze shifting around me. But now, another
sound—a footstep, distinct, deliberate. I move faster. My black
boots sinking into the damp soil. Turning a corner, the corn walls
press in, narrowing my world to winding dirt paths and stalks that
sway like silent watchers. Another turn, another twist, and yet the
footsteps don’t fade. A shadow flickers at the edge of my vision,
disappearing between the stalks. I take out my knife, and a cold
palm presses against my mouth, pulling me between the corn
plants. He holds me close to his chest.
"Shh!"
His breath brushes the tip of my ear, and I observe the tattoos
adorning his arm. The smoke billowing from his lungs is
shrouding my view. Two men walk by, wearing masks.
"I saw her entering the maze, she can’t be far."
He removes the strain from my lips and turns my entire body
around as soon as the men walk away. I immediately look up at
him.
"Why is everyone hunting you, nightshade?" The smoke unfurls
slowly, curling like wisps of ghostly silk as it leaves his lips. His
breath moves through it, shaping the tendrils into swirling
patterns. And then is when I see his face clearly. His eyes are
locked on mine, scanning, observing. There’s weight in the look,
as if he is piecing together a story, trying to understand something
unspoken. Maybe there’s curiosity in the way his brow shifts, but
still something quiet, unreadable.
"Fuck you and your sick games! Why are you here?"
"Where would you like me to be?" He lifts the corner of his mouth
before showing off his white teeth. His sharp fangs.
"Inside a coffin."
The crickets start to chirp their haunting melody. I won’t opt
for the course to exit the maze, so I brush away the extended
leaves with my hands to forge a path between them. I peek over
my shoulder, searching for any sign of him. But the darkness has
swallowed him whole, leaving only silence. Good. He left... I am
fumbling for my phone in my bag and suddenly I bump into him. I
jerk back, startled.
"Why is everyone hunting you, nightshade?"
He is standing effortlessly confident in front of me, like he belongs
in the moment without even trying. The way he carries himself.
Like he knows exactly the effect he has. Scary but hot.
I try to walk past him, but he steps to his right and I bump again
into his body. "I am not asking again."
I arch an eyebrow at him, but his expression is grave.
"You are all idiots… Stop with your stupid stalking game."
"There she is!" One of the masked guys spots me and runs
towards me. I look back at Nox, but he’s already behind him. Iron
chain forced against the guys neck, choking him. I walk in front of
the struggling body and I take off his ghost mask. His fingers
attempt to seize the chain, but Nox yanks it tightly against his
neck so that he can’t detach it. I recognize him. He popped into
my store two days ago.
"What do you want?"
Nox eases the grip slightly, allowing him to speak. The iron
already etched into his skin.
"I am in… in love with… you!"
"What?"
"I love…" Nox snaps his neck and the guy falls dead onto the
damp ground.
"What the fuck?" I raise my voice at him.
"I got bored." He rolls the chain, tucking it into his pocket like a
secret. With deft fingers, he smooths his hair and smiles to me.
"You fucking killed him… you can’t just kill everyone."
"Would you have liked to listen to him propose to you?"
"Fuck you!" I walk past the corpse, scanning the area. "Now I’ll
have another ghost after my ass, thanks to you."
He trails behind me. "We should kiss or fuck, they’ll all go away."
I rotate to meet him, my knife prepared against his lips. "I
am going to torture, kill you, burn your body and have a drink,
naked on your coffin after I am done."
He positions a cigarette between his lips. "Sounds like a date."
He lights it and draws in the chemicals. "Are you asking me on a
date, nightshade?"

Let me tell you something about Nox...

He is like a tiny thorn stuck in your sock. Irritating enough to

disrupt your focus, but not quite painful enough to be a crisis. He
just grates on my nerves and my patience thins.

Yes... of course I'd ride him. Right here, in fact. Of course I'd sit
on his perfect face. I mean… look at him. He’s a fucking magnet.
He makes my eyes trace over his details.

Yes, the way he effortlessly kills someone... hot. The way he just
appears when I am in need of... him?... also hot. One would be
worried. But whatever.
But I just wanna stab him and twist the knife while his cock is
inside me.

Moments like these can stir up a mix of emotions. It might spark

longing. And of course, there’s pure amusement when you catch
yourself staring a little too long.

Like I am now… Damn it!

He is walking before me. It is dark, so he is guiding us out of

this place. I can’t even see the corn plants but their leaves are
nudging my body, confirming that they are still in the vicinity. He
asks me to hold his hand, and for Coven knows what reason, I
accept. That is what I am starring at. Our hands.
"Why naked?" the dim moonlight casts eerie shadows, stretching
and twisting into unnatural shapes. Flickering lights reveal
glimpses of unsettling figures—like him. The silence is the worst
part because I am worried he will hear my heartbeat. Or even the
blood rushing inside my veins.
"What?"
He gently tugs my hand, drawing my body closer to his.
"Why would you pose naked on my coffin?"
"For the Coven’s sake… that’s all you can think about right now?"
He pulls me even closer.
"I don’t think you wanna know what I am thinking about."
I stop. He turns to me, bringing time to a standstill. Our hands are
still holding onto each other.
"Oh, now I want to know."
Without pulling out a cigarette, like he usually does while talking
to me, he moves nearer. I must raise my head entirely to see his
face, covered in shadows.
"You want me to be honest?" He stares down at me. A smirk
showing on his lips when he spots my tongue licking mine. I am
still expecting him to light his smoke. He stands still, as if the very
act of movement might break the spell of this. His eyes hold onto
me, unwavering, drinking in every detail of my face. There is a
quiet intensity in his expression. His fingers twitch slightly while
holding mine. His breathing is steady yet deep, as if he would like
to inhale me into his body. I lift myself up on my toes.
"Every. Single. Detail…" I whisper to him.
I watch his tattoo shift as he swallows his unspoken thoughts. He
tilts his head to the left, a sly smile creeping across his face, his
eyes hungrily consuming mine.
"I want you."
"Me?"
"Let me talk, nightshade."
I slip my hand from his, and in that heartbeat, his hands wrap
around my neck. His index finger lifts my chin for me to look at
him. The perfect choker. I moan and part my lips.
"Are you going to feed from me?" I put my hands on his chest.
"Or feed me?" My fingers run down on his muscles. I smile and
stop at his belt. "Talk." Unbuckling it. He inclines closer, his lips
brushing against my ear.
"I’d taste you inside my coffin." His lips tickle my neck’s skin. "And
after I’d have you bent over it."
I nip my lip, and he halts my movement with his thumb. So I touch
the tip of my tongue to it. One simple lick and he loses it. He
presses his mouth against my neck.

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 CHAPTER 11

M y fangs throb. What if I sink my teeth into her? How will she
respond to this thrilling twist of her naughty game? Her
body ignites like a fire, while mine shivers, craving her heat.
"I’m going to kill you if you bite me."
"What if I do this instead?" My hand crawls under her skirt.
Fingers touching the wet lace between her thighs. She moans.
She is wearing lace. I fucking love lace on her. "What color are
you wearing for me tonight?" Her hand slips into my pants,
immediately rubbing against my cock. Greedy little witch. In a
single motion, I tug at the delicate lace. It slips down on her
thighs. I kneel in front of her. Red. My fingers burrow into her
skin, holding onto her thong, and then I slowly pull it off. Her hand
is in my hair, poised to attack.
A soft creak can be heard to our left. A shuffle. Something
brushing ever so lightly, like fabric skimming a rough surface. I
look up to Neo but her eyes are already on me. I release my grip
on her thigh and kiss the spot where my fingers pressed into her
skin, gently raising her lingerie. She zips up my pants as soon as
I stand up.
"I am going to kill whoever interrupted our play." My hands bring
her in tight to me.
"No…"
The earth seems to hum with the movements, absorbing the
presence. A step. Weight pressing down into the dirt. Leaves
skitter across the ground, tapping faintly against the earth.
"Dead." I whisper into her ear. The darkness makes it impossible
for her to see, but her friend is looking for her. The other witch's
pulse is quickening. Lighting up the area with her phone, she
treads cautiously, scanning every nook for Neo.
"Someone is looking for you." I softly take her chin and turn her
head toward the direction of the motion.
"Zilla. It must be her."
"I guess you’d be very pissed if I kill her." She shifts to me and
punches her fist into my chest. "I’ll see you around then,
nightshade."
"You won’t." She tries to walk away, but I appear in front of her,
suddenly. I click my tongue as soon as I feel her knife close to my
cock.
"Listen to me, bat boy…" The point of the blade is moving up and
down on my bulge. "You are hot, and I really want to sit on your
pretty face. But if you ever even think of having my blood, I am
going to cut off your cock and use it as my dildo after I preserve
it."
"Ah, how lucky I am since you can see ghosts. So… I’ll enjoy the
view." I point to my cock. She rolls her eyes.
"I fucking hate you."
I am fucking obsessed with her.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 12

