Layla
I have a type, I’ll admit. Tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious. Dalton, unfortunately, checks off all of those boxes, even if our introductory conversation took an abrupt turn.
He obviously picked up on my irrational fear of the house somehow and decided to spin it to his advantage. I got the sense, during our short time together in the kitchen, that he enjoyed trying to scare me.
After my conversation with Curtis, I’d come to the conclusion that the house might just harbor bad memories but not ghosts and ghouls. I’d never outwardly admit that I’m more in tune with the energy of certain places, but after working in hospitals my entire career, I’ve often wondered if the things I’ve seen and heard held weight and weren’t just tricks of my mind.
Still, having someone else in the house now makes me feel slightly more secure in my surroundings as I go through my nightly routine with Aunt Penny.
She’s not near
DaltonThe cigar room on the second floor has been untouched since the early 1930s. The moth-eaten fabric that covers the furniture smells sharply of damp and mildew, and the once lively floral wallpaper is peeling from the walls, revealing horse-hair plaster beneath.I huff a breath as I look around, the darkened corners of the wide, square room beckoning to me. I ignore it, like usual, but that creeping sensation licking up my neck continually steals my attention as I lay out sheets of plastic across the mahogany floor and prepare to repair what wallpaper I can salvage.I’m not sure how I got into this line of work. My dad had been a contractor, and since it had just been me and him growing up, I spent a great deal of time following him from job site to job site, mingling with the various tradesmen and technicians he worked with day in and day out. He got a job in the Garden District in New Orleans–fixing up an old Greek Revival mansi
LaylaThe Black Penny in the French Quarter is definitely a dive, but everything is all lush, dark paint and leather, as I follow Bailey and her cousin, Adam, through the darkened threshold into the bar. Beyond the bar, the sidewalk is teeming with nightlife. Music flows through the street, mingling with riotous chatter and the occasionally drunken body swaying to the music in the middle of the road.We’d spent the day exploring New Orleans. I’m full of beignets, and my ears are ringing from the sweet sound of a saxophone as we saddle up to a high-top table near the front of the bar. Adam leaves to order drinks, disappearing into the throng of jazz music and lively conversation.“I’m so glad you came with us tonight!” Bailey exclaims over the noise, leaning in to brush the words directly into my ear. “You’ve been in a trance the past couple of weeks. I thought I’d never be able to get you out of the house!”“What do you mean?” Le
Layla“Uh, is this the address?”I look up, blinking to clear my blurry vision, and see that we’re idling at the rusted front gate to the Gregory Estate.“Yeah, this is it.”“I gotta be honest with you, ma’am. I don’t think my car is going to get down the driveway.” My driver’s not wrong. His sedan practically scrapes the ground as he pulls forward. The decaying concrete juts up in places, forced skyward by the relentless roots cutting through the cement.“It’s fine. I can walk.”“You sure? I could walk you down–”“Don’t worry about it,” I mumble, letting myself out of the car and shutting the door behind me. I take off my heels and rest my bare feet on the cool, solid ground. It feels good. The air is heavy with humidity, but a slight, chilled breeze clears my head enough for my gin-induced stupor to finally give way. “Thanks for the ride.”With that, I walk away, the Uber’s headlights fading be
DaltonI should throttle her. That’s exactly what I should have done when I had her pressed against that tree. She’s either completely dense or truly fearless.I honestly don’t know which is worse.Walking around the property at night is not something I’ll allow her to do again, even if it means keeping her chained to her bed. God, the thought of her tied up and at my mercy makes my balls tighten as I stalk around the side of the house toward the detached garage. I throw the door open, forcing the image of Layla naked and prone, her eyes heavy with desire, out of my mind.The garage is cool and dark as I close the door behind me. No one here uses the garage but me. I keep my old truck here, tucked out of sight. I reach through the open passenger window and grab the bottle of scotch I picked up earlier tonight and wrench the lid open. Leaning against the side of my truck, I take a drink. Then another,
LaylaI know I’m in a dream.The room around me is all white–creamy white curtains drifting in a phantom breeze, white walls glistening with warm sunshine. It feels like I’m out of my own body as Dalton lowers his head, his incredible green eyes shining like smooth jade. I wrap my arms around his neck while his lips hover over mine.He’s close enough I could kiss him. I want to. I wonder what he tastes like more than anything.“Tell me what you want, Angel.”“I want you,” I whisper, trailing my fingertips over the back of his neck.“Eyes on me,” he whispers, then lowers his head. I feel the briefest featherlight touch of his lips against my own before the dream disintegrates and I’m yanked back to startling reality.Naked and tangled in sweaty, damp sheets, I sit up and rub my eyes. My head throbs as the memories of last night
DaltonLayla’s covered head to toe in mud. She looks absolutely feral, and the fear and confusion in her eyes is notable as she loses her footing and falls right into my arms.Arm, actually. I keep my sketchbook raised above my head to prevent the mud and grime she’s plastered in from spilling onto the pages of fresh sketches I’ve been working on all morning.My other arm is roped around her waist as I haul her to her feet. She staggers backward, her mud laden sandals sliding off her feet. “D-Dalton!”“Layla?” I laugh, unable to help it. “What are you doing out here?”She screws her face into a scowl, her cheeks the color of ripe tomatoes, before she explodes, “I followed you, you fucking dickhead!”“Me? Why?”She looks me up and down, her expression shifting from outright fury to something I can only describe as utter bewilderment.
