I hurried out the door into the backyard. I turned and came face to face with a ghost I did not like one bit. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
Matilda, the ghost from next door, had returned. She crept onto our property slowly as though it pained her, and kept pointing to her neck as her head flopped off to the side. “Gah, get out of here,” I whispered and made a shooing motion with my hands.
A dark chuckle rolled out of the Sorrel-Weed house.
Yes, send her back to me. Send me the old woman too. I would like them both to serve me.
Chills rippled over and through me, and I grabbed Matilda and yanked her behind me. Don’t ask me how, because I couldn’t understand it in that moment. “He’s hurting you, Matilda?”
I own her. You can’t have her, dark one.
Smoky black tendrils shot out of the house next door, wrapped around Matilda as if they were ropes, and just like that she was sucked away with a violent jerk, a silent scream on her lips as she was drawn into the house.
The breath in my chest froze, and my limbs shook like leaves in a windstorm. I stepped backward, keeping my eyes locked on the house across from me—back and back, I went until I was going down the steps that led into the basement below the house. I fumbled with the doorknob behind me, swung the door open, and shut it, finally blocking the sight of the house and the darkness within.
How the hell was I going to deal with that place being right next door? Since my nearly-all-the-way-dead experience the week before, the Sorrel-Weed house’s darkness seemed to get worse every day.
I leaned my head against the door, the knowledge that I would have to go back out, that I would have to cross the lawn and pass by the stupid house freaking me out. How was no one else feeling the monstrosity lurking in there? I’d been looking through Gran’s book of spells, but there was nothing in there about banishing a house spirit. Maybe that Black Spells of Savannah and the Undead book had something. I shuddered at the thought of using that book. Not that I had any gift for spells, anyway.
“Crash, you in here?” I called out, the heat of the day not fully permeating the basement. But the forge was going, and the sound of the flames was weirdly soothing, as if they would burn out the voices of the ghosts next door.
“Yes.” His voice was rough and solid, and it provided me with the steadiness I needed in that moment. I smoothed my hands over my face, unable to turn to look at him. He’d rejected me, and I him, only hours before, and we’d both agreed it was for the best.
I couldn’t stop the shaking in my legs though, couldn’t ignore the need to let the fire between us drive out the darkness that was trying to lay claim to me by digging into my soul. Because whatever was in the Sorrel-Weed house was darker than anything else I’d run into in the shadow world, and that was saying a lot.
“Breena, are you okay?” The concern in his voice undid me.
“Nope. That’s a nope,” I whispered.
Then his hands were on my shoulders, turning me, and I buried my face against his chest.
“You’re freezing.” He swept me up into his arms and carried me closer to his forge. He sat on a chair, pulling me down with him. “How is that possible in this heat? What happened?”
My eyes remained wide open, because I was suddenly afraid of closing them. “Just give me a minute.”
He didn’t push, and he didn’t let me go either. The minutes ticked by, and the pounding of my heart finally slowed, though the fear was still at the edge of my mind. Like if I let it, it would crawl over me again, freezing me in place and stealing the new life I’d made for myself. “That house next door. It’s harboring something darker than just a nasty ghost.” I shuddered. Even saying it out loud felt like a risk—as though I was calling it to attention.
“It’s always been dark,” Crash said softly. “The history there is ugly.”
“It’s worse now. Something has changed. There’s an . . . entity in there that’s hurting Matilda. Before, she was in there alone,” I said with absolute certainty. I rubbed my face.
His arms cinched tighter around me. “I believe you, but I can’t see it. You seem to have an easier time picking up on the dead.”
I looked up at him, changing directions because I did not want to think about the critter haunting the Sorrel-Weed house. “Crash, what the hell were you doing with those two girls young enough to be your daughters?”
He stared down at me. “I thought this was a terrible idea. All of it.”
“Oh, it is, that hasn’t changed.” I shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know—”
“That we don’t feel something when we are in contact with each other?” He arched a brow. “Is this helping you push back the fear?”
“Distractions are a beautiful thing,” I said, knowing that I needed to go. Feish was waiting for me, and whatever was in the Sorrel-Weed house would still be there when I came out, no matter how long I waited in the basement with Crash. He couldn’t really protect me, but when I was with him, I felt safe—even though it was probably an illusion. It was why I’d sought him out just now if I was being honest with myself.
He bent his head, hair falling over his forehead, and his eyes locked on mine then slid down to my lips. “It would be a beautiful thing even if it’s a bad idea.”
Oh dear. I clung to my one touchstone in the raging sea of hormones and desire. The thing I used to remind myself that he didn’t really want me. “The girls? You just like them young?”
His jaw ticked and he pulled back, a flash of irritation on his handsome face. “You are not the only one with a job to do. One of mine is protecting the younger fae, and in a place like that, what you saw needed to look the way it looked.”
I couldn’t help the dry sarcasm. “Right, it needed to look like the three of you . . .” I left it open for him to finish the sentence, thinking I’d push him into the depths of anger. That’s the way Himself would have responded, defensive and childish. Mostly because he was usually guilty as could be when I finally confronted him about something that had to do with other women. He’d told me more than once his relationships with others were none of my business.
I wasn’t falling for that stupidity again.
But not Crash, there was no defensiveness. Nope, Crash chuckled at me. “There are fae men who would hurt the younger women badly if they didn’t think there would be repercussions. I have a fairly good reputation for handing out repercussions to those who cross me or hurt those who are under my protection. It is my job as an elder fae.”
Well, damn it. That was some serious white knight business that was all kinds of sweet and chivalrous. “Damn it, I didn’t want to like you more,” I muttered.
I waved a hand between us as if that would cut the sexual tension. Only it didn’t work. He caught my one hand and raised it to his mouth where he pressed a kiss to my wrist that involved lips, tongue, and a nip of teeth.
Fire, electricity, and a steady thrumming low in my body sprung to life, awakened by that simple touch, by the kiss that hadn’t even landed on my lips. Far too easy to imagine his mouth other places.
All the places.
I swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t do that.”