by Layla Frost
He was here.
Evil.
Pure and black, I could smell him on her. It flowed through the air, as familiar as the scent of grass or vanilla.
“How are you here?” Denny asked, strangely groping at her chest. Not that I minded, but I was confused.
“You’re supposed to do breast checks during your period while lying down. And you only use two fingers, not the whole hand,” I informed her.
Her brows shot up almost as high as her voice when she shrieked, “What?” She looked down and shook her head. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Reaching into her shirt, she yanked something out.
“What is that?” I asked, feeling a tingle at the back of my throat.
“It’s a hex bag. One that clearly doesn’t work.”
“Did you get conned again? We talked about this. Let me see.”
She hesitated, looking between me and the bag. Giving up, she held it away from her body and muttered, “How the hell am I supposed to give it to you when I can’t even see where you are?” Even with her uncertainty, she inched it closer before lobbing it the rest of the way. That it landed directly in my palm spoke to our connection.
To me, at least.
“That’s weird, it’s just… floating there. Are you tall?”
“I believe so.” I tossed the bag from hand to hand.
“See?” She threw her arms out. “It doesn’t work. It was supposed to keep you away.”
Like a double punch to my chest and my gut, her words fucking crushed me. I’d backed away, trying to give her space and privacy while I worked to find answers. It must not have been enough since she’d gone to another witch.
I heard her soft intake of breath before she softened her voice to whisper, “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want you gone gone. But I can’t live never knowing when and where you’ll show up or if you’re interfering.”
“I rarely interfere in your life.”
Crossing her arms, she arched her brows. “How many of my dates have you ruined?” I opened my mouth but she added, “And don’t lie to me. I hate liars more than anything. Well, not anything, but you know what I mean. I can forgive a lot, but never lies.”
There was so much passion and hurt threaded in her fervent words, I vowed to never lie to her again.
“All of them since you moved in,” I admitted.
“So boring office guy?”
“Still boring if you ask me.”
Denny rolled her eyes. “And the Dunkin’ enthusiast?”
“Rarely been to a Dunkin’, but still an aging man who routinely crashes college parties.”
“And Paul? I told Lula he’s a pretentious douche who lives with his mom. If she tells Chase, it could make work difficult for him!”
“He does enough of that on his own. There’s a sexual harassment suit pending against him. He’ll be served on Monday.”
Her wide eyes relayed her shock, but her lip sneer showed she was pissed as she snarled, “Chase did what?”
“What? No, not Chase. Paul. He’s being served. You were saying his work—”
She waved her hand around. “I don’t care about him. I was talking about Chase. But Paul’s an asshole?”
“Yes. He doesn’t live with his mother, but everything else was him.”
And I’d gladly shock him again for trying to touch her.
“How?” Her tone was filled with curiosity not anger. “How do you do that?”
I was relieved she hadn’t asked about the man with the sex swing since he was neither a dick nor a bore. As far as I could tell, he was a nice enough man.
But he wasn’t me.
Trying to sum up what I’d done when I didn’t understand it took me a moment. “I need time to plan what’s going to happen and focus my energy. And then I just… do. Since I wasn’t there when you made your pasta date, I didn’t have the chance to plan. But I still think honesty was the best policy, and he—”
“So you read his mind? You can do it!” She covered her head, and my guilt increased.
I never wanted her to fear or distrust me.
“When I give them different memories, I can… poke around. But I would never do that to you.”
“Do they see awful things about me?”
“No, never, my little hellion. They think they’ve had a very nice date, and at the end you tell them you had fun but you aren’t interested. It’s very amicable, and no one is hurt or upset.”
“I am.”
The hurt that soaked her words burrowed into the black pit in my chest.
I fucked-up.
Guilt and anger and jealousy and so much damned frustration tore at me. “Even if I hadn’t gotten involved, none of them were right for you.”
“But you did! You got involved and didn’t give me the chance to find out for myself whether they were right or not.”
“My little—”
“No! Stop calling me that. I’m not your anything. For all I know, you’re manipulating me right now. Making me think and feel all this stuff. Making me ache and—” Her words cut off suddenly, her eyes going wide and her lips forming an enticing o.
“And what?” I prompted, my voice low and rough.
A visible shiver ran through her, her body giving a little tremble as her skin flushed.
“Nothing,” she said. “I don’t trust any of this. I don’t trust you.”
Another blow—well-deserved but crushing.
“I’m sorry.” My words were sincere, regret clawing at me. “I’d never manipulate you.”
“But that’s exactly what you did.”
“I stopped you from getting hurt or wasting your time with boring men who don’t deserve to be in the same room with you.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” she snapped. “I’ve had more than my fair share of men trying to manipulate and dictate my life. I don’t need it, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and let it happen from some… whatever you are.” Reaching her limit, her shoulders slumped and the anger that’d tightened her features morphed to exhaustion. “I’m going to take a nap. Please go.”
I didn’t respond as she walked upstairs.
Had I agreed to leave, I’d have lied and broken my vow.
Denny
Wake up.
