The otherworld. The one place I wasn’t supposed to be because of how delicious I was and how every spirit wanted to use me for one reason or another.
The air around me was hazy, which meant I couldn’t see far. The sky was a milky white, no sun overhead. The otherworld was a strange place, a sort of in-between world where things were kind of like earth, but not quite. I had no idea how big it was, if it was the size of the earth itself or if the otherworld only popped up around places on earth where the veil was thin. So many things I didn’t know, because I didn’t grow up believing this stuff. Two months ago I would’ve laughed if someone came up to me and said I was in danger from spirits.
My eyes fell, and even though it was only for a split-second, I was able to see my dad’s grave. Freshly dug, even in the otherworld. The grass around the mound of dirt was a few shades too saturated, a few shades off. My eyebrows came together when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
I wasn’t alone. A spirit hovered over my dad’s grave, nothing but wispy, tentacle-like things whipping the air to keep it hovering. I was about to meet the spirit’s face—if it even had a face, because sometimes they were nothing but Lovecraftian monsters that no eyes should ever see—but a pair of strong arms grabbed me from behind, pulling me out of the otherworld and back onto earth.
Wash had saved me, yet again.
I stumbled back into his arms, and he was slow to lower us to the ground. It wasn’t a long trip to the otherworld, but I was still blinded for a few seconds. I had no idea whether blinking furiously helped the situation or not, but I did it anyway. I probably looked like an idiot, but I doubted Wash cared much, as it sounded like he was reaching for the charm on the grass.
I reached for my eyes as my vision came back to me, wiping away the tears that had formed. Bloody ones, of course, but not many of them. It seemed the longer I was in the otherworld, the harder it was for me to come back into my own body.
Determination set in his jaw, Wash said nothing as he placed the charm on my neck and refastened it. Once it was safely on, I was about to get to my feet, but my legs shook a bit, which he must’ve noticed…because the next thing I knew, he swept me up in his arms and cradled me like a baby.
“You don’t have to…” I trailed off when I looked up at him. It was clear, both with the expression he gave me and with how his arms were locked under me that he was not going to put me down. He was literally going to carry me all the way from the old cemetery to Crane’s house, on the opposite side of Sleepy Hollow.
A bit much, but I liked to think it just meant he cared.
I let out a groan that was more like a sigh, relenting as I muttered, “Fine, you can carry me. Just…make sure you stay away from the busy roads, okay?” Having the entire town see me being carried by Wash was not something on my bucket list, believe it or not. I could only imagine their faces if Wash marched us through the square, where everyone was setting up for the festival. Bones would probably laugh, while being jealous, the boob.
Yeah, it was probably best for Wash to take the long way around town.
It was ridiculously difficult to not focus on the muscled arms holding onto me as we made our way to Crane’s house. It was even harder to keep my eyes averted, because staring up at him from this angle made my mind go to places it shouldn’t. Like, was this the angle I’d see him if we had sex missionary-style? And how the hell could a man be attractive from an angle like this? I mean, there was not a single thing wrong with his jaw, or even his nose. If he was a soldier, shouldn’t he have some scars or even a slightly off-center nose because it’d been broken in the past?
Unless he was never a man. Unless he was just a spirit who’d taken the form of a man who’d died so horrifically and decided against keeping the body’s deformities.
Stop thinking like that, Kat, I told myself.
Wash brought us up the long driveway to Crane’s house, and he didn’t even set me down once we were before the great front door. The giant of a man was able to cradle me with one arm while using the other to open the door, as if it was easy. As if carrying me was nothing to him, like I was as light as a feather. I knew I had the stature of a sixteen-year-old, but come on. This was a wee bit much, wasn’t it?
He brought me into the living room, setting me down on a couch. Wash said nothing as he went to go into the kitchen. I wiped at my eyes some more, hoping that all the bloodied tears were gone. A minute passed.
