Page 98 of Bewicched

He went and grabbed the ball, wound up, and let it sail out over the darkened ocean. A seal barked as Declan closed and locked the door. His hand hovered over a switch to the right of the door. “Does this put the shutters down?”

I nodded.

“Okay?”

“Good call.” I flicked my fingers at the back door, making the glass opaque before I did the same with the skylight over my bed.

I didn’t know what to do. I should probably eat something, but I knew my stomach would rebel. Maybe I should take a shower. Or just go to bed. I stared at the tentacles. I was so behind on that. I could pull an all-nighter and work on the tentacles. I wasn’t feeling it, though.

My father gave me these earrings. I’d denied myself a gift from my father because I knew the cousins would throw a shit fit. Why didn’t Aunt Sylvia ever tell me? And why didn’t Mom want me to have them? He wants to meet me and sent me Wilbur to keep an eye on me.

I needed aspirin. My head was killing me. I also needed to get changed. Oh, I should fix the chain on the handbag. I needed to find my tools first, though. I haven’t made jewelry in a while. I also needed to figure out what to make Dave as a thank you for a demon tutorial.

“Hey, Ursula?”

I turned to see Declan standing with his arms open.

“You look like you could use a hug.”

I walked into his arms and wrapped mine around him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I mumbled, my words muffled by his shirt.

“I do. You don’t get anywhere near enough sleep. Your aunt just died. Your father…” and he proceeded to list everything swimming around in my head. “It’s a lot. Now, how about this?” He dragged his hands down my back, palmed my butt, and hiked me up so I had my legs wrapped around his waist. “I’ll carry you up and you try to sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll regroup and you’ll figure out what needs to be done first. Okay?”

I nodded, exhausted yet ridiculously aroused. “We need to figure this out,” I said, running a gloved finger down his nose, over his cheek. God, he was gorgeous.

He growled low and deep, and I felt it vibrating through certain parts of my body. Oh, my.

“The universe could not be this cruel, to place a siren in my path and then not let me touch her.” He kneaded my butt, dropping me down so I rubbed against his bulging zipper.

At the top of the stairs, he crossed to the bed and laid me down. He grabbed one of my legs, lifting it over his shoulder as he leaned down, hovering over me, skin not touching. “We’re going to figure this out real fast, okay?”

I nodded, not breaking eye contact. When he tried to get up, I wrapped my other leg around him. He moved his hips, hitting just the right spot. Supporting his weight over me with one arm, his other hand slid up my side before settling on my breast. I let out a gust of breath, squirming to get closer as his thumb found my nipple, brushing over it, back and forth. “So beautiful,” he breathed.

It didn’t take long before both of us were breathing heavily, wanting to kiss but knowing we couldn’t, not until we figured out how to touch without muting my power. When I flew apart, he slumped forward on a long groan.

He kissed my sweatered breast and stood. “Go to sleep. I need to get cleaned up and changed. I’m a light sleeper. If you need me, call.”

“Do you want to use my shower?”

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbled, heading down the stairs. “I haven’t had to do this particular type of cleanup since I was a teenager, but I remember how it’s done.”

I grinned in the dark, loose, happy, relaxed, achy. If that was how he could make me feel fully clothed, with no skin involved...

I undressed and crawled into bed. Thankfully I fell asleep almost immediately.

He’s out, wandering the woods, looking for a new workshop. The excitement of the cops investigating his old workshop is fading. Now he’s just pissed off. He worked hard to make sure he had everything he needed down there. He needs to start again. And he hasn’t found a place anywhere near as good as his last one. He hates that he had to rush with the girl. He needs more time with his experiments.

Stupid cops. While he’s out, he looks in on a few he’s had his eye on. He might have chanced it, made his move tonight, but he doesn’t have a good place to take them and all his tools are gone. No. He’ll wait. Collect more tools and have them ready before he grabs another one. He really hates waiting, though.

He isn’t paying attention as he walks out of the forest and up the path to his back door. Scrolling through pictures of Christopher and then Ana, reliving it. Maybe he won’t wait.

Bright lights flash in his eyes. “Down! Get down. Face down. Hands to the side.”

Hernández and Osso walk out of the dark into the stark light. A uniformed cop handcuffs the kid and then pulls him up to his feet as Detective Osso uses an evidence bag to pick up the dropped phone, an image of Ana glowing on the screen.

The kid starts crying. “I didn’t do anything! You can’t prove it. I’m just a kid. You can’t arrest me.” He struggles against the restraints, trying to kick the cop who holds him in place.

Detective Hernández leans in. “I’m afraid you’ll find that isn’t true. We’ve already spoken to your grandmother. She gave us permission to search your room. We have your maps and your diaries. We have your phone and the pictures you took as you tortured and killed your victims.” Her voice is low and weary. None of them are gloating about catching this particular killer. They look, all of them, sick to their stomachs.

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