Page 282 of Mayhem and Minnie

“Costume for the festival,” I mention with a fake smile.

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t comment.

It takes us some twenty minutes to reach the designated address. I pay and we get out of the car.

“This is it?” Minnie asks as we identify the house number.

It’s an old gothic manor with vines intertwined all over the facade. Three stories with an attic that has seen better days and with windows covered with pieces of wood.

A crow caws from the yard. Perched on a tree branch, the bird stares at us.

A shiver runs down my back.

Eerie.

But I suppose after everything that has already happened, a crow stalking us is the last of our worries.

I push the gate open. It releases a loud screech, making the crow caw again. But this time, when I look at it, I note it’s flown on the top of the fence.

It’s watching us, tilting its head from side to side.

As we step into the yard, the crow flies off the fence, perilously close to our heads.

“What the fuck?” I curse, swatting the bird away.

Its caws become more insistent as it surrounds us before finally flying away just as the front door of the house opens.

“I don’t like this,” Minnie whispers as she huddles closer to my side.

I grunt and hold on to her tighter.

I may have been a bit annoyed with her for her accusations, but I find that I cannot ignore her for too long. Already I have an insane urge to hug her and kiss her and just feel the warmth of her skin against mine, which is odd considering the fact that she should be the one consoling me.

Alas, after we leave this world, we’ll have more time for that.

I’m already thinking of the different pouts or cute expressions I can make to prompt her to console me, perhaps with a few kisses. And preferably a little lower down my body.

Now I know she said we can only kiss, but she didn’t specifically say kisses on the lips.

Already, my mind is conjuring up other types of kisses, with me on my back, her cunt in my mouth while she’s on top of me sucking on my cock—erm, kissing.

Goddamn it. Why did those Primordials have to create males with such a primitive brain concerned only with mating?

I groan the moment I think about the word mating because that invokes a whole other slew of images that go far beyond kissing.

Fuck! Those demons don’t even need to try to hurt me since I’ll likely die of blue balls if we don’t find that sanctuary.

“Marlowe?” Minnie whispers, gazing up at me.

Her eyes are once more a dark color, but there’s something awfully vulnerable and frail about her expression that tugs at my heartstrings. Funny, until a few months ago, I would have sworn up and down I didn’t have a heart. Now? It fucking sings.

“What?” I ask, sharper than intended.

She presses her lips together and flutters her lashes.

“Before we go in,” she starts hesitantly.

I raise a brow at her to continue.

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