My eyes shot open as I tried to shake off sleep. Scrunching my face, I slowly opened one bleary eye to check my bedside clock. It wasn’t even four in the morning, and I’d only been asleep for two hours.
I knew napping so late in the day was a bad idea.
With a frustrated huff, I rolled over and began to pull the blanket over my head. My lids were almost closed when I saw it.
Saw him.
I jolted and scurried up the bed, slamming into the headboard. “Hey,” I called, my voice high with panic and rough with sleep, “uh, you. Are you sitting in my chair?”
“Yes. Was it moving?”
Reaching for my lamp, I stopped with my fingers on the knob. I wasn’t sure if turning it on would make him disappear, and I didn’t want to risk it.
“No,” I said, dropping my hand. “I see you. Not really you, but you’re there.” As sleep cleared from me more, the reality of it made my heart pound in my throat. “You’re hazy, like you’re shrouded in smoke. But you’re here. Why?”
“I already told you, I don’t know.”
“In my room,” I clarified, yanking my blanket up to my neck. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”
“Checking on you,” he muttered. “Approximately twenty-two million people in the US have sleep apnea. It’s serious.” His answer wasn’t spoken with the same confidence as everything else he said.
Is he lying?
Before I could push further, he stood. The dark smoke swirled around him, dancing with the street light streaming through my window. It rose from his feet, the black and gray beautifully twirling and drifting up to cover his impressive height.
“Why,” I started, but there was no point in asking. He
wouldn’t know why he was covered in smoke.
My life was nothing but unsolvable mysteries and chaos.
I had con artist psychics, unqualified witches, and stoners playing at being wizards and wiccans.
Then there was the intense but dangerous… Thomas Hale. I didn’t even know what to categorize him as.
Most importantly, I had a voice who liked to ruin my dates and turn my world upside down.
The only person who seemed legit and upfront was Juno, but even she’d hidden how strong she was.
Or maybe I just hadn’t taken her cocky bragging as seriously as I should’ve.
It seemed as though every answer I got only made my life more bizarre. The Voice had been hard enough to wrap my head around. Everything that followed made me revisit the possibility something was amiss with my psyche.
It wasn’t as though I’d never heard of such things before. I’d loved my grandma’s stories of ghosts and spirits, but I’d taken them as fiction and lore. My straight-laced and cold dad had warned of the dangers of demons and witches, but he’d also told me I was born carrying an inherent evil, so I’d just dismissed his claims as the rantings of a damaged and manipulative man.
Science and logic were my friends. Although science was split on the existence of ghosts, aliens, and other creatures in our infinite space, logic was firm…
None of it was real.
But there I sat, literally facing evidence to the contrary. He was there. Not a ghost. Not a voice. Not a spirit guide to Hook Up Town. The logical part of my brain wanted another explanation. Like that old Mr. Johannsen had rigged this setup so I’d sell him my grandma’s home, and all I needed to do was call in Scooby Doo and the gang to help me solve the mystery.
Jinkies and zoinks.
And a big holy fuck.
As stunned and rattled as I was by it all, I couldn’t even begin to imagine how The Voice felt. He’d been around for hundreds of years. He didn’t know who he was, why he was stuck, or how much longer he would have to stay. I couldn’t begin to comprehend how frustrating it must be for him. I’d have likely gone mad.
Uh-oh.
I fiddled with the blanket. “Hey, umm, this is awkward, but you’re not crazy… right?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh.” I leaned against my headboard and thought for a moment. “It would be a waste of my time and ineffective to keep denying you’re actually here. I might not understand it, but it is what it is and you’re not going away, correct?”
The wind whooshed, taking his words with it.
“What?” I asked.
“Yes, correct,” he muttered in an odd tone.
Before I could question it, the smoke shifted and swirled, grabbing my attention. It was eerily mesmerizing, and my eyes began to grow heavy just watching the exquisite patterns.
When my silence stretched, The Voice prompted, “You were saying?”
I shook my head to clear it. “Right. What I’m saying is, I can’t continue to make excuses for the inexcusable. But one last time, are we sure I haven’t just lost my mind? Maybe I’m in a coma somewhere. Or I’m in a psychiatric hospital, and my whole life has been a product of my imagination.”
“If I was part of some dream, there’s nothing I could say to convince you. The only one who knows is you.” The smoke moved faster, spinning and twisting upward. His lowered voice made my toes curl when he asked, “Am I a dream?”
No.
No, you’re a fantasy.
Chapter Ten
Baes on Fleek
The Voice
PLEASURE.
Burning me from the inside out, it tore through me. Though I had no physical body to speak of, whatever it was I had still reacted. Hardened. Lengthened. Every muscle tightened with want.
Desire
Lust.
Need.
Torture.
Her pleasure pulled at me. Had release been possible, I wasn’t sure I was a strong enough man to fight against it. I’d like to think I’d have respected her privacy, but the beast in me knew I’d have gone to watch, taking myself in hand as I did.
Since release wasn’t a possibility, and watching without it would be a torture like no other, I stayed rooted where I was.