LaylaI watch Dalton disappear around the side of the house. My heart is still pounding in my chest as I rinse off my legs with the hose and stand in the sun to dry off for a moment. My wrist throbs where I sliced it open on the rose bush. That, or from the feeling of Dalton’s tongue gliding over my skin, which had felt… electrifying.I blush, then blow out my breath, wiping my wet, bare feet on the grass. I pick up my sandals and the mug I’d tossed in the yard before my ill-fated journey through the marsh and walk into the quiet house. I’m not sure where Dalton went, but after dumping my muddy sandals in the utility sink in the laundry room and walking up to my room, I gather he’s not in the house.I take a cold shower, scrubbing what feels like years’ worth of grime from my skin. I scrub and scrub until my skin is raw and aching and then wrap myself in a towel and sit on the edge of my bed in the h
LaylaI wrap my hand around the back of Dalton’s neck, my nails raking over his skin. His hair is like silk–soft and thick–and his skin is warm against my touch.He’s here; he’s real, and I’m safe.His lips brush against mine again in a silent invitation. My heart is still hammering in my chest as I close my eyes and part my lips, letting go of the crushing weight of the fear I’d just experienced and everything I thought I’d seen while running for my life through the house.His tongue slides over my lower lip–tasting me. I inhale a desperate breath before his tongue slides into my mouth, over my teeth, my tongue.He makes a low, throaty sound of pure male satisfaction before pressing his hand against my throat and deepening the kiss until I’m gasping for air.He tastes like salt and scotch. His leather and spice scent coils around me as he
JuliaAs a great woman once said, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.I stand in front of the mirror in the trendy boutique in New Orleans, examining the new strand of precious stones adorning my throat. I’d paid for the mind-blowingly expensive necklace using Jake’s platinum card, which had given me a small sliver of satisfaction.He’d called in the early hours of the morning, begging for me to forgive him. At first, I’d told him that there was no way in hell I’d let him come crawling back to me, but all the while, my heart ached until the burn was almost unbearable.One chance. That’s all I’ll give him.In the meantime, I’ll shamelessly spend down his accounts in preparation for the worst.Because it would be terrible if we divorced, wouldn’t it? I think wistfully of the lifestyle I’ve enjoyed over the last several years, excluding the months spent in solitude on the edge of a fetid swamp. I’d be losing much more than him if I left.Doubt continues to gnaw at me as I gather my bags a
JuliaI can’t stay here.Jake’s been gone all day. In fact, I hadn’t even heard him leave in the first place, and God only knows where he went. But I’m absolutely sure that I don’t want to be here when he gets back.If he comes back.Would that really be so bad, I wonder? It’s true that I hate it out here at the edge of the festering swamp, locked away in this big empty house with only ghosts for company. But without Jake tying me down, I could go anywhere, do anything.I could even find another man, one who would treat me better than the bastard I’d married.A fine blush rises in my cheeks as the memory of Zeke’s passion whispers across my lips. Guilt trickles through me in its wake. I can’t believe we’d kissed. As terrible as Jake’s actions have been, I’ve never once felt the need to seek out another man.But there is something about Zeke that beckons me, drawing me closer like a lighthouse in the dark. It isn’t just that he’shandsome, or even that he’snice to me. I have the uncanny
ZekeSomething dreadful happened last night.I’d been out in the swamp, enjoying the sound of the rain pattering off the soft fronds of the ferns in the underbrush when I’d noticed Jake stumbling drunkenly to the garage.Even worse, I watched from the shadows as he spoke to that thing as though he was just making another shady business deal. Though I wasn’t able to hear what Amos demanded, I think I have a pretty good idea what it is.Who it is.I watched Jake stagger around the property for a while before he got into his car and drove off. Good riddance, in my opinion.But I’m concerned for Julia. I don’t trust Jake for a second, and she doesn’t deserve to be used as a pawn in this sick game.And now I’m lingering at her front door, my hand raised and poised to press the doorbell. For a moment, I don’t think I can go through with it, but then the memory of Jake speaking with Amos flashes through my mind, and I know I have no other option. I have to make sure she’s all right.Thinking
JakeOh God, what have I done?Panic and desperation crash over me in unrelenting tidal waves, dragging me under until I’m drowning in them. I’m sitting on the bed in the guest room, holding my head in my hands and rocking back and forth.I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours, probably. At some point, I’d stumbled down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. It sits on the floor by my feet, the amber liquid significantly drained.The alcohol hadn’t helped. I’m unable to numb the tumult that roils inside of me.I hit my wife.She deserved it.The cold, foreign voice slithers through my mind, and I groan, trying to drown it out.I’ve done a lot of questionable things over the years, some more legal than others. And maybe, just maybe, I’d said things to intentionally hurt Julia in the past, but I’d never physically harmed her.Until tonight.She was asking for it.“Shut up!” I whimper, clawing at my temples. “Shut up!”I stand and start pacing in the small space between the bed
