Mated To My Boyfriend's Dad

Chapter 72: _ Shhhhh

He snuck in front of the door and knocked on it. The moment the knock rasped, he ran and hid out of sight.

"Did I just hear a knock?" He could hear Lupe grumbling from inside.

An older voice answered her. "Just ignore it. We can’t open our door so late at night. Not with the occurrences in the pack."

"Maybe it wasn’t from our house."

"I’m going to bed."

"Goodnight, Mum."

"Night, honey. Close the windows and put off the lights."

Footsteps receding and Lupe sighing followed. Fergus returned to the door and knocked on it, louder this time. _{𝓃ℴ𝓋𝓹𝓊𝓫.𝒸𝓸𝓂}

"What the -?" He heard Lupe’s faint exclamation. "Someone is really knocking."

From farther inside the house, "Ignore it, Lupe. Go to bed!"

Fergus shook his head and banged harder and harder on the door until he could feel Lupe’s frustration radiating from the inside.

"That’s it! I’m just going to go take a look."

A smirk broke across Fergus’s face as he hurried back to his hiding spot, feet ready to dive into action the moment the door opened.

However, "Hello?" Lupe called instead without opening the door.

He grimaced, losing his cool. He really wanted to make a swift and noiseless kill. He intended on killing just one of them too. If he killed the daughter and mother, none of them would be around to be miserable and mourn the other’s death.

Yet, on days when he was having a bad day, remembering the pain he had inflicted and people suffering because he had killed their loved ones was one of the things that made him feel better.

He couldn’t lose that with this kill. He always made sure he had all of his wins. So, one of them needed to stay alive.

That, however, depended on Lupe right now. It was either she got the door and saved one of their lives or listened to her mother and they both died.

Fergus was down for any.

Disappointment bit at him as it took longer for Lupe to get to the door. He, however, wouldn’t let it show or get to it. One thing he’d learned from living for centuries was patience.

He needed to play this right.

Lupe hesitated, whispering something muffled before a sliver of light appeared beside the door frame. A chain rattled on the inside, then the door creaked open about a hair’s breadth.

Lupe peeked out, eyes wide and searching.

That was his moment.

He didn’t give her a chance to see him. He channeled his vampire speed and sped like the wind as he surged past her, slipping through the narrow opening like smoke.

He didn’t waste time with Lupe, her fear was- too raw, too fresh. He craved a different kind of terror tonight; a seasoned fear laced with denial.

She needed to be a tough a lesson. She had looked down on Isleen earlier and he’d made a mental note to make her his food. Isleen was his. She needed to respect her or pay with her life.

He darted straight for the stairs, his senses honed to pinpoint the source of the older woman’s scent. He could feel the prickle of uncertainty radiating from her.

One could smell when one’s end was drawing near. She was probably feeling hers. It was a delicious premonition of her coming fear- the uncertainty reeking from her.

The stairs creaked softly under his inhuman weight, but his movements were silent. He found the door that carried her scent the most and snuck into it like a bad breath.

The woman, oblivious to the predator in her midst, sat in bed reading a worn paperback. Her room was spartan, devoid of any personal touches. Fergus found it strangely fitting. She sensed him before she saw him. He saw a sudden tightening in her posture. Almost like a shiver rippled down her spine.

He loved it.

He could laugh out hysterically now. But that would ruin his plans. So, he waited and studied his prey.

"Lupe?" she called out, her voice cracking with unease. "Is that you, honey?"

She just proved herself an adult wolf. She could sense his presence.

Fergus remained hidden like a silent observer in the shadows. He loved the anticipation, the delicious fear blossoming in the room. He enjoyed the game. The dance of predator and prey.

The woman threw off the covers, her bare feet slapping on the cold wood floor. She moved towards the dresser and clutched a lamp tightly in her hand. Fergus watched.

He watched.

She began a cursory search of the room that was fueled by fear rather than logic. He could have attacked her then, savored the scream before the silence.

But no, that was too quick, too easy. He wanted to draw it out, to savor the slow descent of the moment into terror. It was the best feeling. He liked himself a good play.

With a sigh, the woman turned and shuffled back towards the bedroom door. Her unease wouldn’t let her stay be. He let her go, his amusement growing. He wouldn’t let her find peace, not tonight.

She rejoined Lupe downstairs. He could hear her voice strained as she questioned her daughter about the knocking.

He heard the woman’s frantic voice, "Lupe? What are you doing still here? Didn’t I tell you to go to sleep?"

Fergus strained his ears, picking up the sound of Lupe’s hurried reply, "The knocking wouldn’t stop, Mom!"

"Didn’t I tell you not to open the door?" The mother’s voice held a mixture of anger and fear. "Go back to your room, Lupe. Now!"

Lupe grumbled with a voice muffled by the distance. "But Mom..."

"No buts! Go!"

A slam echoed through the house – Lupe’s door being shut with finality. The mother stood there for a moment, her ragged breathing the only sound echoing loudly now. Then, she muttered a curse under her breath and shuffled towards her own door.

Time to play. Fergus licked his lips as a devious smirk settled upon his face.

Finally, she reached the bed and hoisted herself in. The lamp beside her flickered off as she clicked it off, tumbling the room into darkness. Silence descended once more and was only broken by the woman’s gradually deepening breaths.

Fergus felt a surge of impatience. He wouldn’t wait all night. His eyes which were perfectly adapted to the darkness, scanned the room, identifying the perfect spot. He needed the right spot to make his appearance - to make his kill.

With a silent movement, he slithered across the floor, his body brushing against the bedpost. Just when he’d reached right above her head, he paused, his lips curving into a predatory grin.

The woman lay in bed, eyes closed, and seemingly asleep. But Fergus could sense her shallow breaths, the rapid pulse thrumming beneath her skin. She wasn’t asleep, not quite.

A cruel smile played on his lips. Time to play.

He extended a single long and pale finger in the moonlight. With agonizing slowness, he lowered it towards her face, hovering just above her cheekbone. He could see the faint tremor of her eyelids. As if she had been anticipating the touch.

Yet, her eyes remained shut.

He waited and savored her fear all the way until her eyes finally snapped open, meeting his chilling gaze.

"Shhh..." Fergus placed his index finger on his mouth.