Requiem

Being buried alive gives you a new perspective on life.

Like how to get even with the cocksucker who put you in the goddamn coffin.

I’m kidding. Sort of.

Nah, not really. Okay, yes, really. The only thing I can think of is the torment my future self will inflict on the motherfucker.

There will be torture. Check.

A prolonged beating. Double-check.

And let’s not forget a little light maiming, like cutting off his dick and shoving it down his throat.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Who am I kidding? I’ll never be able to do any of those things. But a girl can dream.

I mean, I was just buried alive. That’s enough to give anyone a new outlook on life. Right?

A clump of dirt falls from the lid above, slapping my forehead. I spit the grit from my mouth. The mineral-rich taste coats my tongue.

What’s that old saying? “A dirt nap.”

Fuck, who came up with that shit anyway?

Because I can tell you this much: they’ve never taken a dirt nap, or in my case, had dirt for a naptime snack.

I try to roll onto my side and wince. A dull ache pounds in my temples. The pain reverberates through my entire body. It’s as if my brain is doing a little dance inside my skull, and it’s not the two-step. No, it’s a full-blown tap-dance routine, complete with a soft-shoe shuffle and a few high kicks for good measure.

What the fuck? I can’t feel my fingers. Or at least, I don’t think I can feel them.

An overwhelming fear sets in. I can’t stop my body from trembling. The movement sends shock waves of pain rippling through my frame, jarring me to the core.

Oh, God, I’m gonna lose my shit.

My erratic breathing makes my chest hurt. I hyperventilate for a few minutes until a little voice inside my head tells me to get a grip. That only makes me feel even madder and more fucked up than before.

Get a grip? Really?

If I could reach up and bitch slap the ever-living shit out of the person who said that, I would.

But since that’s not possible, I tell the little voice to fuck off. Then I’m forced to have a little conversation with myself.

“Okay, Lark, you’re not dead. You’re not dead. You. Are. Not. Dead.” The words tumble out of my mouth. I’m not sure if I whispered them, said them aloud, or screamed them at the top of my lungs.

What the fuck does it matter anyway?

My words bounce off the wooden enclosure, the muffled echo returning to my ears. The sound only makes me feel even crazier.

Am I dead?

The question sends a fresh wave of fear washing over me. My body trembles again, and I curl into the tightest ball my aching body will allow. Goosebumps break over my skin. My teeth chatter like little wooden wind chimes.

Am. I. dead?

The words scream inside my head, like a fucking air raid siren complete with a flashing red light and a message scrolling across my brain: Red alert. Red alert. Dead girl thinking.

I’m not sure how long I lay there, trapped inside my mind, but the sound of footsteps above startles me, ripping me from my self-induced insanity. The ground rumbles with each impact, making me feel like I’m part of an oversized drum snare in a marching band.

“Help me.” Those two words become a mantra, spoken over and over until my throat burns and my voice goes hoarse.

Nothing. Not a fucking thing.

If I can hear them, why the fuck can’t they hear me?

Shit. I am dead. Son of a bitch.

I didn’t even get to feel, taste, or ride a cock.

“Look at what I found,” a male voice says, pulling me out of my virgin pity party.

A feminine giggle follows. Seconds later, the giggling gives way to the sound of moaning and groaning.

“I told you to shut her up,” the male voice says, his words coming out in a huff.

Well, well, well. I recognize that asshole’s voice. It’s Hawk Rockefeller, the man I can now officially name as the fucker who buried me alive.

“Please. I tried,” a woman says between sobs. “But, but, but she kept hitting me.”

Hmm, I know that voice, too. It’s one of the bitches who lured me to my almost-death. Willow—the overly dramatic cunt, who, by the way, can’t take a fucking punch.

Yeah, I’m not bitter at all.

Wait. What?

“Kept hitting you?” Hawk’s condescending tone does nothing to hide his displeasure, making him come off as a pompous prick. “And just how did she manage to do that? The bitch was tied?”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh reaches my ears, followed by a yelp.

“Ow,” Willow says, her words a plea for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Hawk. I won’t do it again. I promise. I promise. I promise.”

Hawk’s next words take on a softer, almost loving tone. “I know you won’t, Willow. After all, you wouldn’t want to disappoint me.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t. I mean, I don’t. I mean, yes, of course...”

