Hard.
His hips moved with incredible velocity; a rhythm that made me cry out his name. I took him by the waist as he arched his back, lifting my hips to fuck him deep. Together, our bodies were a powerful machine of pleasure—friction and fire and sexual sounds spilling from our mouths. I worked him with my hand as hard as we fucked, languishing in his exquisite moans of pleasure.
He came all over my chest, some of it hitting me in the face. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh, shit!” He went to wipe it off my cheek but soon forgot all about it as I thrust into him with frantic abandon until I climaxed inside him.
Again, he fell forward, resting his head on top of mine, breathing into my hair.
“That was so good,” he said.
I pushed him up so I could look at him. “It was.” Then we kissed.
“I needed that.”
“Me too.” He reached over for a tissue from the desk, wiping his cum from my face. “Sorry.”
“I’ve heard it’s good for the skin.”
He laughed at that.
Sex was a great way of clearing the cobwebs.
He looked at me with starry eyes, and I almost popped the question. God, I was in love with him. Not just because of this post-coital bliss, but because he was my world.
“Jake …”
He kissed me. “Yeah?”
But I couldn’t do it, the fear was too much. “I love you.”
“I love you too, treacle.”
I fired off an email to Lars, ruling out manticores, and called it a night. My eyes needed the respite, and I needed to be close to Jake.
I checked in on Lou, who was firmly in the land of dreams, and went to my bedroom.
Jake was asleep, back in his snowflake pajamas, the bedside lamp still on. A fantasy paperback novel sat beside him. I put it on his bedside table, kissed his cheek, and clicked off the lamp.
I stripped down to my boxers and got in beside him.
Despite my body being sapped of energy, my eyes gritty from too much screen time, I couldn’t drift off.
My mind was on Mr. Visser, on the horror of what’d happened to his wife. The way she was just a pile of skin. That was it. The end of her, not even looking like how she was supposed to. It was like the victim of an explosion—all that’s left is a mess.
My fingernails dug into my palms as I closed my fists. I battled my mind, staring up into darkness as horrific images began to flash. Jake as that same pile of flesh, him taken from my life and ending up nothing more than—
Shit!
I’d read up on this stuff that went on in my mind and had even seen a doctor to confirm it. Apparently, it was a form of OCD I had. I’d tried behavioral therapy, cognitive therapy. Nothing had worked. In the end, I’d had to go to Mila for help. She’d made me a potion—a blend of lavender, ginger, and lemon she called Calm Elixir—to ease my mind. It helped to reduce the attacks and nullify the images.
I wasn’t free of being triggered, though. There was a scar on my soul that wouldn’t heal, that wouldn’t let me have peace. Maybe it was a life-long punishment for what I’d done, to remind me my soul would never be fully free and clean.
Reaching over, I took a vial of Calm Elixir out of the bedside drawer and swallowed a dose of the liquid. Oddly, despite the mix, it tasted like banana.
Medicated, I rolled over and spooned Jake, needing to feel him close.
He moaned, shuffling closer to me as he slept.
Eventually, the images rolled away, no longer able to rise up and hit me.
Sleep was still miles away as I focused on the creature that could’ve done that to Mrs. Visser. Looking for clues at the Visser home was good a place as any to start. The police investigation hadn’t found anything, so now it was my turn to see if I could find even a tiny shred of a clue.
For the sake of Mr. Visser, I hoped I could.
There had to be an answer somewhere.
Ten
Jake
I air-kissed Mila before she swept into the house, her shimmering gold sari billowing behind her. All she had over it was a silver shawl. She didn’t appear to be bothered by the cold at all.
We exchanged pleasantries in Dutch, then she switched to English. “This will not take long, Jake.”
“That’s fine. Take all the time you need.”
She nodded and went about the house, boosting the wards with her potions and charms.
I scratched at my stubble, still not quite awake from the little bit of sleep I’d had. What I needed was a cuppa and to not think about anything in this quiet moment I had to myself.
Before I had the chance to add a splash of milk to my brew, Mila came striding into the kitchen. “All is done.”
“Wow, that was quick.”
“I did tell Dean it would be quick.” She clasped her hands together. “Your daughter is nothing short of precious, a sleeping beauty.”
“She didn’t stir?”
“No.” She eyed my supply of pepernoten. “They look marvelous.”
“Thank you. Want one?”
“No, thank you. I must be going.”
“Cool. No worries.”
“Have a wonderful day.”
“Same to you. Thanks again.”
Ten minutes after Mila had left, I had a video call.
“Hey, Jakey!” Greg--golem and one of my two besties—was on my laptop screen. “Happy St. Nicholas Eve!”
“Thanks,” I replied, so happy to see his face. “And to you.”
“Did Sinterklaas bring you anything good?”
“Not yet! Dean is making us keep to the tradition of the evening!”
“What? You have to wait?” Sun glistened on his dark skin, a blue sea behind him. He was in Greece. “Dean is such a meanie. Do it anyway.”
“Nah, I promised, and it was me insisting on traditions—shot myself in the foot, really. Tradition is presents in the evening. It’d only confuse Lou to switch it up.”
“You
