Page 55 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
“Bless my soul, child!” she exclaims in a deep southern twang and cups my shoulders. “You, Belladonna Holloway, are far more influential than I, as you say. Oh, they might fear and respect me because I’ve always been a force of nature, which my quiet husband loved all his days till he passed. But you, Belle!—Oh, our precious Belle, as far as our town is concerned, you are a national treasure.”
I’m at a loss for words. Utterly speechless.
She reaches out to finger my curls. “You came out of that dreaded cult. The first to ever do so following Lizzy’s egress.”
Both words ricochet inside me…in a positive way. She called Mimi Lizzy. Not Elizabeth. Perhaps they were closer than I ever realized. And seriously? Mrs. Kravitson knows words like “egress”? Anyone looking at her would assume she’s simply the old-town, frumpy gossip with her worn dresses, peasant skirts, and vintage blouses with unashamed gray buns.
“Um…” I manage to recover and lower my hands to squeeze hers. “I suppose you didn’t simply come in to be my knight in shining armor?”
She beams at me. “Our astute girl, yes.” She knows “astute”? “I came to see if you might know where a certain book is. I loaned it to Lizzy many years ago.”
Suspicion prickles me at first, but it could be any book. Lifting my shoulders, I squeeze them together, hoping she doesn’t mind my next question. “If you don’t mind if I interrupt for a moment, could you share why you call her Lizzy?”
Mrs. Kravitson smiles warmly. “I don’t mind for a moment, sweet Belle. But if you wouldn’t mind…I’d care for a spot of tea.”
I blink—then immediately excuse myself for the kitchen.
As soon as I open the swinging door, I come face to face with Jack’s pumpkin head. I dart my eyes to the front and give him the pronounced “shh” finger to my lips. Loud enough he may hear in our bond before I take him by the arm and direct us to the tea kettle. Electric, it brews in less than 60 seconds.
As I brew the tea and carefully select the china teacups for the moment, I whisper, “I have so much to tell you, Jack. I just need to speak to Mrs. Kravitson. I will tell you everything soon. Wait for me, please? You can eavesdrop as much as you can.”
Jack slides a hand around my waist, and I can sense every ounce of his possession, his eagerness from his hardness throbbing against me.I would be able to eavesdrop much better if I released inside you first, my Belle.
I part my lips but can’t help my blush and my smile.
It won’t take long,he whispers in our bond and fingers my curls with hisother hand.
I turn off all the lights, but I still need him to clamp a hand around my mouth as he fucks me against the nearest wall while the kettle sings its finale. When he plays with my clit, I fall apart, biting as much of his palm as I can to prevent my shrieks from penetrating the air.
As soon as he finds his release, I grip the sides of his face, kiss him hard as I’ve done every night this week, and then un-mount. As soon as his extensive length leaves my center, it takes everything in me to leave the sanctum of his fullness.
He remains close while I adjust my stockings, then prepare the tea. I love his nearness. He should never feel like he needs to give me space. I don’t care if it’s not befitting an “independent” woman like myself. A thread of space between us would be too much. Maybe it’s more independent to make that choice for myself.
I turn with the two teacups in my hands. He’s still shrouded in darkness as the curse dictates. I often wonder if I turned on the lights, would the Curse vanish his face? Would I see him but for a moment?
Too curious aboutMrs. Kravitson’s connection to my grandmother, I carry the tea to the main sitting area where she waits. I’ve never taken a moment to appreciate how kind her features are beneath the news-mongering facade. She must have been a beauty when she was younger, too. Sometimes, she gives me this sense of…déjà vu. I’ve never been able to figure it out.
After setting the tray down on the coffee table, Mrs. Kravitson helps herself to peppermint while I select a black, cinnamon-spiced tea. Late-nightactivitieswith Jack have me taking more caffeine than normal.
Scooting to the edge of my seat, I join my hands, meeting Mrs. Kravitson’s knowing brown eyes. In some ways, she reminds me of Mimi, but Mimi was strong and wise with a matronlycharisma. Mrs. Kravitson is shrewd, cunning, and far more perceptive than I’ve given her credit for.
“Thank you for staying, Mrs. Kravitson,” I tell her, steeping my teabag.
She waves a hand. “Please, call me Mrs. K. Or Mrs. Cassie. Your Mimi used to call me Cassie.”
My chest warms because I don’t know if I ever caught her first name until now.
Once she sips her tea, Mrs. Cassie settles into her chair, the familiar creak of the old wood filling the small room. Her eyes soften as she looks at me, tracing memories that seem to stretch back lifetimes. “You know,” she begins, her voice husky with age, “your grandmother and I go back further than you know. I was just a little girl on a farm outside a small town with high fences all around it.”
I raise my brows at how close Mrs. Cassie was to the Covenant.
Curious, I lean forward and ask, “You knew her when you were kids?”
Mrs. Cassie nods, a faint smile curling her lips. “Oh, yes. Your grandmother and I met when we were about ten years old. I lived on the farmhouse just outside the boundary of that cult, and Mimi wassupposedto stay within those fences, you see. But there was this spot, right on the edge of the woods. It’s where Lizzy found a break in the fence line. She was always a free spirit, you must know.”
I nod, folding my hands around the warm mug with nostalgia creeping into me along with the heartache.
Mrs. Cassie sets her mug on the tray and smiles shrewdly. “One day, she slipped through and wandered into the forest, and I may have stumbled upon her because a bee stung her, and she was caterwauling like a crazed banshee!”