N ox leads the way for me to find Zilla. His hands in his

pockets, he walks as though he possesses the night. The
fumes from his cigarette are colliding with my face.
"I’ll find you, pretty witch…" The voice cuts through the tangled
corridors, raw.
"Neo??" Zilla’s voice echoes. I panic.
"Where are you?" The guys words stretch, distorted by distance,
swallowed briefly by the shifting wind. I turn, straining to pinpoint
the direction. Footsteps echo, uneven. Their pace falters as the
speaker pauses. Nox turns to me.
"Stay here!"
"Where are you going?"
"To hunt." He takes out the chain from his pocket.
"Nox?" He stares into my eyes. "Take care of Zilla!"
The towering stalks surround me, stretching endlessly in
every direction. I am alone. My breath is shallow, barely louder
that the rustling. The wind shifts the stalks. I turn sharply,
alarmed, the sky above and everything around me are an endless
black.
"Come now, witch. I just want to love you."
What the fuck is wrong with everyone?
Then—it came. A yell, sharp and desperate.
I spin, gripping the edges of the corn plants. The sound echoes,
warped by the maze’s winding paths. Was it ahead? Behind? The
yell repeats, strained, urgent. Farther? Maybe closer?
I break into a run, my lungs burning as I push forward. I have to
get to Zilla. The maze twists in cruel circles, every passage
identical. Another turn. Another corner. I stop.
Ahead, the stalks are torn apart, trampled. Something had or
was moved through violently, ripping the corn as it passed. I can’t
yell Zilla’s name. The monster will know I am not alone. I grip my
knife’s handle so hard that my bones jolt. The ends of my fingers
tingle, searing.
The figure in front of me is tall, still as stone, deep in the
shadows. His head tilted slightly, watching. Waiting. I sprint to
him, stumbling and put the blade into his back, right between his
ribs.
"Neo, what the fuck?"
Nox turns to me, his hand withdrawing the blade from his flesh.
Blood paints his lips, smeared in uneven streaks, glistening dark
under the moon’s pale glow. The crimson trails snake down his
chin, pooling at the edges of sharp, gleaming fangs—evidence of
a fresh kill. The body lies motionless at his feet, limbs awkwardly
sprawled. The skin already drained of warmth, carries an
unnatural pallor, tinged with the quiet stillness of death. Shadows
creep into the hollows of its face, accentuating the glassy stare of
eyes that no longer see. A tickle of blood winds its way from his
neck. From two perfect dots. Fingers rest half-curled, frozen in
their last position.
"You killed him."
"He wanted you…" he wipes his hand across his lips, attempting
to remove the blood from his skin.
The darkness is shattered by flashing strobes of red and
blue, pulsing against the air, the leaves, our bodies. The rotating
beams cut through the night, casting sharp, shifting shadows that
flicker like ghosts against the surroundings. The hum of engines
grows closer, a low rumble beneath the rhythmic whine of sirens
that ebb and fade with the slowing approach. Tires crunch against
the dirt, coming to a halt.
Nox’ hands clutch my face.
"Look at me, Neo…" My eyes meet his. His face is blank, or he
does that so I can relax. "I asked your friend to hide behind the
pile of fake bones after the next corner. Go to her and run away
from here!"
"What about you?"
"Are you worried about me, nightshade?"
"Nox…"
"I’ll be fine… in prison, but just fine. Meet me there in two days,
baby."
I take a step back from him. The car’s doors swing open. Heavy
boots hit the ground. Voices rise, clipped and quick, breaking the
stillness with measured commands.
"Neo? He was talking about being in love with you."
"I don’t know what’s happening."
"I’d gladly kill everyone for you. Now, go!"
How did the love potion bottle end up on the ground? Fucking
ghosts...
The fumes billowing from the brew are pink when they are meant
to be red. It’s possible that the blood is a different type this time.
I take another step back. My breathing becomes fast and
shallow. I can hear my heart pound inside my chest, each beat
loud and relentless. My hands tremble. My skin feels cold and hot
at the same time, beads of sweat forming despite the chill running
down my spine. My vision narrows, the surroundings blur. His
hands grab my face, shaking me gently.
"Neo!" I can hear his voice calling for my name. A fading sound.
"Neo!" He embraces my whole being, pulling me into his chest,
supporting me from collapsing. "I am here!"
"I made a mistake…" I tell him, his black hoodie covering my
face.
"What?" His hand is sweeping my hair.
I look up at him. "You… the candy…"
"Neo, you have to run. Now!"
I spot Zilla right where Nox said she’d be. Without a second
thought, we run from the maze. I know he is smart enough to
sense the smoke. I know he is safe… wherever he is.
I poisoned everyone.
I fucking poisoned every single being that bought my fucking
candy for Halloween.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 13

A brass bell jingles as the door swings open. I hoist my eyes to

Zilla walking into the shop with two coffees in her hands.
"Good morning!"
"The sign was indicating ‘closed’."
"Let me check if I care." She moves toward the counter. The
cups, branded with a charming logo from the café down the
street, gleam with tiny wisps of steam curling into the morning
light. As she sets them down, the soft clink of plastic against the
wood joins the quiet hum of the shop, blending seamlessly with
the rustling of candy wrappers. "Found anything?"
My fingertips navigate the sheets of a timeworn book.
"Unfortunately, yes… love potion…" I sip the hot coffee and let
out a satisfied sigh.
"Makes sense. Three of them said they are in love with you?"
"Were… Nox killed them."
"But he ate the candy too, or?"
"Yeah…"
"Holy shit, Neo… We need to find a way to undo it."
"The book talks about ways to undo it."
"You are going to torture the poor vampire, aren’t you?"
"Use him… kill him after if it doesn’t work."
I shove my things into my bag and, with one hand, navigate on
my phone’s map.
"Where are you going?"
"To the prison."

The air feels heavier as I drive through the towering gates,

opened for visitors. A stark building looms ahead, its cold
concrete walls lined with razor wire, standing firm against the
outside world. Inside, fluorescent lights hum softly, casting a
sterile glow over the rows of metal chairs in the waiting area. An
uniformed officer at the front desk reviews paperwork, his
expression neutral. I hand over my identification as soon as he
asks for my name. Emptying my pockets of everything, I pass
through a metal detector.
"Name of the inmate you are visiting?"
I stare at him for a while, hesitant. "Nox…"
He laughs. I have a feeling he knows him. "Alright. You have 30
minutes. No touching!"
Beyond the checkpoint, a corridor stretches ahead. The
smell of disinfectant lingers, mixed with something faintly metallic.
I reach the visitation room. I sit down, my bag on my lap. At least I
am not alone. Two women are crying, while the other three seem
too bored for what is about to come. I start picking at my red nail.
"Nightshade."
I look up at him, standing in front of me. Clad in just gray
sweatpants, his hands are shackled in front of his impressive
body. Light catches on his inked skin, tracing intricate designs
across his arms, chest and on the muscles of his abdomen.
Revealing the hard lines of muscles beneath swirling patterns of
ink.
Those pants on him.
Veins ripple beneath his skin on both arms.
"Bat boy." I swallow.
His smile is warm, effortless—the kind that instantly makes you
wet. It starts slow, a gentle curve at the corner of his lips, before
spreading fully, lighting up his face. His eyes crinkle slightly at the
edges. Maybe it’s the way he tilts his head. Maybe his fangs and
me wanting them inside my skin.
"You came."
"You literally told me to be here." My gaze crawls across his
chest, a canvas of sculpted strength. The contours of his arms
ripple with power, each muscle a testament to his size. He is a
towering presence, an impressive blend of force and darkness.
He once told me his tattoos are the last words or actions of those
whom he has killed. He is fully covered in them. That means…
His gaze hooks in mine, a magnetic pull I can’t resist. He can see
I’m staring. "Are they out of shirts?"
"Boxer briefs, too."
I roll my eyes. "Listen to me…"
"Like a good boy."
"Nox… I mean it!"
He leans into the metal chair. His handcuffed arms on his lap. "I
adore how you say my name—a blend of desire and hate."
I lift myself, thumping the table with my bag. Everyone’s attention
falls on me.
"Stay… please." His voice is more of a whisper.
I ease back into my seat, dropping my bag onto the nippy
linoleum.
"Good girl."
I move closer, my breasts colliding with the table’s edge.
"Nox, I swear on my Coven, if you get out of here, I am going to
fucking kill you!" My posture shifts—arms crossed, a slight lean
into the cold chair, I tap my fingers on my arm, my leg bouncing,
betraying my impatience.
I want to climb on this table, sit on his lap, and strangle him with a
cord made from the fluttering creatures that batter my insides.
"What’s wrong?"
It’s an internal tug of war. I open my mouth, but hesitate.
"10 more minutes!" The officer’s voice startles everyone.
What? How???
"I made a mistake…" I look into his gray eyes, finding my
reflection in them. His brow furrows slightly, a crease forming
between his eyes as he stares at me. His head tilts, like he is
trying to adjust his perspective, as if a different angle might make
things clearer. His eyes dart from my eyes to my lips.
"Details, nightshade…"
"You know what that means? Don’t call me that!"
"A plant related to the potato?"
I am going to punch him in the face.
"It is a poisonous plant, asshole."
"See? It fits you perfectly."
My jaw tightens, I feel the heat rising in my chest, each breath
sharper. "Yes! You know why? I’ve unleashed chaos—poisoned
half the fucking city."
"What?" I see it in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty, a slight
narrowing as he tries to piece together what doesn’t quite fit.
"I spilled love potion into the cauldron."
"That explains their affection."
"I need to be locked up, not you." I hit my spine to the chair and
can finally breathe freely.
"It’s not my first time in prison, Neo."
"I can tell…" I look at his exposed chest. He lays his hands on the
table, relaxed. Teeth marks. The imprint left by my bite inked into
his skin. My heart stutters for a second as I take it in—the lines,
the ink, the permanence of it. He marked his skin with something
tied to me… my bite on him. What? "No…"
He laughs, teasing—a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his
chuckle laced with affection and pride.
"What do you want, nightshade?" He brings up his arms, elbows
leaning on the metal table, his chin propped on them. He loves
this. Me needing him. I can’t lift my eyes from his tattoo.
I swallow my words like bitter slime, holding back a storm.
Instead, I look at him—confident, inviting, holding just enough
mystery to keep him intrigued. There’s a playful smirk at the
corner of my lips, just enough to suggest I am in control of the
moment. I bend closer, giving him a view of my black lace bra.
His eyes land smack in the net. I am a fucking Venus
flytrap.
"You want me to kill them, don’t you?" Keeping his focus on my
breasts, I lift his chin with my finger.
"I said no touching!" The officer’s voice interrupts my act.
I fold my fingers together like in a plea and place my chin on
them. "Just the ones that won’t cooperate."
"Time’s up!"
I stand up and Nox follows my movements. With a
sophisticated twist of my body, I turn to exit the room. Nox is
close to my back, his cock brushing on my ass. He bends, his
voice close to my ear. "What do I get in return?"
I pull a lace lingerie piece from my bag and pass it to him. His
hand wraps it wholly; a tight fist.

