Come Alone.

Come alone.

The note had an address listed, one that was in a section of town that had been abandoned long ago.

You've been waiting months for this moment.

It had taken longer still to catch a lead in your friend's case, after she had been found dead in her apartment. Other details had been obscured by the police to the press, not wanting to give rise to who would be known as the Juliet Killer: for the express reason that the killer had killed using a very small dose of Atropa Belladonna to throw his victim into a coma.

But his fingerprints weren't found on the vial; the victim's were.

They didn't tell you what actually killed the victims. But, judging from what you saw when you found Trix...

It was hard not to think the killer knew you.

He left behind hand-written notes with quotes that would tip you off to another place in town. Clues that only you could understand.

You became a consultant on the case these past few weeks, and were shocked that with every new location, the note from the previous scene would match.

It was only a matter of time until the killer finally left a note for you, telling you where to meet them.

You look up at the mansion you were standing in front of, after getting out of the taxi you took to get there. The taxi driver seemed concerned when you opened the door to get out, offering to take you anywhere else for free. You smiled a little at him, thanking him and paying the man before you shut the door.

Your fate was sealed, now, as he drives away from where you stand in the old gravel driveway. You turn to see that a single light—a candle, you think—flickers in the windowsill above you.

It is then that you see him; everything but his wide and twisted smile obscured by a hood they wore.

Something was familiar about him.

He watches you walk towards the front door, your footsteps crunching in the gravel below your feet.

It was time to face the ghost that had been following you far longer than you realize.

The door creaks loudly open, admitting one and none other.

You don't call out. You know full well you aren't alone, and you could feel their eyes on the back of your neck as the door closes slowly behind you, as if of its own will.

You ignore the chills that seize your spine, breaking the spell fear itself had on your feet, mounting you to the old, tiled flooring on which you stood.

Now was not the time for fear...but you could feel it anyway: writhing in the pit of your stomach, sending the aftertaste of bile up your throat. Your hand clenches, moving past every emotion or sixth sense telling you to run, to never come back.

But he would follow you. He would follow you until the ends of the earth.

This stopped now.

"Show yourself." You say, facing the grand staircase. You manage to keep the trembling from your voice, this time. The chandelier flickers on at that moment, illuminating the room in a warm, yellow light.

He descends the staircase with a grace you've never seen, his posture mirroring that of a great leader, or a conqueror. He wore a pair of coattails, with a plague doctor's mask.

"Welcome..." His voice was deep, distorted by the mask he wore. You could have sworn you could smell rosemary and other herbs in his mask.

You're silent, waiting for him to reach the bottom of the staircase.

"My, how you've grown." He said. Was he smiling? He began to walk around you, examining you closely as he sighed. "You look just..." He taps your ass with a cane, making your fists curl. "...like..." He taps your hip. "...your mother." He steps forward, face-to-face, inhaling suddenly.

"Doubt you can smell me with that mask on." You say. If he was going to play games, you could too. Honestly, the suspense was killing you.

No pun intended.

The man chuckles. "Nice try." He says, then sighs. "I'm sure you've figured it all out by now." You're silent as he moves in a circle around you again, his heels clicking against the tile you both stand on.

"I..." You say, brows creasing as you try to remember.

"Tsk tsk." He says, a smile in his voice. "And to think, you've been working with a detective and have learned nothing."

"Oh, I've learned plenty." You say, marking where he is in his orbit around you. Three...two...one...

You grab his arm, swinging him into the bannister before ripping his mask off.

The mask drops from your hands to the floor, dried herbs scattering as it lands with a final thud.

Your jaw drops as you struggle for breath, finally seeing the entire picture for what it was.

"No." You say, emotion swelling in your chest, distorting your voice as you stare at him.

That same smile that you had thought so beautiful and true and honest on your first hangout together in high school was on his face, but distorted just so only you could pick up the difference.

"You killed Trix." You say, unable to keep the shaking emotion from your voice any longer.