Crane came down the grand staircase, holding a book to his chest. He nearly leaped out of his skin when he saw me on the couch. He adjusted his glasses, about to say something, but it was at that moment when Wash returned, a cup of…coffee in his hands.
Yes, because every situation needed more coffee.
“What happened?” Crane asked.
Since Wash stared intently at me, obviously waiting for me to drink some of the coffee, I took a small sip. Peering into the cup, I saw that he hadn’t put any creamer in it, again. It was something we would always have to remind him of, I guess.
“Mmm,” I said, giving Wash the type of smile I imagined mothers gave to their children when they gave them something totally inedible, like a mud pie. “Very good. Thank you, Wash.” I set the mug on the coffee table. To Crane, I said, “I think we all know that the spirits are still after me.”
Crane was slow to sit beside me, setting his book on his lap. “Did something happen while you were out? Did the ward fail?” Behind his glasses, his emerald eyes fell to the pendant on my neck.
“It didn’t so much fail as it was torn off by the wind,” I said slowly. “And then I was kind of forced into the otherworld, where a spirit was waiting.” I shivered, even though it wasn’t cold in Crane’s house. Goosebumps rose on my flesh, the telltale sign that I was freaked out. “If Wash hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”
If Wash wasn’t there, the spirit might’ve got me. I didn’t know if that meant it could’ve possessed me or not, but I was glad I didn’t have to find out. Possession? No thanks.
Crane nodded, looking grim. He glanced to Wash, who stood with his arms folded over his chest, his usual stance. “Let us be grateful then for his presence.” To me, he asked, “What did the spirit look like?”
I shook my head, replying, “I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look. I was literally there for a few seconds. Enough to see my dad’s grave in the otherworld, to realize that’s where I was, but that’s it.” I shrugged.
He ran a hand through his brown hair. “I think it might be best if you go anywhere outside of this house, you’re always accompanied by Wash, in case something like that ever happens again.”
Being babysat by Wash was nothing new, so I said, “I agree.” Deep down, though, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was all another setup. If this festival, me playing Katrina’s part, was all some part of another big show.
That night in the mausoleum? It wasn’t the finale.
It was only the intro.
Chapter Five
Sweat coated my body. My clothes lay somewhere on the floor, tossed aside in a hurry as Crane and I worked to undress each other. I’d be spending the night in his room tonight, which I did often enough. Bones had swung by after his shift was over, and as we ate dinner together, we told him what happened to me in that cemetery. He’s in the know now, and he agreed with us: I was to never leave Crane’s house without Wash by my side.
Which, okay, I knew made total sense, but still. The fact that I was basically tied to the large, magical man, that he was my ball and chain, so to speak, made me itch a bit. It made me itch because of the strange, undeniable feelings growing inside of me.
I wasn’t a woman caught in a love triangle between two men who only tolerated each other because they each wanted me and refused to give me up; I was a woman stuck in the middle of a freaking love pyramid, with each of us at one of its points.
And of course it only made me wonder if the original Katrina felt pulled toward each of the three,
or if, in the end, she only had her eyes on the Horseman. If she couldn’t figure out how to make him real, how to help him cross over, so she simply settled for whichever man won. I’d never get the answers to those questions, which was fine. Besides the whole spirit at the cemetery thing, it’d been quiet around here—something I could appreciate.
Crane’s glasses sat on the nightstand, reflecting the small bit of light from the moon streaming in through the window on the far side of the room. Wash was in his own room across the hall, giving us some privacy. I felt worlds better than I did earlier, and a fast shower after Bones had left had washed away the remaining bits of spookiness that had stuck with me.
Crane himself was beneath me, his slender fingers digging into my upper thighs as I rocked back and forth against him, dragging his length in and out of me. His eyes were open in the darkness, but I knew he probably could only see a hazy me. In the end, it didn’t matter if he could see me or not; he could feel me, touch me, fuck me, and right now that was all that mattered.