I find myself wrapped in sheets, like a prey caught in

spiderweb, lost in thoughts. The air carries the scent of spiced
cider. Alcohol crawling into my mind. Shadows stretch longer in
the soft candle glow, making even ordinary objects feel slightly
mysterious in my room. A horror movie is playing on my phone. A
bowl of salty popcorn sprinkled with cherry syrup sits within
reach. Hex springs from my lap and runs out of the room. I get a
prickling sensation—a subtle awareness that something feels off.
My eyes dart to the dark corners, places where shadows stretch
longer than they should. Maybe the feeling is irrational, just a trick
of my mind. But still, my heartbeat quickens. I turn slowly, half-
expecting to find someone standing there. My pulse thuds in my
ears as I hold my breath, waiting. Nothing. Yet the unease lingers,
settling into my bones, whispering that I am not as alone as I
think.
I rise from my bed; my ebony silk nightdress barely
concealing my thighs.
 He stands at the window, his silhouette outlined by the soft
glow of streetlights. His breath fogs the glass ever so slightly as
he leans in. Fingers trail absently along the edge of the frame.
His eyes shift, scanning my body. The floor beneath me barely
registers as my bare feet walk forward. I open the terrace door
and he barges in, uninvited, hauling the cold from the street
along. He approaches me quickly, his steps brimming with
audacity. No hint of shyness, just a fluid grace in his movements.
Unfettered and bold, he commands the space around him.
His arms wrap around me with strength, muscles flexing as
he lifts me effortlessly off the ground. I instinctively grip his
shoulders for balance, gasping, surprised by the sudden shift. My
body leans into his, trusting the hold, feeling the coldness of his
embrace. His body feels like ice. He steadies me, adjusting his
grip. The press of my thighs wrapped around his waist, locking us
together. His hands settle at my sides, securing me in place,
fingers pressing gently against my skin.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 14

I carry her in my arms to the bed.

"When did you get out?"
"I didn’t." Laying her down, she kneels on her mattress in front of
me. She tilts her head, her eyes absorbing each tattoo etched on
my arms. They linger a moment on my chest, then drift down to
my belt.
"Take off your shirt." She looks up at me. Her back curves, chest
elevated high. Her dark strands cascade over her body like a
living veil, shifting with every movement. It clings in some places,
teasing the curves and contours beneath, while in others, it spills
in wild waves, obscuring all but fleeting glimpses of soft skin. I
comply with her request. I feel weak, a feeling I never saw
coming. It creeps in quietly to me, studying her every movement,
imprinting her face in my mind, might be my favorite thing. The
way her eyes hold me captive.
I’d dig every grave for her. I would line the field with bodies,
turning them into scarecrows. I’d strip each bone bare of flesh.
Clean them of blood. From them, I would craft jewelry and hair
clips for her. Make use of their skin to wave fresh covers for her
torn books. I’d turn their skulls into buckets; for her to pack them
with candy and gift them out to children on Halloween night.
Her fingers trace the definition of my abs. Like waves, they
move upward. Drawing phantom patterns on the knife tattoo
etched on my ribs. She observes the spot of clear skin right
above my chest, under my collarbone, and kisses it. Her red
lipstick leaving an imprint on the skin. Marking the place for the
future tattoo. I lift her chin so I can get a good look at her face.
Her hand moves to my belt. She unfastens it without flinching or
diverting her eyes from mine. Her witchcraft holds me motionless.
She loosens my pants and ventures her hand into my briefs.
I swear, I felt my dead heart racing for an instant. She takes
out my cock, holding it at the base. Leaving my eyes, she looks
down at it. My fingers slide through her hair, tuck it behind her
ear, and stop there for a moment. She kisses the tip of my cock. A
sudden jolt dances along my spine. Tiny spiders climbing on each
vertebrae. Each tingling sensation, like a spark igniting my
nerves, leaves me breathless. Another soft kiss. Her tongue parts
her lips and licks the tiny hole, tasting the precum. She starts
slowly to stroke me. Her flat tongue licks my whole length. Fuck.
From the base, she stops at the head and creates circles with her
tongue around it. She awakened my heart. Throbbing inside my
chest. I want to be inside her so bad. She puts the head of my
cock inside her mouth and takes it out, rubbing it against her lips
and cheek.
"Do you want me, bat boy?"
She must be teasing. I am hard for her. Because of her.
"I want you, nightshade. In all forms and positions."
"Good." She gives my cock another kiss. Another stroke.
I would kill everyone and everything for you.
"Good." I twist her hair around my hand.
She starts giving me a blowjob. Stroking, licking and sucking on
my cock. I lose it as she deep-throats me. Cumming on her chest,
I kiss her afterwards. Tasting myself on her tongue and lips.
Now it’s my turn to taste you.
I kneel in front of her bed, taking hold of her legs and placing
them on my shoulders. She looks surprised. Gently tugging down
her lace thong, I kiss her thighs. Soft, sultry moans fill the air. She
lies on her back, her hands already in my hair.
A kiss on her right thigh.
A kiss on her left thigh.
Keeping her yearning for me.
The air that escapes from my lungs brushes against her skin, and
she startles. I finally kiss her, my tongue tip touching her clit. No
blood would ever please me like this. Her shiver unfurls, a spark
that tingles playfully on my tongue. I smile at her moans. At her
wanting more.
"If you don’t fuck me right now, pretty boy, I am going to kill you."
She grips my jaw and tilts my head so she can meet my gaze. I
hoist myself onto the bed, positioned over her.
"Do you want me, nightshade?"
"I want you," Her legs entwine around my body, anchoring me
firmly to her. "Right now."
I kiss her neck, inhaling her scent. My lips sense the blood
throbbing beneath her skin. The thickness of her vein. My fangs
ache. The cold steel meets my skin.
"I said fuck, not feed."
I lift my head and catch her gaze. Anger paints her stunning face.
"I can do both."
"Did I ask for both, bat boy?" She presses the blade into my skin.
"No."
I smile at her, revealing my fangs and licking their sharpness. She
tracks my every motion with keen intensity. I clasp her wrists,
lifting her hands above her head. Her eyes widen, a flash of fear
illuminating her face. The knife slips from her grasp onto the
sheets. With a swift motion, I pull my chain from my pocket and
tie her hands, a tight binding that leaves no room for escape.
I settle on the bed, her legs still positioned around my waist.
I take hold of my cock, still very much hard for her, and I brush it
against her. She breathes in loudly every time my cock touches
her. She chews her lower lip, curving her spine. My left hand slips
under her nightgown and crawls on her skin, halting on her
breast. My right hand shakes my cock head on her clit. Vibrating
like one of the dildos she hides in her bedside drawer. I should
know, since I stalk her every night. I caught her two times
pleasuring herself. Taking note of her actions and their intensity. I
know precisely how she enjoys it, taking things slow at the start.
The way she accelerates just before climax. I would have never
glanced if I hadn’t sensed her thoughts touching me. Wanting me.
I’ve never experienced a call that summons my very soul and
demon. And FUCK how sexy it was watching her play while she
was thinking of me. And here I am now, about to slow-fuck her.
I thrust inside her. And it is killing her that she can’t move
her hands. I can see her yearning to explore every contour of my
body. Back-and-forth gliding inside and out of her, while
stimulating her clitoris simultaneously. Every moan makes me
thrust deeper, as much as her depth allows. I lean in and kiss her,
muffling her loud sounds. I can feel her tightening around my
cock. My thumb moves faster on her. I replace my cock with two
fingers, stroking myself until I release again on her. We reach a
climax at the same time, and I drop my frame to her right,
unfastening her hands.
"I hope you won’t spend the night." She elevates herself and
climbs on top, straddling me, handing me my black shirt. I start to
twist her hair. I just aim to remove it from sight while I clean her
breasts of my discharge. "I have to shower. But thank you." She
climbs off me. "Wait here… I have something in the kitchen that
will make you forget." And she walks out of the room.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 15

As this memory burns to dust,

Help him now, forget he must.