JuliaTears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over. But I know that if I start crying, I won’t be able to stop.“Get a fucking grip,” I mutter to myself.I’m lying on the couch in the living room, attempting to watch my favorite reality TV show. After I confronted Jake earlier, I haven’t been able to focus. Racing thoughts flutter through my brain like paper in the wind. I’d optimistically heated up a frozen dinner, but I’d only been able to pick at it before my nausea had overpowered my desire to eat. Now the meal sits, cold and congealed, on the coffee table, all but forgotten.I know I could call Nina for support, but I don’t want to go there until I have all of the facts. And the truth is, I don’t really have many of those at all right now.Yes, Jake’s reaction to my questions all but confirmed my suspicions that he’s nothing more than a cheating bastard. I have no doubt that he’s up to his old tricks, but this time, I’m not going to let him off so easily. I need cold, hard pr
JakeI’m not a coward.It’s not like I was scared and ran away because a fucking light bulb broke, or because the ensuing darkness seemed bigger somehow, alive. No, it was because I simply had business to attend to. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I pull up in front of the house at the edge of the swamp.Julia probably hadn’t even cared that I’d gone. After all, I’d texted her that I had to go out, and she hadn’t ever responded. Did she even notice I left? God, she sure knows how to make a guy feel wanted in his marriage.A streak of lightning skitters across the leaden sky, followed quickly by a peal of thunder so loud that the car practically rattles around me. It’s not raining yet, though the clouds that loom overhead are the color of a fresh bruise and promise an imminent downpour. Not wanting to ruin my vehicle, I decide to park in the garage instead of the driveway.The rain starts just as I pull inside. Water roars against the roof, and once closed, the automatic door do
ZekeGod, I feel so alive.I close my eyes and let the relentless eye of the sun beat down on me. What does it see when it looks at me? A man? Something more? Something less?And what does Julia see, I wonder?I know it’s dangerous to let my thoughts wander down this path, but it’s as though my mind has become untethered with possibilities. My hand curls around a phantom mug, remembering the feeling of the smooth porcelain against my palm and the heat radiating through my hand as Julia had questioned me with increasing interest.I’d just had coffee with Julia Carter.She wore no makeup, and her hair was mussed from sleep, but that had somehow only made her more beautiful. Her eyes, as green as moss, shone in the fresh morning light. I had the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her, to brush my fingertips over the soft curve of her lips, but propriety stopped me in my tracks.I wouldn’t disrespect Julia like that. She is too good for me to be thinking about her in such a way.To
JuliaI’m not sure what wakes me.It’s not the sun, that’s for sure. For some reason, the blinds are firmly shut, blocking the early morning light from filtering in through the glass.I blink the sleep from my eyes as I peer into the surrounding dimness. I’m lying in bed, the covers tangled around my legs as though I’d thrashed in my slumber. A dull soreness at the juncture of my thighs reminds me of exactly what Jake and I had been doing last night.But where is Jake now?His side of the bed is empty, the sheets cold and untouched.“Jake?” I call. My voice sounds muted in the still morning air.There’s no response.Sighing, I extract myself from the blankets. Goosebumps rise on my arms as the cool, conditioned air kisses my skin. I grab my robe and shrug it on against the chill before padding over to the bathroom.Like the bedroom, there’s no sign of Jake. I frown. This isn’t like him. Sure, he’s usually an early riser, but he’s not exactly quiet in the mornings. He runs the shower a
JakeThe closer I get to the house, the worse I feel.I notice it the moment I turn onto the winding drive that marks the entrance of the property. The car’s tires slide on the muddy, rutted road, and the frame of the vehicle is so low that I swear I can feel my fillings rattle as I maneuver down the potholed path. For once in my life, I actually regret owning such a fancy ride. This wouldn’t be happening in a truck or an SUV.Cypress branches close in overhead, blotting out the sun with feathery leaves and twisted, mottled wood. The trunks churn on either side of me, grotesque in their stature. Thick underbrush creeps into the road. For a moment, it feels like I’m all alone in this wild place.Dread mounts in my gut as I navigate the familiar turns of the drive. I have a terrible thought that the path will go on forever, that each twist in the road will simply guide me farther away from civilization.But then the trees part, and the mud shifts to patchy gravel that crunches satisfyi