Now’s the time when I would’ve made a joke about being blind, because all my life I’d grown up with the best vision around—no contacts or glasses needed—but after my time in Sleepy Hollow, I knew exactly what being blind felt like, more so than Crane. At least he saw a fuzzy, non-sharpened world around him when he took off his glasses. When I spent a long time in the otherworld, I was completely blind for minutes at a time.
My hands were flat on Crane’s chest, which was surprisingly well-defined under his freshly-pressed clothes. Looking at him while clothed, you’d never suspect what he had packing underneath. You’d take one look at him and think: nerd, all grown up. A skinny guy who liked to drink too much tea.
He might’ve been a nerd when it came to things dealing with Sleepy Hollow—and I suppose I couldn’t blame him, since he was a descendant of Ichabod Crane himself—but he was sexy all the same. A different kind of handsomeness than the type Bones commanded.
I was truly torn between them. I cared for them both deeply…and I wished that was all there was to it, but it wasn’t. Wash factored into the picture too, which I had to talk to Crane and Bones about. Eventually.
My hips moved, grinding myself against him. I lost myself in the carnal pleasure of our bodies, in the smell of sweat and sex, in the feeling of his fingertips tightening on me as he fought to hold back his orgasm. He always tried to last as long as he possibly could. With me, he’d told me once, the pleasure came to him all too easily. I made him cum with a snap of my fingers, in other words. I was just too sexy to deny.
That, or the world really wanted us together. Almost like we were made for each other, which was just dumb. I didn’t believe in star-crossed lovers or fated partners or anything like that. I was a sensible woman…or at least I was, once.
Now? I might’ve fallen down the rabbit hole.
Crane let out a deep-throated moan, the low sound sending a chill down my spine. He sounded so different in the heat of the moment, not at all like his usual refined demeanor. He liked it rougher than I would’ve guessed too, so go figure.
As his hold on my upper thighs moved to my waist, his hips began to buck beneath me. I kept my steady pace, refusing to give him control. I was the one on top, so I would say when this was over.
Or at least, that’s what I planned on doing, but Crane had other ideas. Within a moment he had his arms around my back as he sat up, grabbed me, and flipped me so that I was now underneath him and he was the one on top.
No fair. He cheated.
Of course it was difficult to think such thoughts when he started thrusting into me with an urgency I could only label as frantic and desperate. With how he pumped his cock in me, it was more than obvious he was no longer seeking to hold his orgasm back. He wanted to cum, and he would very soon, judging from the speed of his thrusts and the way his eyes took on a half-lidded, eager look.
I brought my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me, pressing my lips on his throat, sucking and nipping, generally making him buck even more. I pulled his hair a bit, probably a tad harder than was polite, but he didn’t seem to mind, for in the next moment he let out a telltale groan—the same groan he always let out when he was about to have his release.
Crane’s eyes squeezed shut as his breathing turned into panting, his thrusts becoming quick, rapid pumps into my slick sex. He filled me up with everything he had, and then some. When he was finished coming, when his orgasm subsided and he was able to pull out of me, I could feel his juices seep out of me and onto the bed. He’d be washing the sheets in the morning—he was a bit anal about it, go figure.
He rolled beside me, pressing his hot lips against my cheek, and I turned my head to meet his mouth with my own. Our tongues met, and for the longest while, we were lost in each other again, our hands greedy bastards in their own right.
Once I lay on my side, with my back against his front and his arm wrapped protectively around me beneath the sheets, I let my mind wander. I wasn’t tired per se, mostly because there was so much I was thinking about.
Okay, mostly Wash and the feelings I had for him.
What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t just outright tell Crane and Bones about it, could I? Wouldn’t that make them feel…I don’t know, inadequate? Like they weren’t enough? They were, they’d be more than enough for any woman, and they each deserved the world, but I couldn’t help what I felt for Wash. It was like those particular feelings were not of my own design. Trust me, if I could shut off my feelings for Wash, I would.