I start to burn the woody nightshade—funny huh?—on my way

back to my room. I shut the door behind me and turn to him.
The room is empty, the bedding is neat. Oh, cursed be the Moon.
A torn piece of notebook paper is hanging on the vanity mirror.
'See you later. Heart, your sexy bat boy.' That notebook was in
my nightstand drawer… Damn it… he saw my dildos. That piece
of sneaky, playing bat shit.
I tap the paper with my fingertip, and it starts to flare up. Tiny
flecks of ash fall on the vanity.
I walk into the bathroom and turn on the hot water; for some
reason, I enjoy it when it sears my skin. I can still sense his touch
on my nipple. His tongue between my legs. His smoke scent is
attached to my skin, making me want to scrub harder. Why?
Because I hate how much I like it. It’s disgusting. Hot… Shit… I
made it worse… First, I sell him the candy with the love potion in
it. Then I have sex with him. What the hell is wrong with me?! I
wrap myself in a towel, Nox’s scent still lingering on my skin and
room. Stepping out of the bathroom, my eyes catch another piece
of paper on the mirror, silently waiting for my attention. 'You can't
get rid of me, baby. *the fire trick was hot.'
I am going to cut off his fingers and stab him with the pen he
used to write. Also, if I make it out alive, because if Zilla finds out
I slept with Nox, she is going to kill me.
"Neo, what for the Coven’s sake is wrong with you??"
Here we go...
I enter into the kitchen with Hex in my arms. Nuzzling my
collarbone, it gently rubs its skull against me. Zilla’s arms are
crossed under her chest. Her striped black and orange thighs tug
at my manners. I fight the urge to laugh, aware that it will only
provoke her further.
"What?" I give Hex a kiss and put him down.
"Seriously? Don’t mind me asking a question but… why was the
vampire here this morning? Making himself a cup of MY coffee
and smoking inside the kitchen?"
"That’s not one question…" I chomp on the walls of my cheeks
and approach the counter. Rich, aromatic coffee pours by itself
into my bat-shaped mug. "Did you two talk?" I turn to face Zilla,
very much ashamed of my actions.
"Let me tell you the whole story… I enter into the kitchen, and the
lad, half-naked, makes coffee. I am also half-naked because it is
my house. So I was trying to pull down my shirt so he wouldn’t
notice my ass being exposed. He very casually tells me ‘Good
morning’ with a cigarette in his mouth, like we have known each
other since childhood, and hands me a cup of coffee."
I cover my mouth with my palm. Still, the cackle pops forth and I
can’t bloody stop. I burst into laughter, and even my tears are
streaming from my eyes in shock. Zilla also starts laughing.
"You used him, didn’t you?"
"I just… he just appeared."
"Well… while you had sex, I found a list of things to undo the
spell."
"Great. I’ll start today." I sip the hot coffee and notice my ‘Happy
Halloween’ mug on the sink, already clean.

Over breakfast, I read the list that Zilla wrote for me:
The Ultimate Friend Zone Ritual (flirt with someone else in front
of him)
The Garlic Cologne (eat/wear so much garlic that your aura
repels all romantic energy/vampires)
Voodoo
The Reverse Love Potion (give him something bad to drink)
Fear
The “I’m Too Busy” Excuse (make him plan a date and run)
The Accidental Proposal (ask him to marry you… they all
disappear after that)
The Ultimate Distraction (seduce him into wanting to have sex
and kill him while you do it)
I look up at Zilla.

"Herbs and other spells can always be included."

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 16

1 . The Ultimate Friend Zone Ritual.

The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and
decaying leaves as we walk, our footsteps barely disturbing the
quiet hush that hangs over the graveyard. The lights are flickering
through the twisted branches of old trees, casting shadows that
dance across the worn gravestones. A Halloween graveyard
party. The perfect place to start undoing the spell.
I run my fingers along the edges of a moss-covered marker,
its inscription worn and barely legible. I pause at a marble angel,
its stone wings spread in eternal vigilance. A single crow perched
atop it, head cocked, as if studying her, listening to her whispers.
A couple of ghosts holding hands runs between the tombstones,
their cold breeze knocking over a vase of dried flowers. I make
my way to it, lifting them up and restoring them to their place.
"They will knock it over. Over and over again."
I shift in the direction of the voice behind me. The male ghost is
crouching on a bench.
"Nice hat." His eyes are fixed on my witch hat.
"I’m a witch."
"No one would tell." He laughs and stands up.
I laugh. "Are you here for the party?" I place the vase on the
concrete bed.
"You guys are in my garden."
"So it’s your party."
"Yeah." He floats to my right. "The party is that way."
Flickering lanterns cast ghostly shadows over cracked
tombstones, mist is creeping in from the ground like lost spirits
rising for the night. Guests are already dancing and drinking in
their most haunting attires, ready to revel the midnight chill. The
sound of rock music is waking up the dead and people are
sipping dark-themed drinks—maybe witch’s brew or blood punch,
with alcohol in them, of course. Games include a ghost-story
contest near an ancient crypt, a scavenger hunt for hidden bones
and a dance floor where skeletons sway to the beat of drums.
Jack-o’-lanterns glow dimly, watching over the party like silent
guardians, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. They
used glow-in-the-dark paint to make gravestones eerily glow.
Everything else is covered in spiderweb.
The smell of smoke becomes familiar.
"Nice dress, nightshade." A finger brushes my spine, delicately
rising up my vertebrae.
"Would you like to dance with me?" I ask the ghost and take his
hand leaving the vampire behind.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 17

S he moves like a haunting whisper through the evening air.

Every intricate pattern of her black lace dress—woven gothic
flowers, elegant vines—seem to come alive as she steps forward,
her silhouette framed by the golden hues of dusk. The fabric hugs
her form tight, its texture like spiderweb on her skin. The dress
falls just above mid-thigh, revealing a bold yet effortless style.
Flaring out in a flirtatious sway with every step she takes. Paired
with knee high boots and that witch hat, making me crave to
undress her. Her black hair, that living veil, once wrapped around
my hand, fluttering like the pages of an unread love story. She is
poetry. She is the queen of horrors. As she turns, there is a flicker
of mystery in her eyes as she watches me, a promise of
something unspoken, something waiting to unfold in the hush
between our heartbeats. She smiles. Playing little thing. She
starts to jump on the rhythm of the drums and laughs when she
sees her friend also dancing with a guy.
"Isn’t that your witch?" Zeke leans on the tomb I am already
occupying, drinking from a blood bag.
"Fuck off!" I pull a cigarette from its container and stick it in my
mouth. Colette sits on my lap and lights it. I am going to kill
everyone.
"Isn’t that your witch?" She looks confused. Zeke laughs.
I breathe in the chemicals to calm my body and release the
smoke on Colette’s face. Neo notices them, her on my lap. I wait
for a flicker of jealously, but indifference runs all over her tiny
body as she turns her back to us. That ass. Fuck.
"Oh, someone has a boner." Colette stands up. "She looks
fucking delicious, man." She yanks my hand and hauls me to the
dance floor.
The flickering lights pulse like a heartbeat, weaving energy
through the night air. Neon flashes in vibrant green, reflecting off
laughter-filled faces. Shadows shrink with every strobe, music
syncing with the dance of light and darkness. The smell of alcohol
and smoke is heavy. Exactly how everyone likes it. Colette’s arms
wrap around my neck while her eyes are hunting for lonely girls. A
quick meal. A fast fuck.
"Ask her out, dude." She yells into my ear.
"No."
"Oh, I get it. Fuck and feed."
I look at her, already half-drunk. One of the wolf dudes
approaches Neo, but she doesn't seem to care. Her hips sway,
her ass grooves way too close to the bastard’s cock. She dances
between two assholes. I inhale the smoke. Holding it still in my
lungs. Colette notices my rigid frame and takes the wolf boy for a
dance. I walk to Neo, her back dancing for me. She doesn’t
realize I am the one standing behind her. I wrap my hands around
her waist; she gazes at them, intrigued.
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 CHAPTER 18

