Page 37 of Of Blood and Smoke

I giggled as a lone tear tracked down my cheek. He was such adad. He even wore jorts with New Balance sneakers.

After I showered and packed away my toiletries, I crawled into bed. Brett had messaged saying he’d be here at nine in the morning, and I answered saying “Okay” and set my phone beside my pillow. My lists were written, I’d strategized how my boxes would be loaded and unloaded. Everything was ready and in order.

My anxiety was driving me crazy, reminding me of all the things that could go wrong in the morning, and I nearly wished I’d invited Brett over. He could’ve given me a massage, or maybe even an orgasm, perhaps. Something to calm my mind and send me off to dreamland.

I almost hoped for my personal home invader to show up in my dreams. Maybe he could give me a rub down? The strange thought that he might not know where I’d moved crossed my mind and left me oddly bereft. I snickered thinking about what a weirdo I was—nobody should want such a thing to be following them around. Then I remembered he was merely a figment of my subconscious mind.

It was hard to clear my head but eventually, sleep took me away. I must’ve been trying to get comfortable because I found myself on my back, after I’d nodded off on my side, and once again I couldn’t move.

Like the other times before, the air appeared to be wavering like there was a film of heat or humidity suspended in it. My eyes darted, looking for my visitor, fully expecting to see him. I couldn’t see a thing and railed at my paralysis, cursing it.

Speech still escaped me. The words floated by in my head, but they fell away without materializing.

The mattress dipped beside me and a hand smoothed down my arm. “Little One,” the voice said. “Did you miss me?”

There was an amused tone to his words, and I struggled to identify the voice. It was his, I knew, my mystery visitor. The problem was I wanted to see if it was familiar outside of these nocturnal appointments, but I couldn’t place it despite a familiarity that hung just out of reach.

Debating what I should say, I paused, before I realized he wouldn’t hear me anyway. “Yes,” I whispered.

“How much?” he purred, shocking me, before interlacing his fingers with mine.

My heart thudded over the intimate contact. “A little bit?” I wasn’t going to tell him I’d been lying here hoping he’d show up and now I didn’t know what to say.

He leaned over me and pressed his lips against my forehead. No cloak and hood, I noticed. A suit jacket.

“I’m not supposed to want or allow this,” he stated softly. “But when I saw your heart, it lit a fire within me. I’ve never been drawn to someone like this, not once over my very long life.”

Very long life. His words echoed in my head. He didn’t sound very old. I would’ve guessed he was in his thirties, perhaps early forties.

“What are you? Some kind of evil spirit?”

Forcing the words out was becoming more and more difficult, taking an amount of effort that was extremely tiring.

He didn’t feel personally nefarious to me, even with the sinister air that clung to him, but I knew he couldn’t be good if hewas breaking into people’s homes, and their bodies mysteriously froze when he was near. It didn’t upset me nearly as much as it should’ve and had rather the opposite effect. I didn’t want to think about what that said about me.

Wait—I’m sleeping. This isn’t real.

The man let out a deep laugh. “Perhaps. One wouldn’t want to get on my bad side.” He lifted me gently, angling me so my head rested against his chest. His hand slipped under my shirt, and he began lightly caressing my abdomen, sending bolts of heat straight down between my legs.

“Patience, Little One,” he said.

If I could’ve blushed, I would’ve. Maybe I had, it was impossible to tell. Fleetingly, I wished I’d left my mirror fixed to my wall, so I could see his face.

He bent his head and began trailing his lips down my neck. I felt the warmth of his inhalations and then the barest brush of something sharp. My pussy contracted and his fingers grasped at my waist.

My senses were beyond heightened, every brush of his skin against my own charged with explosive electricity. My breathing shallowed and I wanted so badly to shove his hand south, but I was completely at his mercy. I felt his eagerness growing right beneath my rear and all I could think wasJesus Christ. I want that.

But even more than that, I wanted to move, to see his face. I was fighting against the invisible hold he seemed to be responsible for harder than almost anything I’d ever fought.

The authority and power he exuded over the atmosphere were nearly tangible. It wouldn’t have surprised me if it were a living, breathing entity of its own. The effect he was having on me was all-consuming. My nocturnal intruder was the bogeyman, and I was his willing slave who would’ve doneanything he told me. This was the darkest and most delicious dream I’d ever had.

Fighting my uncooperative limbs, I was hoping to at least free an arm like I had before. Even while distracted by the touch dangerously close to my core, part of my brain focused on willing myself to move. He laughed softly over my struggle, and I realized if he could sense it or see it somehow, it had to be possible to break out of the hold.

“Where are you trying to go? Did you think it would be that easy?” he murmured, letting out another low chuckle. He moved his hand and curled it below my chin.

Gently, he turned me and began running his lips down the side of my face, close to my hairline. I heard him exhale with a low sigh, stirring the fine hairs by my ear. The sensation was luxurious and seductive, I felt myself melting into him, giving up my fight.

If he were here to kill me, it’d be the most pleasant way to depart this life I could ever imagine.

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