I would shut them off without hesitation, pretend Wash didn’t exist. I would close my eyes to his attractive, immensely tall frame and…and what? Even I couldn’t finish that thought, because I knew there was no fucking way I could act like he wasn’t the handsomest man I’d ever seen.
Ugh. I was terrible, thinking of Wash while in Crane’s arms and in his bed, with his cum still sticky on my legs.
Crane’s arm tightened around me, and he murmured, “What are you thinking about?” As if he could tell my mind was elsewhere, a mind-reader of epic proportions.
I ran my fingertips across his knuckles, pulling his arm tighter around me. “Nothing.” Boy, oh boy. I should get the liar of the year award. And by that, I meant I was completely obvious about it. There was no hiding the fact that I was thinking about something. “It’s stupid,” I added, as if that would make it better, make me feel like less of a traitor.
Because that’s what I was—a traitor who thought of another guy while in someone else’s bed. Who the hell did that? Certainly not me. I would never picture being with another man while in the arms of another…at least, I never would have before coming here and developing such strong feelings towards multiple different guys, one who wasn’t even human, for goodness sakes.
“If it’s on your mind, I’m certain it’s not stupid,” Crane said. The word stupid sounded odd coming from him, and it made me smile in the darkness of the bedroom. The sheets were pulled up over us, and I felt protected from the outside world, like this blanket, the man holding me, was all I needed to feel safe and secure.
I bit my bottom lip, muttering, “You might get mad at me.” A warning, because I knew it was true. I mean, I’d definitely get upset if I was in his shoes and listened to the woman I liked go on about her feelings for another guy. Just because he was relatively okay with me seeing Bones did not mean he would be okay with knowing I’d somehow fallen for the Horseman, too.
Crane did not hesitate to say, “I will not. Unless it’s something asinine like you want to leave me for Brom—then I might grow angry. Anything other than that, though, I’m fairly sure I can handle.”
Leaving him for Bones was his worst nightmare, I knew. A repeat of the past, although to be fair, the past involved Abraham using the local legend of the Headless Horseman to scare Ichabod out of town. Deep down, I was certain Crane thought I’d leave him eventually, that this was just a temporary arrangement until I left him for Bones…which just made me sad.
I could never leave him. I could never leave Bones. Hence the whole conundrum when it came to Wash.
“It’s not about Bones,” I whispered, moving to face him, flopping on my other side. Our heads rested on the same pillow, inches apart. He still had his glasses off, so I knew he couldn’t see me well. My face was probably just one big blob to him. I doubted he could see the worry in my eyes.
“Oh,” he sounded relieved. “Then what is it? I promise I can handle it. I’m a big boy, you know.” We both chuckled at that, because he was the last thing from a boy. The absolute last thing.
Well, here goes nothing.
“It’s about Wash,” I spoke slowly, cautiously, hating myself for bringing this up right now. Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? Or at least until we weren’t naked and holding each other while in bed? Boundaries were a thing for a reason.
It was a long moment before Crane asked, “What about him?” Hesitance laced with his words, and I instantly felt guilty.
I was officially the worst girlfriend ever.
“Remember when I said I think the original Katrina had a thing for him?” I waited until he mumbled an affirmative before continuing, “Well, I don’t think it’s just the original Katrina anymore.” Oh, yeah. That was a roundabout way of admitting it out loud, wasn’t it? I wanted to smack myself.
One of Crane’s hands fell to my hip, gingerly touching me with an uncertain caress. “What do you mean, exactly?” Crane’s gaze was open, and I was glad for the darkness, especially glad he couldn’t see clearly. Selfish, really.
“I think I…” I trailed off, hating how awkward this was. How cringe-worthy this whole thing was. Why, God, couldn’t my life be easy? Why couldn’t I have been named after some Star Trek captain instead of a woman caught in the middle of two men trying to prove their manliness? If I was destined to follow in their footsteps, I’d much rather travel to space than deal with spirits and magic and all that.
The Blessed Undead (Return to Sleepy Hollow Book 2) Page 5