The man’s an ass, but Willow’s a grown-ass woman, and she sounds pathetic as fuck.

What the fuck did I do to him?

Oh, yeah. Now I remember.

One should never tell a scary-ass guy with a bad attitude that she—that would be me—needs a magnifying glass to see his dick.

A vision of him slapping the shit out of me comes to mind, and it makes me laugh. Not a simple ha-ha laugh, but a full-on belly-roll.

What the fuck?

My brain struggles to reconcile the mirth coming out of my mouth. And then the realization of why I’m laughing bitch-slaps me, and it only makes me laugh harder.

I’ve officially lost my fucking mind.

The laughter continues to bubble out of me in short bursts, making my body twitch. My hands slap over my mouth to muffle the manic shit.

What the hell did I take last night? More importantly, what the fuck did he give me?

The memory of my last meal comes to mind. A Cobb salad, a glass of water. I was working on an article when a text hit my phone. Two of them, actually.

UNKNOWN: It starts now.

UNKNOWN: The Fallen

The next thing I knew, I was in the back of a car, bitching at my masked captors. Bee, my roommate, also bound and gagged, sat next to me with two other women.

Bee.

Fuck. What did they do to her?

My mind starts to race. My body grows even colder. A deep-seated fear takes root, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Did they bury her? And what about the other women?

The thought sends another wave of hysterical laughter spilling out. It feels forced and only adds to the growing fear.

No way. They wouldn’t do that. Would they?

The laughter stops as quickly as it started. A whimper slips out of my dry mouth.

“Please, don’t do this,” the words come out in a soft whisper.

What the fuck is wrong with me? The fear of impending death has me questioning my sanity.

I’m not a survivor. Nope, I’m a failure.

The sound of wood scraping against wood sends my heart pounding. A fresh wave of adrenaline floods my system. Fight or flight. Who makes this shit up?

My body feels heavy. The ache in my bones intensifies. I just want the nightmare to end.

The lid to the box—no, the wooden fucking coffin—swings open and hits the ground. The hollow thud sends a fresh wave of fear over me, and the man standing there doesn’t help matters.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” His smug-ass grin widens his mouth, making his teeth resemble a fucking wolf’s.

What the holy fuck? Is he a goddamn werewolf?

I take a long look at him, searching for signs of a partial shift, like fur or a tail. But the longer I stare, the clearer his body becomes. He’s all man, from his head to his... oh, hello, big boy.

The outline of his massive dick juts out of his pants. The impressive bulge makes me wonder if the man has a twelve-inch cock or if he’s just happy to see me.

My gaze snaps back to his. The smirk on his face tells me he knows exactly where I was looking. I clear my throat, trying to put distance between us, but my body won’t cooperate.

What the fuck? I can’t feel my legs.

Oh, shit.

“I can’t feel my legs,” I croak.

“Is that so?” The asshole’s eyes roam over my body like a caress. “Don’t worry. You’re all there, sweetheart.”

“No, no, you don’t understand.” I don’t know if I’m moving my head or not. “I mean, I can’t move my legs.”

His face, which had been handsome seconds ago, now looks grotesque, like a mask pulled too taut. “Are you sure about that?”

Asshole. What a fucker.

“Yes, I’m sure.” My words come out as a barely-there slurred whisper.

My mind races. “Fuck. Am I paralyzed?”

Surely, I’m not paralyzed. My brain is just playing fucked-up tricks on me, right?

The ground rumbles. A shadow falls over me. A low growl rips through the air.

What the fuck is that?

My body trembles. I struggle to pull up a blanket that isn’t there. My gaze flicks to the source of the shadow, and my mouth snaps open in a silent scream.

Above me, round copper-colored eyes stare back, unblinking. The shadow’s head is massive. It’s sniffing my hair.

Oh, God. I’m going to die. I’m its next meal.

“Get your fill, and then I’ll dispose of the bitch,” Hawk says.

Wait. What?

The thing nuzzles my neck, rubbing its fur-covered face against my skin the way a large housecat would. Only, this thing isn’t a goddamn cat. No, it’s a fucker of the canine persuasion, a big-ass motherfucking dog, and it’s sniffing my crotch now.