There in front of you, stood your best friend that you had turned down in High School. He had moved away shortly after, breaking your heart further than you thought was possible.

Maybe you did feel something for him.

He was taller now, having filled out thanks to his muscles. What had happened to the sweet guy that brought you flowers from his mom's garden when you had a really bad day?

Flowers. You gasp, making the connection.

There were always pink roses at every crime scene, usually received a full week before the victims were killed.

Always exactly one week before they were discovered.

"You moved a week later." You say. He smiles again, pulling something from the inside of his cape, before handing it to you.

A single white rose.

"A prize for the princess." He said, his voice low. You look into his sparkling eyes, before you look away. His smile fades, his eyes boring into yours when you look back over at him.

His frown shows you a whole other side to the man you thought you knew. The look sends shivers down your spine, but to your surprise...

You can't help but take the rose. His other hand catches yours, squeezing your fingers around the thorny stem as he leans close enough for you to smell mint on his breath. Your heart is hammering in your chest as he looks into your eyes, and for once...

You can't see him as a friend. Not anymore. Not after the people he killed in a show of passion and strength and who knew what else.

"Come away with me." He whispered into the scant space between you. You look back into his eyes, speechless.

He had murdered women that you had been close to, with no sign of stopping. What did this say about who he really was?

How deluded he had become?

Yet, seeing him with such confidence as he reached out and touched your cheek was...

It was...

He pressed his lips to yours, and it felt as if you were melting under his touch.

Intoxicating.

"I-I shouldn't!" You say, pulling away. "You...you've been killing all my friends! How can this be OK?" His gaze flicks to your hand still holding the rose, his hand squeezing around it. You look down to see him pry the rose from your hand, turning your palm over to see that the thorns had pricked you.

Your eyes met his and you know it is already over.

You are his.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, burning as you tried to not let them drop in front of him.

"You won't stop, will you?" You ask, your heart in your throat. The corners of his mouth turned up, a smirk both chilling and somehow arousing to look at on his lips.

"Come with me...and I will never hurt anyone again." He said, sensually. There was a growl in the undertone of his words, sending shivers back up your spine.

"You promise...to leave the rest of my friends alone?" You ask. He bows his head in a nod, and you can't help realize just how much your friend has changed.

Then again, you have, too.

"Do we have a deal?" He asked, holding out his hand for you to shake. Your gaze flicks from his outstretched, gloved hand back up to meet his eyes.

You slip your hand into his.

"Deal." You hear yourself say. He clasps your hand, squeezing it so your fresh cuts from the thorns throb with pain.

"Deal." He pulls you to him, his lips sealing the deal with a kiss.

You both pull away from the kiss. Something has changed in his face, in the way he was standing. He was still clenching your bleeding hand around the rose, before he lifted it to his lips and inhaled.

"It begins." He whispered. Were his eyes...glowing?

You freeze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. He looks at you like a starving man would a steak.

He was ravenous.

"Run, little one." He whispered. He was beginning to tower over you, even more than he did a second ago.

Before you could make sense of it, he began to transform into something you'd only seen in movies. His shoulders broadened, the fabric of his shirt ripping open around his chest, the fabric reduced to tatters hanging from his chiseled form. His pants hung in tatters from his belt, and you looked down to see that he had a throbbing, giant erection.

A werewolf.

He growled.

You ran out the front doors, trying not to admit to yourself that you were so wet.

No matter how scared you were, you couldn't stop thinking about how big your friend's cock was.

You ran into the forest, your flats already off your feet because of how fast you were running. The dress you wore earlier at the party you'd been at when you got his note flitted around you as you moved quickly through the forest, trying your best not to look behind you.

You didn't want to end up like those pretty girls in the movies.

But you couldn't help but admit that you liked this. Running from a monster that should have been fictional should have scared you, but...

He didn't want to kill you. Oh, no. He wanted to hunt you down...and fuck you. Judging by the size of his cock, you wondered if you'd survive if he ever caught you.