" Are you trying to make me jealous?" He bends closer, placing

his chin on my shoulder. His inked hands are cradling my waist
and pulling me closer to his body.
"I'll try to get rid of you too." I carry on my dance, aware that my
motions will arouse him. This is making me horny.
"Is someone bothering you again?"
I turn my head; our lips hover temptingly close. "Would you like
HIS name?" He laughs. These fangs make me wonder how they
would feel inside my skin. His face is perfectly created with black
locks cascading over his brow. I am drunk. I reach for his hands,
my fingers gliding over sturdy veins. "Were you jealous?" I
question; my lips tickling his ear. He laughs again.
"I was. Is that making you happy?"
I release his hands. The graveyard pulses with music, the bass
vibrating through the ground as bodies move in rhythmic chaos. I
step forward, weaving through the shifting sea of dancers, feeling
the warmth of their movement and the occasional brush of an arm
or a swaying hip. The air is thick with laughter, conversations, and
the scent of spilled drinks, perfume and smoke. I try to reach
Zilla.
"He is jealous."
"What?" She stops dancing.
"He is jealous!"
"Good. Is he still under the spell?"
"I don’t know." I look between the people to find Nox, but he is
already staring at me. I sense my cheeks flushing.
"Well… find out! Kiss someone else."
I have to kiss someone else...
I make my way straight toward the tall dude next to Nox. My
jealous vampire stands up as soon as I reach them and I bump
into his body.
"Neo, I swear on blood, if you do something stupid I will kill
everyone here."
I grab Nox’ shirt and pull him down to me. "Kiss me, someone is
watching."
His hands gently cup my face, fingers tracing the curve of my jaw
as he leans in. The world stops around us—the music, the
flickering of lights, the wind—all fading into the quiet urgency of
the moment. Our breath mingles, warm and close, before his lips
brush against mine, tentative at first, then deeper, more certain.
Time stretches, slows, dissolves. My heartbeat quickens. There’s
a quiet electricity in the way he tilts his head, the way he leans
into me, the way our bodies instinctively align as if pulled together
by something unseen. He interrupts the kiss.
"He’s gone."
I look around us. "It works."
 The music still pulses as I slip away from the party. My ears
hum with the remnants of laughter, the beat still drumming in my
chest. The cocktail glass is still in my hand. How can I kiss
someone else. Streetlights flicker above me as I sit on one of the
graves.
"I know you are here."
Nox leaves the shadows as if he is part of them. Draped in black
with his hands in his pockets, his cigarette is already nestled
between his lips.
"How would you react if I’d kiss someone else right now?"
"Do you really want me to spill blood for you?" He stops in front of
me.
"How did you get out of prison?"
"I know people."
I look up at him. He releases the smoke, grabs the ette between
his thumb and index finger, and breathes in again.
"I need your help…"
"He’s already dead."
He killed the wolf boy.
"You can’t kill everyone that has feelings for me."
"But I will." he finishes his smoke and drops it on the ground.
"Those are not feelings. They act possessed."
"Possessed?"
"They are obsessed with your body or blood."
"And what are you obsessed with?"
He scoops me up effortlessly, sits on the gravestone, holding me
on his lap. "You."
"My blood. You’re a vampire… I’m a witch… you guys always
want us. And you stalk me, always."
"True. But you like that."
"That won’t stop me from killing you. And you need to stop killing
the others."
"Fine. What is it that you want, nightshade?"
"I need to do some tests and spells on you… to see what works...
and what not."
"For?"
"My own pleasure." I scoot closer to him. My hand tugs down his
shirt, uncovering his collarbone and my lips inked in bloody red
below it. "Did you tattoo my lips on your cock as well?"
"I have an appointment tomorrow." He burrows his face into my
neck.
Why is he acting completely different from the others? They all
had the same candy.
He kills everyone for me.
I’ll have to kill him myself.
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 CHAPTER 19

2 . The Garlic Cologne

Nox, surprisingly, accepted meeting me at my shop in
the morning. For research, of course. I hear his bike park in front
of the candy shop. I glance out the window, among the bat
stickers. He is fully geared up—ready to tackle dirt trails. He is
wearing a black jersey, covered in sponsor logos and eye-
catching bat graphics. His riding pants are reinforced with tough
material, built to endure the rough surface and protect him from
scrapes. Heavy-duty motocross boots rise up to his calves,
shielding his legs from impact and keeping his grip steady on the
pegs. He takes off his black gloves and drops them on the leather
seat. Finally, he takes off his helmet—with a long visor, and a
black set of goggles that shield his eyes from dust. His hair is
wet. He must’ve trained before coming here.
He enters the shop, his face making a disgusted grimace.
I make my way to him, removing his helmet from his hands.
"New recipe?" he asks indifferent about the smell now.
"What do you mean?"
"It stinks."
"What do you mean?" I behold him with endearing doll eyes.
"Do you want to repel vampires?"
"Is it working?"
"No."
"Damn it!" I toss the helmet back to him, and he laughs. "Wait a
minute…"
"I won’t eat garlic, Neo."
"Why?"
"Because I am planning to kiss you." He leaps onto the counter
with the helmet placed on his lap. His fingers run through his
damp hair, clearing strands that fall over his brow.
"In your dreams, bat boy."
"That was the event of last night."
I stroll on the opposite side of the counter, Nox’ back facing me.
"Was it? Did you dream about me?"
"Would you like details?"
"You know my answer..."
He unexpectedly shows up behind me, seizing the blade from my
hand. "You know…" his hand gently lifts my chin, unveiling my
neck to his gaze. "You are a sneaky little witch."
"I just need your blood."
"Manners?"
"Please…" I roll my eyes.
He draws the blade to his throat.
"Then let me bleed for you, nightshade."
"But I wanted to do it…"
"We cut together, you take the blood, with your tongue." He
captures my hand, placing the blade gently between my fingers.
With deft precision, he grips both my hands and the shimmering
steel and cuts into his neck. The skin breaks, exposing the
underlying tissues. Almost instantly, blood starts seeping from the
injury site, escaping, gradually forming a glossy sheen over the
cut. He spins me swiftly, my breasts colliding with his chest.
Drawing me near, he envelops me in his embrace. I study the
wound, a silent storm brewing in me. Instinctively, my lips find his
neck, pressing softly against the fragile skin. My tongue flicks out,
gathering his blood like children gathering the Halloween candy
from each house. His taste is metallic, slightly salty, and
somewhat bitter. I pull my lips from his neck, and he catches my
chin, bringing his mouth to mine.

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 CHAPTER 20

T he second I touch her bloody tongue with mine, there’s a

moment of recognition—a sharp, metallic edge that lingers
and coats our mouths. Blood is blood. And having mine on her
tongue is so fucking hot.
"How is this blood collecting?"
"It’s not. I said I was planning to kiss you."
"Now you’ll have to do more than that." She whispers on my lips.
I twist her complete figure and tilt her over the counter. She
elegantly sways her hips, her ass rubbing against my cock. I lean
in, brushing my lips on her shoulder.
"I want to fuck you like this."
She smiles, curving her spine. Bent over, wearing a black mini
skirt, her thighs are completely exposed. I put my cock on her
ass, rubbing it against her cheeks. Fuck. To have her like this.
Her hand stretches out to me, gliding over me slowly while she
shifts her hips. So slow. My fingers dance in circles on her,
tracing pleasure’s map. I enjoy each moan that escapes her lips.
"I want you inside… me."
"Manners?" I bite the skin on her neck.
"Just fuck me, already."
I pull away her thong and touch the tip of my cock to her. She
shivers, and I remove her hand from my cock. Grasping both of
her wrists tightly with one hand, she anchors them against her
spine. I thrust half-way up inside her. Moving my other hand to
her waist. Holding her in place. In some way, she seizes control
and manipulates me into her playing. I am her toy, looking at her
as she satisfies herself by using me. Her hips’ movements. Her
dance all over me. She stands up with my cock still inside her, her
back pressed to my chest. And I lift her chin, licking her neck.
I place two of my fingers to her lips and request her to suck.
She brushes them with a flat tongue, then ushers them into her
mouth, soaking them. I take my fingers out of her mouth and drop
them on her sensitive spot. I hold my hand over her mouth to
blanket her yell as she orgasms with me inside her.