What the fuck?

“Hey, down, boy,” Hawk says, sounding like he’s the owner. “That’s not for you.”

Too late. The beast opens its mouth, clamps down on the waistband of my silk sleep shorts, and tugs, pulling me across the ground.

I slide right into Hawk’s legs. Instead of helping, the fucker wraps his arms around me, drawing me to him.

“You’re going to give him the wrong idea,” I say, my voice a breathy whisper.

He doesn’t say anything. He just buries his nose in my neck and takes a long, deep breath. A soft mew escapes my mouth. His scent fills my nose. Instead of pushing him away, I cling to him, my fingers curling into his shirt. He smells like... life.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

His body is hard, lean, and muscular. The rise of his erection bumps against my hip. The warmth seeps into mine, and for the first time since waking up in the goddamn coffin, I feel a shred of normalcy.

I’m alive. I’m fucking alive.

The feel of his lips is too tempting to resist. I tilt my head back, offering my mouth to him. The moment my lips brush against his, the softness of his kiss makes me want to melt. He’s like a drug, and I’m more than happy to indulge.

The kiss starts slow, but the heat ignites fast. His mouth claims mine, taking what he wants, leaving me breathless and wanting more.

My head is still reeling when he pulls me into his lap, making sure I can feel every inch of his hard-on. The movement makes me feel like a wanton slut, but I don’t care. I’m more than happy to grind my growing need against his straining erection.

Who knew a near-death experience makes a person horny as fuck?

The kiss, the warmth, and the growing need between my legs make me forget the looming threat—the beast of a dog.

Where did that furry fucker go?

Hawk’s hand slides to my shorts and then over my hip. One of his large hands slaps my ass cheek. The touch shocks me, making me yelp.

A ripple of masculine laughter. His deep, rich voice only adds to the thrum of sexual energy.

His hands cup my ass. He lifts me, spreads my legs, and drags my crotch to his. I can feel the warmth of his body against my most intimate part.

The dog, now with its massive head on the ground, stares at us. His eyes roam over me. He sticks his tongue out and licks Hawk’s hand.

A series of grunts, growls, and whimpers leave the beast’s mouth. His massive dog tongue makes contact with my bare legs. My body jerks. Another lick follows, and another, and another...

Oh, fuck me.

The fucker’s tongue feels like five of them, and they’re all over my legs, feet, and toes. I try to pull away, but I can’t. The more I squirm, the more I slide against Hawk’s fabric-covered hard cock, and the movement only makes me want to moan in ecstasy.

The next swipe of the dog’s tongue slides between my toes, tickling. My body trembles. I’m wet. And I mean, I’m so fucking wet. Not just from the dog’s tongue bath, but from grinding against Hawk. The only thing I crave is for the dog to go away, Hawk to keep grinding, and for someone, anyone, to fuck me and put an end to the insanity that has now taken over my brain.

The beast’s head pops up. His eyes twinkle with mischief. He leans down and takes half my foot inside his massive mouth.

The moment his tongue makes contact with the bottom of my foot, I scream, making a U-turn straight to crazy town.

“Get the fuck off me, you crazy son of a bitch!” His tongue, the size of a goddamn serving spoon, smacks my bare skin. “Goddamnit. No, no, no. Stop licking me!”

The words only make the fucker wag his tail.

“You furry fucker, if you don’t stop—”

Hawk wraps his arms around me, pulling me away from the dog. “She’s not for you.” His mouth waters, and the gleam in his eyes tells me he’s no better than the dog. “I already had a taste of the Fallen, and she’s mine.”

“You bastard.” My eyes narrow on the man. I shake my head, unable to believe what just happened. “You’re an asshole, just like your dog.”

Hawk’s grin widens. He’s full-out laughing. “Come on, sweetheart.” He manages to talk between chuckles. “Don’t insult the dog like that. He’s got more manners and self-control in one paw than both of us combined.”

“Fuck you,” I say. “And I’m not your goddamn sweetheart.”

My arms cross over my chest, trying to cover the scrap of fabric that no longer covers my dignity.

“If you insist.” A wolfish grin spreads his lips.

The walls of my pussy flutter.

What the fuck is wrong with me?