Page 9 of His Sinner

We search for our voyeur, but it quickly becomes clear that no one else is out here. The only movement comes from the falling white flakes. We’re surrounded by nothing but forest and the hidden wildlife hunkered down for the night. Even the stars and moonlight are concealed by clouds. A world all to ourselves.

“Why are there only seven headstones?” Briar asks.

“It’s a private cemetery owned by the family who once owned the manor. The grandson didn’t have any children. That was the end of the bloodline.”

“You don’t worry about mourners showing up?”

I shake my head. “Everyone they knew is dead.”

She hugs her arms to her chest, and the creative wheels turn in her head as she contemplates how she can write a story about the departed, wealthy family who once owned the private cemetery on the mountain. “It’s so peaceful here.”

Snowflakes falling from the sky, far from the disturbance of civilization, offer a unique tranquility. “That’s why I chose this mountain for my residence. A writer’s mind craves peace, lest he not hear the whisper of words in his head.”

“The perfect place for a writing retreat.”

“The perfect place for us.”

She swallows at my words before rubbing her arms. Not yet convinced I can turn her fantasy—this serene life of seclusion she longs for—into reality. “I think we’ve established that we’re alone up here. Let’s head back.”

I lead the way to Nicholson Manor, allowing Briar to enter first before I cast one final sweep over the front yard, illuminated by my flashlight and the light pouring from the windows. Nothing.

Inside, I drop the magazine from the pistol and remove the loaded round from the chamber before returning the pistol to its secret compartment.

“Do you think whoever was out there could be a private investigator?” Briar chews her lip.

I quirk a brow. “Why would a PI be up here?”

“I’m pretty sure some blonde woman in a black BMW has been tailing me. She followed me to work one morning, and then I saw her again on campus.”

My fists clench. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

“Because I haven’t seen her in a while.” My muse shrugs. “I thought the police were just keeping an eye on me.”

I close the distance between us, towering over her as I jerk her chin up. “From now on, you don’t keep secrets from me.”

She rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t a secret—I just didn’t think to tell you.”

“No more secrets.”

Briar jerks out of my grasp. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

In the bedroom, she strips down, her perfect breasts bouncing when she pulls the shirt over her head. I’ll never again know a day when I can keep my hands off her.

“I’m exhausted.” Her eyes narrow as she slips under the duvet. “And sore. So we’re just sleeping.”

I slide in behind her, wrapping an arm around her to fondle one of those perfect tits. She groans softly. Her half-naked body molds perfectly against mine.

I disappear under the blanket. “My tongue won’t make you sore.”

CHAPTER FIVE

BRIAR

Saint insists I stay behind to get some writing done while he runs into town to grab food. The gesture is thoughtful, but I can’t shake off the image of someone watching us fuck through his window. I’ve been paranoid for days. Nothing more than a fear response after years of conditioning from watching entirely too many true crime documentaries and horror movies, but now that I’m alone in Saint’s giant—admittedly spooky—manor, I can’t concentrate on writing.

I reach for my phone. Only ten percent battery remaining, but I call Mom anyway.

“Briar! How are you, sweetheart?” Her voice instantly soothes me, like I’m at home and not completely and utterly alone in a manor pulled straight from an S.T. Nicholson Gothic horror novel.

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