Page 73 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
I’m the one who can’t breathe. My fingers dig so hard into the counter before me, they lose all blood, all sensation.
He grips my arms, pressing himself against me from behind, his shadow devouring me. More muscled than ever, he’s a towering statue, cold marble with nothing but ice in his black heart. Acid scalds my throat from his touch, but I still can’t seem to move. Buried six feet in the earth, suffocating beneath the unstoppable force of my former tormentor. Every single moment spent with him slams against me. Blood, bruises, cracked ribs, teeth marks.
Thaddeus lowers his lips to the back of my head, far too tender for the demon inside him. “I’ve come to bring you home. Belladonna Thorne.”
28
I cannot protect her. By God, I cannot save her!
JACK
Imove through the hidden wing of the manor, gripping my cane to aid with the unfamiliar territory, testing any weak floorboards. My footsteps echo against the creaking floor.
The wing includes one room, but from what I can gather, it was simply a boarded-up servants’ entrance. Nothing to find but an empty dwelling of dust and shadows.
I’d hoped this forgotten part of the estate might offer a clue, anything that could lead us closer to finding my heart. But it was another dead end like all the ones Belle and I had encountered.
Frustration mounts deep in my chest, tightening like a noose. Time is slipping away, and I feel it more with every passing hour. The doubt creeps in like a poison, reminding me of the stakes—higher than ever.
No matter how much I want to believe, in the deepest recesses of my soul, I understand time is running out. Great spirits! Will tonight be the last time I speak to her? Breathe her in? Touch her? Kiss her?
Fuck, I should be with her. Not here with the moments slipping through our hands.
What will the coming year do to us? I want to believe our love is strong enough to conquer the separation, despite our marital vows…how we would never be parted.
I may be strong, but can my sweet, beautiful Belle’s heart endure?
I pause in this room—what must’ve once been a study, running my hand along the edge of a wooden desk covered in a thick layer of dust.
My fingers brush the velvet box in my pocket. I pull it out, the small weight of it grounding me in the silence. Inside is the ring I planned to give her tonight, after the festival. I thumb the edge of the box, opening it slightly to catch the glint of the band in the lantern light. My grandmother’s ring on my mother’s side. I buried Catharine with her wedding ring from my father’s side.
Tonight, I will propose to Belle. Curse or no curse. Despite our vows, despite her word to me, I need her answer. I need to know if she will wait for me if we cannot find my heart. What if this is all there is for us? Can she live with me like this, half a man,still tethered to the Curse wrought by my own hand? It isn’t fair to her—hell, I know that much. Belle deserves more than a fractured life with someone like me.
I cannot protect her. By God, I cannot save her!
Thunderation!—I swing my cane in a fit of rage, destroying what little comprises the chamber. My breaths thunder in the black solace of my mind. She overwhelms every horrid thought. Her love shines like the greatest starlight in my longest and darkest night.
Shoving the box back in my coat, I swallow the knot of guilt choking me since I first considered asking her. How can she agree to this fractured life with me? For 364 days, she will never hear my words, nor my touch. What a bloody devil I’ve been. Our romance has progressed for only a month. The most intense and rewarding month that most could ever comprehend, much less feel.
If I may love without a heart, without a head, then let it be said that I loved you, Belladonna Holloway, with all that I am.
My grip on the ring box tightens until I fear I will break it. What will happen if we can’t let each other go? Will the cruel forces of nature rip us apart? Will my Belle become a casualty of my goddamn curse? I cannot fathom a world where her heart does not beat. If such a thing were to happen, if we were to recover mine, I would give it to her in a moment.
I leave the wing, stepping back into the cool night air, trying to push away the thoughts swirling in my head. Belle is everything. The thought of losing her…it’s unbearable.
With the heaviness of my fate closing in, I start toward the bookshop, needing to see her, to shake off this weight clinging to me. Run my fingers through her hair. Fuck her hard against the nearest wall. Spend the rest of the night as one kiss, one flesh, one soul.
But the moment I open my manor’s front doors, I freeze in my tracks at the silhouetted figure.
A second goes by before I recognize the energy. The same deja vu pulses through me. In this moment, I know with every fiber of my being that she is far more than she seems. Mrs.Kravitson. Her countenance is grave. And her eyes seem to see right through me.
“I know who you are,” she says, her voice calm but firm. “And I knowwhatyou are.” She holds the knit pumpkin head, handing it to me. “You left this when you and Belle were…otherwise engaged.”
A chill rolls through me. I should’ve known she knew more than she let on. She has always been close to Belle, but this is different. The sense of déjà vu returns. She is far more than a nosy neighbor, far more than Elizabeth Holloway’s lifelong friend. Or the mouthpiece of the town. She possesses real power behind her gaze.
She steps closer, going so far as to ascend the steps toward me. Her energy is strong, and it’s clear she has no qualms whatsoever about seizing the moment and commanding, “Jackson Elias Moore.”
Chest tightening by the second, I give her a nod of confirmation, but do not relinquish my grip on the cane.