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 CHAPTER 21

3 .Voodoo
"The tattoo is misplaced."
I stitch a puppet while we stroll in the woods. I still need a handful
of leaves to fill it out, and Nox… he mentioned he has a task to
tackle in the graveyard. So that is where we are heading.
"Hmm?" My fingers move deftly, looping thread through each
punctured hole as if binding thoughts into physical form. The
memories of us having sex should work just fine. The shape
emerges—rough at first, yet unmistakably Nox. I stretch up for his
hair and take a strand from his head.
"Ouch."
The hair tucked beneath the layers adds an intimate connection.
"The ‘I bite’ tattoo is too low."
I pause and look up at him.
"It is not." I extend my hand in front of me to examine the doll. "It
looks just like you." I mastered a new skill. The rush of
satisfaction burns my insides. I smile.
"Creepy as shit." He resumes his walk, the shovel balanced on
his shoulder.
"He’s cute."
"So that makes me... cute."
"Know your limits."
Each step sinks slightly into the soft ground, muffled by
layers of fallen leaves. The towering trees stand like sentinels,
their gnarled roots weaving through the undergrowth like veins.
As the path winds closer to the graveyard, a quiet stillness settles
in. The gravestones peek through the mist, worn by time, their
inscriptions softened by the sun and rain. A gentle breeze stirs,
carrying the faint aroma of old stone and wet grass.
The weight of the shovel presses into his hands, and I know
he doesn’t feel it. As the blade bites into the earth, its soil dense
and damp, it clings to the metal edge. Each thrust sends a dull
thud through the silence, the rhythmic scrape of steel against the
earth echoing between the weathered tombstones. The ground
yields, clumps breaking apart. His muscles coil and flex, power
rippling through his arms and back as the dirt piles beside him. I
watch his tattoos. Death dances through a gallery of haunting
images. They cascade like waves, from his neck, chest, arms,
legs, on his back. Death intertwines with his skin, telling tales of
what only he knows.
I need his blood. I know, I know…
"Digging your own grave?" I am sitting on a tombstone, right leg
crossed. The doll perched on my lap.
"Don’t believe I won’t take you with me." He stops digging.
Crouches and starts to hunt for the bone, I suppose, with his
hands. The soil clings stubbornly to the shape beneath, damp
earth packed tightly around its form. His fingers pry gently at its
edges, the dirt crumbles away in uneven clumps, revealing
something pale beneath the surface. He smiles. The bone
emerges slowly, its texture rough and weathered. A final tug
separates it from the ground’s grasp. He throws it on the grass
and climbs out from the hole. His foot pushing the dirt back inside
it.
"What do you need bones for?"
"Making dildos for you."
I roll my eyes. "Did you kill him or her?"
"Probably."
"You don’t know?"
"I did not make it to their funerals to find out where they are
buried."
"Gravestones bear names."
"I didn’t ask that either."
My pupils shift upward, dragging my gaze toward the sky
and he laughs at my eye-roll. I pull a pin from my hair and jab the
doll’s heart with it. Nox collapses to the ground as shadows
stretch around him. The bone drops from his hand, resting silently
beside him. What??? I didn’t even put the spell on the doll. I
stand up and run to him. I sink my knees into the dirt and clutch
Nox’s shoulders in my hands, shaking him.
"Nox! Nox, wake up!" Hoovering above him, watching the rise and
fall of his chest. Nothing. The serenity clinging stubbornly to his
skin. "Nox, wake the hell up!" I try again, my words curling like
threads, winding their way into the depths of nothing. "What the
fuck?" I shake him again. My patience wavers. The darkness
clings to the air, thick and suffocating. I reach out, my fingers
trembling as I place them on his chest—a hesitant push. No
response. A chill slithers down my spine. My heartbeat picks up,
urgency flooding my veins. Is this it? I just killed him… "Wake up!"
My voice is barely a breath, edged with growing desperation. I
sprint back to the doll and remove the pin from its heart. Nothing.
I kneel again close to him, ear pressed against his chest. The
stillness echoes—no heartbeat.
"Nox, please! I need you!" His posture remains still, rigid.
I can dump his body into the hole he already dug. I know it’ll
make Zilla proud.
"I knew it!" He opens his eyes and captures my entire body,
pulling me onto him. He spins me onto the ground, his entire form
above me. My eyes widen instinctively, flickering disbelief. A
sharp inhale rushes through my parted lips, words failing to form
as emotions crash like a wave. He peers down at me, his hands
applying pressure on my wrists, into the ground. His hair is
dangling in pretty, black waves. "I knew it."
"What the fuck?" I try to move my hands but he’s too strong. He
leans in. Lips close to mine. The smoky scent has already been
absorbed by my skin. He parts his lips and coils his tongue
upward. The twin piercings from underneath his tongue tenderly
skim my lower lip. I smile and bite them. He moans. You want to
play, bat boy? Let’s play. I clench my teeth together. "Hmm?"
He lets out what sounds like a laugh. I tug at them and I can
sense the sugary, metallic flavor of his blood. I let go.
"Hot." His word ignites my thighs.
"Bite me."
He lifts his brow at me.
"I want our blood mixed in our mouths."
Desire courses through us like an electric current. Our breath
quickens, shallow yet controlled, betraying the tension simmering
in our veins. His eyes darken. He holds them on me longer than
usual.
"If I taste you…"
"You will stop when I say it, or I’ll kill you."
"You won’t kill me."
"I will never have sex with you again." He kisses me. I put the tip
of my tongue on his fang and nudge it to its edge. A sting. And our
tastes fuse in our mouths. Nox presses his chest against mine.
His hands glide from my wrists to my jaws, anchoring me in place.
As he leans in, he savors me, tasting me. He breaks the kiss, our
blood seeping down his lips and chin. I lick it and swallow.
"You need me?"
"Asshole." He smiles at me. "I need you to eliminate those who
will not cooperate."
"And satisfy you."
"That too."

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 CHAPTER 22

W ell… I trace a straight line on the list. Three done and do

not work. Nox is still… Nox. The others are dead. I should
concentrate on 4.The Reverse Love Potion and 5.Fear today.
The ‘Sweet Cauldron’ is a spectacle of sugar and shadows
today, where the scent of strawberry and caramel drift through the
air like an enchantment. Every inch of the shop is designed to
delight and is decorated to spook—glass jars filled with blood-red
licorice and the sizzling blood-suckers, shelves stacked with
pumpkin-shaped marshmallows, and cauldrons brimming with
sour-gummies that sting the tongue like a mischievous bee spell.
The ceiling is covered with tattered black fabric, like remnants of
a forgotten spell, swaying ever so slightly when the door opens.
Real cobwebs stretch across the corners. From the beams,
skeletons dangle on thin wires, their hollow eyes seeming to
follow anyone who dares to enter. Every customer has a story—a
witch child who insists on the biggest candy bar, an old warlock
reminiscing about the candy worm from past decades, a teenager
ghost sneaking in front of the vampire grandma.
Two days until Halloween.
 The neon sign flickers, casting funny shadows on the
pavement and the jack-o’-lanterns in the window seem to glow
just a little brighter than they should. Inside, the shelves tower
like haunted fortresses, stocked with chocolate bats and licorice
twists coiled like witches’ spells. I turn the sign to ‘Closed’. The air
is thick with the scent of sweets, but there’s an unsettling stillness
—no cheerful chatter, no rustling of candy wrappers. Only the
quiet hum of the old refrigerator and the occasional creak of
floorboards, as if someone—or something—is still browsing the
aisles.
The animatronic skeleton by the counter, meant to entertain
customers, twitches sporadically, as though aware of something
unseen. I cover the jar filled with fake severed fingers, jelly
eyeballs and candy bones. Turn off the fog machine hidden
behind the counter, which releases wisps of mist that creep along
the floor, curling around the base of the shelves like ghostly
whispers.
I walk to the back of the shop. The cauldron sits heavy, its
iron surface cold to the touch. I gather the wood, stacking it neatly
beneath the basin. A tattooed arm stretches to my left, and lights
the wood, watching as the flames flicker to life, licking at the base
and sending warmth creeping up the heavy metal.
"What are you doing here?"
"Good to see you too, nightshade." He stands up and starts
pacing around the room, examining assorted bottles.
I pour in the first ingredient—one cup of sugar. I use a thigh
bone to scrape against the sides as I stir, coaxing the sugar to
melt and bubble. The femur is clean, obviously. The scent of
caramel begins to unfurl into the air, rich and sweet. One and a
half cup of honey and one cup of spiderweb. They melt into the
mixture, thickening into something smooth and glossy. But sticky.
"What’s this?"
"Love potion." I sprinkle in 1/2 teaspoon of the citric acid and the
edible glitter. As the mixture thickens, turning glossy and velvety,
the steam rising from the cauldron carries the warmth around my
hands.
"So you cheat. Sneaky, sneaky little witch." He leans on one of
the counters.
"I have special customers." I pour one cup of water and ¼ cup of
berry juice and let the mixture boil.
"How did it end up into the candy?" He slides his hands into his
pants pockets.
I remember following the same steps before the chaos
started. I know everything by heart. Every single ingredient. The
cauldron was bubbling, thick swirls curling into the air. I reached
for the berry juice, but my fingers—I was distracted by a sudden
yell—close around the wrong bottle. A single drop spilled into the
mixture, shimmering pink, not red as it used to, dissolved into the
candy like it was always meant to be there. But then, the scent
shifted—suddenly warmer, richer, intoxicating in a way no
ordinary flavoring should be. The bubbles rise slower, almost
dreamily, the mixture growing thick as if resisting the bone spoon.
The steam curling from the cauldron no longer drifted aimlessly
but reached, stretched, curled into a heart. The mixture gleamed
with an unnatural shimmer, luring the eye, making the heart beat
just a little faster when eaten. I had no idea.
"Accident." I unseal the blood bag, and Nox focuses his eyes on
it. Carefully pouring the fresh blood into the cauldron, I look over
at Nox, being busy with taking out a cigarette. With a swift toss, I
send the bag to him. I begin to stir at once, mixing diligently to
prevent any clogs.
"Thanks." He laughs and tastes the blood from the satchel. "What
the fuck?" He spits out.
4.The Reverse Love Potion. I added nightshade tincture,
bloodroot poison, holy water infusion and garlic extract to the
blood, because they all have a long history of medical and toxic
uses. Not THAT poisonous for vampires. Believed to only
paralyze them. Adding extra hawthorn, or vervain could kill.
Inserting witch laugh.