There was no one in sight for miles. The forests stretched for at least ten miles in either direction, before there was a small town or a gas station on the outskirts of a larger city.

No one would hear you scream.

Your heart thudded hard against your chest as you realized he was easily catching up to you. He had at least four feet over you, making his stride far faster than yours.

You stopped, wiping blood on trees going in another direction. Then, you took cover behind the trunk of a large tree, ripping a piece of fabric from your dress to wrap quickly around your wounded hand. You try to control your breathing, trying to breathe quieter as he came into the clearing.

His nose flared as he sniffed the air, walking toward the trees you have marked.

Then, in one movement that made your heart stop, he turned his head and looked right at you.

You couldn't move. His distorted chuckle echoed in your ears, your mind refusing delivery of even the most basic of commands.

You couldn't move, as he took a large step toward you. His feet were huge, just like the rest of him; his hands now had hairy claws and his face was completely morphed to look like a wolf's.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but only a gasp came out. He moved closer, a smile stretching his mouth wide enough that you could see his sharp teeth.

His cock was visibly throbbing in the light of the full, blue moon that illuminated the forest around them. His tip was gushing pre-cum as he stood before you, allowing you a moment to admire him.

Or a moment to make peace with your god.

Without warning, he pounced on you, pinning you to the ground. You cry out, writhing beneath him out of fear and excitement. With one large claw, he ripped your clothes away from your body, the breeze blowing your ruined, tattered clothing away. He looked down at you, the hunger in his eyes only more vivid after finally seeing you naked, squirming beneath him.

He leans down, growling into your ear. You shiver visibly, your bouncing breasts attracting the werewolf's attention.

He grabs your legs, yanking your legs apart. He aligns himself with your opening, pressing into you.

You cry out as his oozing tip penetrates you. Hot pain makes you scream, your hands gripping at the tree roots around you for anything, anything that you could hold onto.

"Please!" You scream up at him. "Just do it!" He didn't wait after that.

He pushed further in, inch by inch, until you are crying out from him trying to push past your cervix. You look down and realize he's about halfway in, with no more room to move within you.

He leaned down, licking your cheeks as he stilled within you, giving you time to adjust.

How on earth were you still so turned on? Even as his girth was equivalent to a bottle of lotion you had on your bedside table?

You can feel yourself getting wetter as he slowly runs his claws across your back, marking you just enough to not harm you.

No, his cock was marking you more than his claws.

You moan loudly as he begins to move within you, going deeper with every thrust. You could feel your insides making more and more room for him, each thrust digging deeper into you.

"You're mine!" He growls into your ear with every thrust. You arch your back off the autumn floor, the leaves cushioning you against the brutal thrusts of the wolf.

Your legs wrap around his waist before long, and you move with every thrust, grinding his massive cock. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding on tight when he picks you up and pushes you up against a tree.

He takes your legs in his claws, pulling you down until you are sheathing his entire cock.

How? You wonder as he picks up his pace. Your mouth was hanging open, your moans and screams echoing through the forest.

Screaming for more. You don't hold back with your screams, your nails digging into his back and making him howl. He slams you against the tree with every thrust, your legs shaking as you try to keep your thighs around his middle.

You scream as you cum hard around his thrusting cock, tears rolling down your cheeks. Why you are crying, you don't know until much later, when you find yourself fucking this werewolf for the rest of your time on this earth.

You loved this.

You loved the way his cock slammed you past all coherent thought. You loved the way that, even as a human, he would crawl toward you with a hunger in his eyes that surpassed everything you had ever known.

You loved the way he would knot within you, trapping you together for hours as his seed overflowed within you, making you question if werewolf babies were a thing.

Maybe you loved the way he would take you relentlessly, as if it were the last day on earth. Not holding back, never thinking twice about how he would fuck you so hard that all animal instincts took over.

Maybe you could get used to this.

Maybe.

Happy Halloween.