A mile from heaven.
A mile from hell.
I’d broken every one of those blasted plastic substitutes that’d lined her bedside drawer. The ache had been too much, jealousy of the inanimate objects driving me mad.
Incorrectly assuming she’d have no interest in purchasing another after the spaghetti incident, I regretted not checking her frequent packages.
Frozen in place, I couldn’t risk shifting an inch because I knew it would turn into the mile I needed to get back to her. My breath was gone, along with every thought in my head—all but the ones of my little hellion.
Except in my fantasies, it was me who filled her.
My name on her lips.
My cock being squeezed by her pussy.
My come shooting into her.
I could feel her orgasm tearing through me, a beautiful torture.
Shuddering, the rest of the world slammed back around me at once. The deep ache of not having her remained, my energy ricocheting around me.
Able to move again, I continued heading away from the house as the resistance that held me in place grew. I pushed against it as much as I could until I hit the invisible wall. Noting my location, I closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, I was in Denny’s living room.
With practice, I’d learned to suppress my presence, so I couldn’t be felt. It wasn’t to spy on Denny, it was to give her peace while still remaining close. My need to protect her was almost as strong as my need to make her mine.
That didn’t mean I didn’t take comfort from her nearness. It was the only thing that brought me peace. Watching her the night before hadn’t been because of sleep apnea concerns. It was my own restlessness that’d selfishly craved her soothing company.
Not wanting her to worry I’d been there for her… activities, I did the opposite of suppression. My presence blasted from me like a neon light in the night’s sky, and there was no way she could miss it.
Sure enough, less than half a minute passed before her feet hit the ground. She hurried down the hallway to the top of the stairs to call, “You’re here.”
“I am.”
“When, uh, did you get here?” She made the quick jog down and turned the corner, coming into view.
Her messy hair picked up the sunlight like a halo. Like always, her eyes seemed to magically find mine. They lowered as a deep blush covered her cheeks and chest.
Fuck, she was stunning.
Looking awkward and nervous, she fidgeted with her hoodie zipper, keeping her eyes averted.
Maybe she thought of me as she pleasured herself.
“Just this moment,” I whispered gruffly, the insatiable ache worsening at the thought.
“I can’t see you today.” There was a thread of disappointment in her tone, but I wasn’t sure how to interpret it.
“I wish I knew how to change that.”
She bit her bottom lip, and her eyes landed on her desk. Tilting her head, she surmised, “I take it that doesn’t work.”
I glanced at the hex bag. “I told you, none of it will.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I really thought Juno was for real.”
Although I wanted to lie, my unspoken vow forced me to speak the truth. “She is. The magicks in that bag are powerful. They’re causing a tickle in my throat.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Wow, big magic, giving you a little cold.”
“You joke, but it means she’s strong. The fact it has any effect on me says something.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t know. I just do.”
The same way I know you’re mine.
Shrugging, Denny flopped onto her office chair, spinning it a few times. “Juno said the same about you. Yo
ur magical aura, or whatever, was on me.”
I grinned at that pleasing thought, though I wisely kept my mouth shut.
“She also mentioned something about a witch in Ireland and a warlock in Poland,” she added. “And they surprisingly don’t walk into a bar with a priest and a rabbi.”
“You’ll never find magicks as strong as hers.”
“I could always try.”
Pain lanced through me. “Do you want me gone so badly?” I whispered hoarsely. “That you’d exhaust yourself and others in this quest to rid yourself of me?”
She stood quickly, her eyes warm and soft but her brows lowered in confusion. “I don’t know. This whole thing… It’s so weird. My brain is having trouble processing any of it, and every day is stranger than the last.”
I gave her what I knew, hoping any of it would help relax the tension that tightened her shoulders and marred her beautiful face. “I can only go a certain distance from the house. I’ve been pushing those limits, but it still isn’t much. Before you came, I was bound here. When you moved in, I was able to go where you went.”
“So you followed me?” I braced for her anger as I prepared to answer her truthfully, but she smiled and rushed on to add, “That came out wrong. I don’t blame you if you followed me, and I’m definitely not mad. Anything longer than a few days cooped up in the house makes me antsy, so I can’t imagine hundreds of years in the same place. I’m sorry most of my adventures have been to Target.”
“I was just grateful for any chance to get out. It was a relief to see people aren’t the same orange color as the beach shore show had led me to believe.”
Denny’s voice went high as she asked, “My grandma watched Jersey Shore?”
“It was one of her favorites.”
She burst out laughing so hard, she had to wipe tears from her eyes. When she moved her hands, I could see the speed of her tears increasing as her sadness surrounded me.
I reached out to touch her but couldn’t. Pushing my fury aside, I lowered my voice and apologized. “I’m sorry, should I not have shared that? The show was canceled, if that helps.”
Her laughter and tears came out together as a choked sob, but she shook her head. “It’s not that. Please, share everything. All of it.”
“With so many years, things blend together and fade from my memory. But anything I remember, I’ll tell you. I promise.”