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 CHAPTER 23

T he moment the liquid touches my tongue, there is an

immediate sharpness—a distinct contrast to anything sweet
or mild. My taste buds react fast, drawing attention to the deep,
earthy, or medicinal flavors. It is a bracing jolt, like strong black
coffee mixed with a bad herbal tonic or dark ale. As the bitterness
spreads, it awakens a dryness in my mouth with a slight
puckering sensation.
Neo walks around me like a black cat poised to attack. She
is intrigued. Anticipating eagerly what is about to unfold. Did she
just poison me? Not that it matters. My heart is cradled in this rib
cage of mine, but only she knows how to feed it. Drop by drop.
"Well?" Her hand dances lightly on my shoulder, pausing just
before me.
"Oh, are you bored, love?" I wipe my lips with my thumb. She
takes hold of my cheeks and tugs me toward her.
"Open!"
My hands encircle her waist, drawing her in to me. "Make me."
"You can talk, so that’s not a good sign." She looks into my eyes.
Embodying both allure and terror. Her form is captivating—
elegance draped in darkness. She moves with unnatural grace,
each step measured yet effortlessly, as if the world itself bends to
her will. Her eyes, sharp, glow with an eerie fire—perhaps molten
horrors or a deep abyssal black that swallows light, disguised in a
green shade. A smirk plays on her red lips, balanced between
amusement and cruelty. "Hmm."
"Disappointed?"
"Yes." She lets go of my cheeks and strides to the counter. Her
focus sharpens as she strikes through a task on her list. "What
are you afraid of?"
"You couldn’t take that from me." I head over to the fridge and
pick up a Coke for myself.
"So you are afraid of losing something." There’s a certain weight
in her stare. The kind that lingers too long, becoming almost
palpable on my body. Those devil eyes on her target. I love it.
"I was sure you would know by now."
"Your cross bike." She claps her hands like an ecstatic child.
"Pretty close." I take a sip of Coke, seeking relief from the sting
on my tongue. I need cigarettes.
"Damn it." She taps the orange pen to her lower lip, her mind lost
in contemplation. "I need to test ‘Fear’. That should make the
poisoned ones forget about ‘love’." Neo walks to me and brushes
her fingers on my wrist, taking away the coke bottle from my
hand. "Sit!"
Her voice takes a softer tone, the words dripping with
intrigue and playful challenge. I sink into the chair, already eager
for whatever she will do to me next. She approaches me slowly.
Our knees touch. Her posture is steady but relaxed, one hip
slightly shifted, weight balanced in a way that suggests
confidence. The subtle tilt of her head—curious, assessing—adds
to the hot moment. From my seated position, I gaze up at her,
catching the way the soft glow of light brushes against her face,
highlighting every delicate angle. Her arms are crossed, fingers
tapping on her skin. Neo lowers herself, her hands resting on my
thighs.
"Snakes?"
I crave to kiss her, an electrifying spark igniting my soul. I want to
pull her onto my lap, never letting her slip away. Together, I
envision our bones intertwining. Rooting deep into the earth.
Neo rotates her wrist and a snake appears coiled around her
palm and fingers. Hot. How did she do that?
The sensation of the snake slithering against my leg now is
unmistakably eerie and mesmerizing at the same time. Its
movement is both fluid and deliberate—a cool, dry pressure
gliding along me in rippling waves. Unlike the slimy feel many
might expect, its scales create a textured friction, like tiny
overlapping armor brushing against my pants. There’s a subtle
constriction as it coils and adjusts its grip, muscles shifting
beneath its patterned skin. Its weight, though light, is present
enough to make me smile. She clicks her tongue in
disappointment and removes the snake from my lap.
She steps over to one of her shelves and collects a jar.
Inside it, a big spider has been captured for hell knows how long.
Delicate strands of silk weave through the space, a chaotic tangle
of silver threads stretching from edge to edge. Some parts are
wispy, barely visible except in the right light, while others are
thickened with layers of past constructions. Tiny specks of debris
cling to the web, remnants of past meals, creating a hunting
sense of abandonment.
"Take it out."
"I was expecting you to put it on my face."
"I won’t touch that shit." She passes me the jar, and I lift it in front
of my face to view the spider. "You are not afraid of it?"
"No." I grip the lid of the jar, feeling cold beneath my touch. I twist
the lid gently, the slightest resistance before it loosens with a soft
click. Inside, the spider stirs. Motionless at first, its delicate legs
poised on the tangled web, sensing the shift in pressure. Neo
walks to the other side of the room.
"You are afraid of spiders." My fingers hover above the creature. I
move them slowly, making sure my touch is light. Its legs brush
against my skin. There is a light weight to it—only the gentle
tickle of movement as it adjusts, testing the unfamiliar terrain of
my palm. I walk to Neo, and horror clutches her immaculate face.
"Stop it!" I can sense her heart racing faster.
I return the spider to the jar and tighten the lid on it, setting it
down on the counter. I can see Neo finally gasping for air again.
My walk to her is slow, steady but soft. I scan her face with
concern. I stop, keeping a comfortable distance for her.
"You tell me when I am allowed to…" She starts walking towards
me. I open my arms. The impact. A full- force embrace, warm, the
kind that lifts you off your feet and pulls you so close you forget
anything else exists. In this moment, our world disappears,
replaced only by the presence of each other. I lower myself just
slightly. Her head tucks beneath my chin, fitting perfectly against
me, like she is meant to be held this way by me. Her arms wrap
tightly around my waist, fingers curling into my back. Her weight
leans into me, trusting, comfortable.
"Who did this to you?"

"You got me a helmet?" Her tears are hardened to her cheeks,

but my thumb guarantees to brush them away fully. She locked up
the shop and we’re in front of my trail bike now.
"I did." I put mine on.
"It’s purple." She lifts the helmet and inspects it.
"I thought you would like that. You can add stickers to it if you
want. Personalize it."
"I really do, thank you!" She lifts herself on her toes and kisses
my cheek.

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 CHAPTER 24

T he engine rumbles beneath me, vibrating through my whole

body as the bike jolts forward. Nox said I’ll do just fine as ‘a
backpack’. That means me behind him. I grip him tightly, my
hands wrapped around his waist, leaning slightly into him for
balance. Every bump sends a shock through my limbs, every turn
tilts me into the movement, forcing me to trust Nox completely.
The scents of earth and gasoline fill my lungs. I am going to kill
him. Someday… He is just a teddy bear. For now.

I sprint down the stairs, heart racing at the news. Zilla is

already lacing up her boots.
"I can’t believe it." Her tone is trembling, yet slightly pleased.
"Do we know for sure it’s a fire?" I slide my feet into my shoes.
"I’ll stay until that shit is nothing but ashes!" That feeling—of
knowing something is inevitable before it unfolds, crawling under
my skin. Its sharp claws puncturing my veins, making my insides
bleed to attract my attention.
 Zilla parks the car next to the forest near the orphanage. Or
what was left behind, like echoes of a faded memory. We grew up
in here. Zilla never met her parents, while my mother died giving
birth to me. The Coven. Never a home. It was a sanctuary for
witches to master the art of magic. Failures incurred the dark
consequences of magical punishment. I was punished a lot. They
tucked me in a dark room woven with spider silk, a whispering
nightmare. Each night, tiny spiders performed their eerie dance,
tickling my skin. For days, I cried, haunted by those long legs that
crept across my flesh. The sensation filled me with dread, igniting
my deepest fears. Zilla’s punishment… She witnessed the
heartbreaking spectacle of them taking the lives of animals. This
sorrow ignited a passion, a calling, propelling her to become a
vet. Terror hung thick around the Coven, casting shadows of fear.
Yet, in its dark embrace, we were fed and we discovered our
inner witches.
The flames consume the structure, sending thick smoke into
the air as heat radiates outward. The fire crackles and roars,
windows shatter from the intense temperature, and debris falls as
the building weakens. The bright glow illuminates the
surroundings. I can feel the flames warming up my skin and Zilla
is smiling. A vile smile. Emergency crews rush in, working
tirelessly to contain the blaze, while onlookers watch in shock.
Something attracts my attention to my right. A shadow shifts
between the trees, barely visible against the darkness. I walk to it.
I strain my eyes, catching fleeting glimpses of movement—a
figure slipping through the undergrowth, careful, calculated. The
moonlight filters through the branches, casting eerie patterns on
the forest floor.
Nox is leaning against a tree trunk, a cigarette in his mouth.
He makes use of wipes to clean his hands. I walk to him and
seize his wrist, raising it to my nose. A blend of gasoline and mint.
"What did you do?"
"Played with fire."

