The lights overhead flickered, and they both looked up and then at each other. “Something’s building,” she said. “I can feel it under my skin like a thousand ants all over me.”
“Yep, and we need to get out before someone dies.” His worst fear was losing anyone. Saving everyone was crucial, and not becoming mesmerised by how delectable Cyra tasted.
“Okay, I can do a counter-hex.” She chewed on her lower lip, staring at him as if she expected him to hug her, kiss her. Damn, he wanted to, but then what? They’d do the horizontal tango right in front of Henry and Nora? He had to rein his emotions in and resist. If he’d held a thread of control, he would have stopped the goose before it had attacked the old couple. Instead, he’d fallen head over heels for Cyra. That meant he needed to watch for mistletoe to stop his lust from taking over.
Her gaze narrowed, and she spun away, but he couldn’t help himself and he seized her wrist. No denying she’d crawled under his skin, and he wanted nothing more than to promise her the world, make her laugh every second of the day. Kiss her endlessly. But he was kidding himself by even allowing such thoughts to enter his mind.
For a long pause, neither said a word. The creepy song played, growing louder, yet his attention remained on Cyra. “We’ll get out of this,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it. Until then, we can’t let ourselves get carried away again.”
She nodded but wasn’t pulling away, either. “When we were upstairs, I meant every word I said.” With that, she broke away and hurried toward the kitchen.
Alone in the corridor with the chilling horror music as company, all he could think about was how was he going to eliminate a demon if he constantly had a hard-on. How his brain had stopped functioning. How the wrong move could end up in devastation. But, most of all, he wondered which words Cyra had referred to. The ones that kept circling in his skull were: “Be my first. My only.”
Chapter 10
Cyra
Cyra marched into the kitchen, switched on the light, and placed her back against the pantry door. In Gunn’s presence, she lost her mind. He said things that left her gasping and trembling with arousal. Despite being stuck in a house that had her jumping at every sound, all she thought about was Gunn taking her again and again. His tongue on her, inside her. Her reaction might be amplified by the spell, just as the mistletoe brought out her feelings, forcing them to the surface, but those feelings were real.
Her cheeks burned at her brazen words. She ought to concentrate on keeping Henry and Nora safe. Then why couldn’t she think straight? Her attraction toward Gunn had been there from the start. And while she’d never known the real him, the time she’d spent with him had revealed a man who wanted love but held back. While his forcefulness intimidated her, his protectiveness and tenderness touched something inside her.
If they weren’t stuck in this cursed house, would he have ever made a move? Would she have? Probably not, as she’d concluded he wasn’t interested. But sitting around pondering wouldn’t get her anywhere, so she turned her attention to the counter-hex incantation. She searched the drawers and cupboards for enchantment ingredients. After hunting down a glass bowl, salt, and a white candle the length of her index finger, she whispered, “This has to work.”
A jittery sensation slithered up her spine as if someone was watching her. She glanced over her shoulder. Nothing, but that didn’t mean she was alone. No area in this house felt safe.
In a rush, she filled the bowl with tap water and poured a lot of salt into it, while her mind drifted to the demon upstairs. Why hadn’t it made another appearance?
When speck demons attached to inanimate objects, the best way to eradicate them was to burn and bury them. She wasn’t sure Henry or Nora would appreciate seeing their home burned to a crisp, so that meant tracking down the object that held the beast and destroying it.
With the items in hand, she moved into the hallway near the laundry room door for extra space. Time to try out the counter-hex. She prayed it would work. There was the small issue of burying the remnants in the soil to complete the magic, but she would try injecting extra mojo into the incantation and hopefully loosen the mistletoe’s hold on the home. It had to work.
Cyra switched the lights on in the corridor, eliminating the darkness, and set the bowl on the floor. She cast a virtual sphere around herself in her mind’s eye that encompassed the area above her, below, and all around. “Air, guard the east and bring wisdom. Fire, guard the south and send protection. Water, guard the west and cast away all evil. Earth, guard the north and strengthen my magic.” Once complete, she kneeled down, sprinkled more salt into the water and inserted the base of the candle inside, the wick sitting inches above the surface. “This water is made pure. I give it the power to protect and cure.”
Goosebumps coated her arms with an electric charge. In her head, she visualized the contents glowing with a bright light. She lit the candle with the lighter from her back pocket. “I take away the spell placed on this house. I undo what has been done.”
The orange flame lengthened upward as if reaching for the heavens, releasing a wisp of smoke. Instead of a fiery smell, it gave off a stink of electricity. She closed her eyes, picturing the fiery power stretching out to every room and touching the mistletoe outside. In her mind, the vines retracted, withered, and shrunk away from the house. Falling into meditation, she continued her visualization, over and over. But when a low hiss sounded, she flipped open
