Water’s Edge (A Series of Sharp Edges #1)

25. Ripp

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

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D ark water rages around the large boulders that dare to restrict its flow, cleansing its path of anything that came before. The sheriff is back down by the river, frantically searching for anything that could turn the investigation back toward Mattie. He doesn’t know I’ve already ensured he’ll find nothing, but it’s enjoyable to watch him scurry around like an ant looking for the last crumb to take back to the hive before winter.

He’s so desperate to tie all the disappearances in this area back to Mattie and the old cold cases he believes trace back to her father. His anxiety appears to be from more than just a desire to solve the case. His scent is also filled with guilt and worry. I suddenly wish I had been more interested in human affairs then, but only because I’d know more about her. Even after taking her to see the witch, I’m still at a loss for why she’s destined for this fate and how to complete the ritual.

The sheriff runs a hand through his disheveled hair and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He talks into it, but it doesn’t appear anyone is on the other line. “No further evidence implicating Mattie Gibson has been found, but something still doesn’t sit right with me. The hat that was previously found with the body parts matched the DNA of a suspect for several domestic assaults and attempted rapes. However, that suspect cannot be located at this time and is believed to be missing. Besides, the victim who was found is male and does not fit the MO of the suspect,” the sheriff dictates. “Mattie’s father, Ezra Gibson, was believed to be running a radicalized cult in this area twenty years ago before they found him floating in this same river. The group disbanded shortly after. I suspect Mattie is behind the death of her father and several other disappearances in this area.”

Interesting.

“ Based on the records, Mattie’s mother died under mysterious circumstances, believed to be suicide, and the family elected to have her buried on their property. No one came to claim Ezra’s body, and it was cremated by the funeral home.” The sheriff paces for a few more moments, wearing a trail into the muddy bank until he stops to light a cigarette.

I climb to a lower branch, directly over him, and inhale his putrid scent mixed with the toxic smoke he’s exhaling. I count each breath I allow him to take. Does he know how lucky he is?

His phone rings, obliterating the silence. The voice on the other end is loud enough that I don’t need to get any closer. “Sheriff,” the voice says hurriedly. “We found the truck. Body ain’t in it, but there’s a note in it confessing to the murder of the body we found and several others. Looks like this guy took himself out the same way.”

“Fuck,” the sheriff shouts, pulling the phone from his ear and staring at it angrily. “I’ll be right there.” The line disconnects, and he stomps away down the path he came here on.

I wait for him to get several paces down the trail before I climb down. Mist surrounds me as I bounce from one side of the path to the other. My movement makes just enough noise that the sheriff looks over his shoulder uneasily and quickens his pace.

“Hey,” I call out, mimicking the voice from the phone call. He stops and his legs wobble, but he doesn’t turn around, so I call out again. “Hey.”

Look at me, you coward.

He breaks out in a run, and the magic inside me rises like a crescendo. The chase is my favorite part. His footsteps fall heavier and faster, but not fast enough. His breathing is labored pants, and I suck in the cloud of fear emanating from him. He won’t reach the break in the tree line if I end our game now, but I can’t end this without her. She deserves a piece of this victory.

Instead, I reach out with tendrils of shadow and wrap them around his ankles. He falls face-first into the dirt with a grunt. The sheriff flops on the ground, struggling to turn on his back. Once he finally gets his hands underneath him, he scrambles backward, still on the ground. His eyes are slammed shut, and incoherent whimpers come from his mouth. Tears roll down his face, and I wait for the moment he’ll call out to a god that won’t save him.

When he finally builds enough courage to open his eyes, I stand before him as a bloated, pale version of the man whose truck he just found, the same man I sunk into the lake as a present for my little bug. Water drips from me as I take slow steps toward him.

“No, please,” he sobs. Bubbles of saliva pop from his mouth with the words.

“Let dead things lie, lest you wish to join them,” I say, this time using his own voice. A dark, wet stain appears on his brown uniform pants, and I let out a maniacal laugh. His feet suddenly decided to cooperate, and he sprints the last few feet out of the woods to his squad car on the side of the road. My laughter still echoes behind him.

Mattie walks into her room, humming softly to herself and drying her hair with a towel. I’ve been waiting on her bed, enjoying the sounds of her in the shower, where she’s called out my name at least twice. “I made the sheriff piss his pants today,” I laugh, breaking her train of thought.

She squeals, dropping the towel before quickly flashing me a dangerous expression. “I see you’re still stalking me,” she grumbles.

“You act as though I’ve planned to stop,” I say, raising an eyebrow at her. My cock grows rigid as I take in her glistening skin, her toned muscles stretching with each movement she makes toward me. I widen my legs and rub my hands down my thighs, envisioning what she’d look like on her knees before me. She stops just out of my reach, and a growl rumbles from me. The tip of her tongue comes out just enough to drag her top lip over her teeth. Mattie’s eyes turn hungry, and I track the rise and fall of her breasts.

“Kneel, little bug.” She falls to her knees, never breaking her gaze locked onto mine. Her hands grip my inner thighs, and she digs in with her nails to pull herself closer. Pinpricks of pain radiate across my human skin, and I moan, my head rolling back. I look to her again, and the picture before me should hang in a museum.

Wet, umber hair hangs down over her shoulders. Her emerald doe eyes swirl with need, and she runs her tongue over her soft, pouty lips. She releases her grip on me to pull off any shred of clothing keeping me from her, letting them fall to the ground. My cock springs free, and her hot breath fans across me, sending embers crackling across my skin.

One of her hands clenches around the base of my length and the other claws up my abdomen. She closes her eyes and draws the tip of me into her waiting mouth. My muscles twitch and my hips buck up, forcing my cock to the back of her throat. The way her muscles constrict around me and the sound of her gag almost has me release in her instantaneously. I twist the sheets in my grip and struggle to maintain the thinning hold on my sanity.

She works her hand and mouth in tandem while her tongue swirls around my shaft. Her moans vibrate through me. Pressure builds at the base of my spine as my magic winds its way inside me, searching for its escape. My human body buzzes frantically under her, threatening to change shape.

I flex my back, my shoulder blades drawing together, anticipating my inevitable release. She moves her head up and down madly—a storm of tongue, teeth, and spit. Her pace is unforgiving. I howl with pleasure as she looks up at me, never slowing. My toes curl as she runs her tongue up my shaft, sucking at my tip before swallowing me again.

I’d gladly let this goddess strip me of my immortality just to live this moment all over again. She sucks me down to the hilt again, her tongue sneaking past my base to lick the top of my balls. All restraint leaves me, and I grab the back of her head, tangling my hand in her hair as my cum coats the back of her throat. I shudder under her hold as her mouth milks the last of everything I have to give her. Her moans vibrate around my cock as she finds her own release.

Finally, she leans back onto her heels, and I can’t decide who is worshiping who. A knowing smirk spreads across her face. Drops of pearlescent silver cling to her lips, and I lean down, carefully cleaning each one from her with my tongue. “How does it taste to be mine, Mattie?”