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 CHAPTER 25

I t’s All Hallow’s Eve and I still have plenty to accomplish. The
store is accessible for part of the day. I still need to kick Nox’
ass for setting fire to the orphanage due to my panic. And I have
to kill him tonight. I can’t delay it anymore. Nothing from Zilla’s list
is working.
He burned the building and killed every single monster that
was in it. Because of my terror. Because I told him what
happened to us. He released the girls who were inside. They are
free because of Nox. My heart races just a little faster, as if it’s
keeping up with the joy bubbling inside me. I catch myself smiling
for no reason, thoughts drifting toward him, replaying the
moments that make my chest feel light. I like him... But he is
poisoned.

Zilla talked me into trick-or-treating tonight, so I am totally on

board. Naturally, she’s donned her feline finest—the mysterious
allure of Cat-woman. I dress as the female devil. Everything
black: leather mini skirt, a corset—made of satin, in a deep night
shade that adds timeless elegance, a gothic piece that laces up in
the front… for convenience— thigh-high leather boots and gloves.
A headband hidden in my raven hair with bright red devil horns
and a pitchfork. Red lipstick, smoky eyes and a sharp eyeliner for
the drama.
The crisp autumn air carries the scent of fallen leaves and
distant bonfires as groups of costumed children roam the streets.
Porch lights glow warmly, illuminating homes decorated with eerie
cobwebs, flickering jack-o-lanterns, and ghostly silhouettes
swaying in the breeze. A trio of kids—one dressed as a witch,
another as a pirate, and the third as a tiny, mischievous vampire
—approach a doorstep, clutching their candy buckets tightly. The
door creaks open, revealing someone wearing a horror pumpkin
mask, splattered with real blood, a bowl brimming with treats in
his hands.
"Trick or treat!" the children chorus, their voices a perfect mix of
enthusiasm. With a chuckle, the man drops handfuls of candy into
their buckets, earning grateful grins before the kids scamper off to
the next house, eager for more sugary treasures. Down the
street, a werewolf and a skeleton argue over who got the best
candy haul. The night hums with excitement, the perfect blend of
spookiness and joy.
A haunted house inside the building I assume Nox lives in.
The moment I step through the creaking doorway, the air turns
cool. A dim light casts eerie shadows on the walls, twisting
familiar shapes into something far more sinister. A slow, steady
yell echoes from somewhere unseen, and distant whispers seem
to slither through the darkness, just beyond reach. Cobwebs
brush against my skin as I pass beneath a sagging archway,
sending a shiver down my spine. A sudden gust of wind slams the
door shut behind me, trapping me in its unsettling embrace.
‘Welcome’ someone yells. Its voice more of a robot sound. At
least I am not alone. Four other girls enter before me.
Ahead, a staircase looms, its steps vanishing into shadow.
The flicker of candlelight reveals fleeting glimpses—a pair of
glowing eyes in the corner, a shadow darting across the hallway,
an old rocking chair swaying though no one sits upon it. The
silence is broken by a low, guttural laugh from somewhere deep
within the house, followed by the faint, metallic scrape of
something being dragged along the floor. I climb the stairs and
something from inside the wall grabs my wrist for a second, then
it lets me go, laughing. I love this. A long, dark hallway. As I walk,
I scrape my pitchfork on the wooden floor. One of the girls
screams and then the others laugh.
Someone sneaks up behind me and wraps their arms
around my waist, ushering me into one of the rooms. I gasp as
the door clicks shut. The sound of the key turning echoes like
thunder in my ears. He leans in, his mask hovering near.
Cigarette smoke with notes of amber, blood orange, wood and
leather contribute to his wild scent. I feel my thighs burning.
"Nice house." I push his chest away from me. It’s dark. I can
barely see his mask. He switches the lights on, and I look around
the room. His room. A coffin in the middle of it.
"You sleep inside a coffin?" I lean the pitchfork on the wall.
"No. I said I’ll taste you inside it."
I lift his skull mask and he winks. His hand over my shoulder, on
the wall. I tug at his shirt, pulling him closer. Our lips brush. "And
have me bent over it." I kiss him. I don’t know why I just did that.
His tongue meets mine, and his hand moves from the wall to my
neck. Again, the perfect choker.
"Like the good girl that you are, you have other plans, don’t you?"
"I am a good girl, I am finishing what I started." I caress his neck
tattoo with my lips. A soft, sweeping lick, and my fingers eagerly
explore beneath his shirt. Every single muscle.
"Mmm." It’s the only thing he can say before I put my mouth on
his again.

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 CHAPTER 26

I can taste the strawberry from her lipstick. The spice making my
tongue sting. Both her hands touch my belt, and I pause her.
She smiles. Gripping my belt, she softly nudges me, and my legs
collide with the coffin behind me. Her fingers press on my
shoulder, a sign for me to sit. I will follow through on everything
she will ever wish. I am absolutely obsessed with her. She is so
fucking hot.
She places the mask back on my face and strolls to the wall
where her pitchfork awaits her. That ass is swaying beneath that
leather skirt, rousing even the dead. Her hands wrap around the
handle of the devil’s fork and I wish they were gripping my cock
right now. She twists slowly and ambles back to me. Between my
knees, she pauses, lifting my mask away.
"Pretty boys don’t need masks."
I laugh and her eyes are poised on my fangs. Her thumb glides
over my bottom lip. She lifts my chin and kisses me again. I hoist
her onto my lap and clasp her waist firmly against me. She smiles
when she feels me hard.
"I want to ride you before I kill you."
"Do it while I am still inside you."
"Aren’t you afraid?"
"I am already dead."
"Nothing works... I somehow have to undo the spell on you."
"The spell?"
"I poisoned everyone when I dropped the love potion into the
cauldron."
"And I thought you loved all the attention."
She scoots closer, her breasts pressed against my chest. "This is
not love."
"I was absolutely bewitched by you…" Her emerald eyes pierce
my soul. But just before words escape her lips, I steal a kiss.
"Long before I savored your poisoned candy."
Her eyes grow big. "What?"
"I am in love with you, nightshade. The candy just made it fun."
"I tried to kill you several times."
"Loved every single detail you put into it."
"You are lying…"

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 CHAPTER 27

H is actions. It makes sense… everything he did was for me.

It’s a slow unraveling—the kind that catches you off guard,
then wraps around you like a warm, melting candy. Sometimes,
love is unexpected—like a skeleton popping out of a closet. But
once you recognize it—the love, not the dead body—it shifts
everything.
Of course we had sex on that coffin. While we kissed and
licked each other, I was riding him. No blood, though. If I want to
keep him close, I need a leash. Mine will be crafted of telling him
my blood is his when he behaves like a good little bat boy.
I am in love with him. THIS little bat wrapped his wings
around my heart the moment I held my knife on his cock.

We walk on the street, and he steals candy from a kid for me

since he knows I'll complain that we missed trick-or-treat. Hot.

Eagerly anticipating the winter's spooky wonders, I imagine frosty

tales unfolding. I know he’ll unleash a playful fury, decapitating
every snowman in sight just for me.
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 THE END
...
FOR NOW (see you on Christmas Eve)

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 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I have to start by thanking my little pony proofreaders Clara
Delage, Andreea Stancu and Annemette de Haan. You ladies
saved this book and your reactions were the best! That group is
chaos and I love it! Thank you!
Thank you to the ‘Nox is hot crew’ for being my ARC readers.
Your ratings and reviews mean so much to me and helped this
book a lot!
To my two gremlin boys and their dad for taking them out of the
house so I can write. Love you!
This book is dedicated to the souls who enjoy to be spooky
and love Halloween.

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 ADDITIONAL/FUTURE WORKS BY THE AUTHOR

BEWITCHED II: Creepmas

December 2025

BEWITCHED III: Easterween

April 2026

THE IMPALER’S LEGEND

gothic romance
- Available on KU and Amazon

THE IMPALER’S LEGEND- A PREQUEL: BLOODBOUND

2026

THE IMPALER’S LEGEND- A SEQUEL: BLOODLINE

2026

UNTIL I HEAL
military/medical romance
2027

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Transylvanian writing about vampires.

Need she say more?

Eva, a 31-year-old mother of two, thrives as a registered emergency nurse. Her love
for care-giving blossomed during years of service on one of the two ambulances in her
small hometown in the heart of Transylvania. Myths and traditions captivated Eva's
imagination from an early age, sparking a silent passion that would shape her future.
Her Transylvanian roots nurtured a passion for fantasy. Childhood explorations of
Dracula's iconic sites fueled a love for the genre's magic and mystery.

Pale-skinned and iron-deficient, she battled anemia throughout her school years.
Classmates teasingly dubbed her a vampire, a nickname she now recounts with humor
despite its roots in her ongoing health struggle. Might be, the perk of being
Transylvanian. Eva, a soft-spoken visual artist, is outstanding in pen work. Her talent
grew as she taught children the joys of painting and sketching. Through the arts club,
she nurtured young minds while honing her craft. Fluent in four languages, Eva shaped
this novel from start to finish in English.

Always finds bliss in idealizing her world- from the beauty of nature to human creativity
and connections. Always, always, always be kind.

"Vampire kisses and bat wings hugs.”

evaRebiuh

author.evaRebiuh

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