HauntingAdie {1}

C33

CHAPTER 33
The Manipulator
T he light from the T.V. blares across the dark room as the news reporter’s voice
rings out.
“…The murders of the four government officials are still under investigation.
The autopsy reports have been released to the public, revealing extreme torture
before the men had died.”
A mugshot of a girl is pictured on the screen. She’s a pretty girl, with plain
brown hair and brown eyes. The unsettling part is the look in her eyes. A single
glance is all it takes to know that she’s clearly unstable.
She was the broken doll I saw eating at the fair.
And she was in Annie’s Playhouse that night. Hiding in the walls and watching
every guest that came through. At one point, she looked at me and probably made
a decision on whether she was going to kill me or not.
I shudder, knowing how close I could’ve come to death that night.
Snatching up the remote, I click off the T.V., shaking as I throw the remote
back on the couch.
The asshole fucked me and then went and murdered a bunch of men with a
psychotic chick.
Mark fucking Seinburg is one of the men, along with three other government
officials I had met while standing in line for Annie’s Playhouse. He had said he
had business to take care of with a psycho chick, and for some reason, him going
off to murder people was the last thing I had expected.
Stupid. That’s what he does, Addie. Murder people.
The fear and anxiety are overwhelming. I knew he killed people. Arch's hands
showing up on my doorstep was proof of that. His entire family being wiped
out…
I knew he was a murderer. He admitted it. But somehow, seeing his heinous
crimes broadcasted on live television is eye-opening. He murdered four
government politicians.
This isn’t just a boy playing dress-up with a mob boss’s suit and handgun. Arch
was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But this… this is big.

Did Mark deserve it? Absolutely. But I was at his house. I was someone on his
radar. And now that he’s dead, what if they come for me?
Shit. You really are an idiot, Addie.
I rest my elbows on my knees and slump my head into my hands. My thoughts
are spiraling out of control.
Who cares if it happened to be the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had in my
life? And probably will ever have. The dude is just as crazy as the girl on screen.
He’s killed before, and he’s obviously going to do it again, and what if he tries
to take out the goddamn President next? Or someone else with connections to
some very unhinged people?
I just don’t think I’m okay with that. I look up at the screen again, a news
reporter standing in front of flashing siren lights at Satan's Affair.
I’m just not okay with this. With the fear that some terrifying people are going
to come after me because Zade keeps killing off high-profile people. He’s a
goddamn serial killer.
I need to end things with him. For good.
It doesn’t matter what he makes me feel. He’s going to put my life in danger,
over and over. And how does someone just… be okay with that?
I’m rocking in Gigi's old chair when a flash of movement outside my window
catches my eye. My heart skips several beats when I find my shadow standing on
the other side, several feet away with that damn red cherry blaring in the night.
Fuck. He’s here.
He’s not going to listen to reason when I tell him to leave me alone. He never
did before, it won't be any different now. I need to figure out how the hell to get
him away from me permanently. Maybe I'll look into that bodyguard Daya spoke
about before.
But right now, the only thing I can do is call the police. They'll be here quick if
I lie and say I'm in serious danger, and in the meantime, I'll try to convince him to
leave.
Adrenaline and a heady mix of fear trickles into my bloodstream as I scramble
up and away from the window and look for my phone.
Looking around frantically, I tear apart the living room in search of my phone.
My heart is pounding, the sound resonating in my ears as my breath draws short
and choppy.
It takes several minutes before I finally find my phone lodged beneath a couch
cushion. When I straighten and glance out the window, I finally do freeze.
He’s gone.
Oh my fuck, where did he go?
Hands trembling, I dial in the numbers. 9-1-. I feel his presence press into my
back a moment before he plucks the phone from my hand. My breath hitches as he clears the numbers, and the phone disappears from view.
His breath tickles my ear as he leans in. “Were you about to call the police on
me?” he tsks. “And here I thought we were past this.”
My breath stutters. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Zade. I-I don’t want you.”
His quiet breathing is swallowed by the news reporter droning on in the
background.
Finally, he says, “When did you become such a liar?”
Closing my eyes, I take a steadying breath. And then I lift my leg and stomp on
his foot as hard as I can. He grunts, but before I can make a run for it, his arms
encircle my waist and trap me against him.
“That’s very naughty, little mouse. And you know what happens when you’re
naughty?” A heartbeat passes before he finally growls into my ear, “You get
fucking eaten.”
Fire licks at my insides, igniting my entire being from the inside out. His words
cause an elicit hunger to claw its way down from my throat, through my stomach,
and straight to the sensitive spot between my legs.
But I will not give in so easily. I will not let this man continue to get inside my
head—my body.
“I’m not your fucking prey.”
“Then why do you let me consume you?” he whispers before encircling his
hand around my throat and squeezing tight. Stubble pierces my skin as his cheek
rubs down the side of my own before his mouth descends on my neck. A sharp
nip pulls a gasp from my lips.
His hand tightens further while my breath shortens. Words rise to my tongue,
but they fail to release when a low growl vibrates from his chest, and throughout
my body.
“You know how much I love it when you run,” he rasps. His other hand travels
across my stomach roughly before sliding up to my heaving breasts.
He cups one in his hand and squeezes. I feel the blood rise, rushing to my face
as another whimper is wrung from my throat. My nipples are hardened into twin
peaks, rubbing almost painfully against the fabric of my bra. Once he bares me
completely, he’ll see the evidence that I’m enjoying this far more than I should.
Somehow, that always seems to be the case with him.
“Stop it,” I choke out, attempting to get away, but his grip holds firm,
tightening around my throat until black pinpricks dot my vision.
“You don’t want this, baby? You don’t want to be full of my cock and discover
a new religion each time I make you come?”
“You have a lot of faith in your abilities,” I croak.
He chuckles, as deep and dark as the ocean. “You need faith to be a believer.”
He cups me between my legs. “And this pussy deserves to be worshipped.”