Page 32 of Cuddling Sucks in Coffins
I nodded as I dug through my duffel by the door for some stakes. “Kind of like a breakfast cereal. Thank you, Eddie.”
Jacek slid a cushion off the couch and propped it against the far wall of the living room next to the TV. “Okay, so pretend that’s Paul’s face there.”
I crossed the blue mats to stand in front of it, loosed a breath, and narrowed my eyes at the target. “Done.”
“Remind me to never get on your bad side if you look at all your enemies like that.” He mock-shivered. “Scary.”
I snorted but it morphed into a sigh when he pressed in behind me, wrapping one arm around my waist. He splayed his fingers on my lower stomach so my ass rubbed against his crotch. Roiling heat dipped between my thighs, but I tried to ignore it. Easier thought than done. With his other hand, he lifted my arm straight out in front of me and adjusted the stake so the tip pointed backward in my grip. His touch was electric, his lips a cool balm down the column of my neck.
“Pretend you’re bringing a hammer down on a nail as you throw it. Wrist straight as you flick it.” He moved my wrist to show me. “Ready?”
“No.” I pressed back into him and wriggled against his hardening cock, triggering a growl from him and a rush of blood straight to my core. “But I will be once you step far back. I don’t want to hit any vampires by mistake.”
“Pretty sure you won’t hit what’s behind you.”
I shook my head. “You haven’t seen me throw.” Even when I’d had my slayer powers, I’d practiced and practiced, watched YouTube videos, and practiced more. There was a reason I preferred close combat.
Chuckling, he released me, taking his brain-scrambling touch with him.
I blocked out the steady hammering sound that echoed from the back of the house and what it meant. Instead, I focused on the couch cushion and pretended it was Paul’s face, on the grains of the wood in my stake, and threw it. It spun through the air and bounced harmlessly off the cushion.
I whistled.
“That was your first try,” Jacek said behind me. “It’s going to take a bit to get the feel for it.”
“I don’t have a bit. I still have to patrol tonight.”
He took my shoulders and squeezed. “Breathe.”
“This might be easier if I had my slayer p—”
“You’re not breathing.” He came closer so his body pressed against my back and tipped my chin so I would look at him. “You can’t do much else if you’re not breathing. I remember this from when I was alive.”
I forced myself to stop, recalculate, and just exist in the kind depths of Jacek’s eyes.
“Let’s try again, only this time see if you’re more comfortable throwing it without the spin.” He pulled another stake from my belt loops and fit it into my hand. “Contract your stomach muscles as you snap it out of your hand like a whip.”
“Like a whip. Got it.” I closed my eyes, visualizing my movements so the stake hit the target this time.
“Ready?” He let me go and moved back.
I opened my eyes, tightened my gut, and let it fly. This time, it stuck briefly into the cushion before clattering to the floor.
“That was better, Slayer. And dead center, too.
I sighed. “I need tokillthe cushion. I mean the vampires. That wasn’t a kill shot.”
He crossed the blue mats to pick up my fallen stakes. “Cushion slaying takes a while to master. Take a handful of these and then hurl them as fast as you can, one right after the other. Move around the living room like the cushion is a moving target. You’re the slayer.Still. Move like one, and give that cushion something to cry about.”
I nodded. He had a point, a sharp one that actually stuck. Standing still wasn’t how I typically handled vampires, cushiony or otherwise. Time to move. After fishing in my duffel bag for more stakes, I stood by the front door and glared down that damned cushion over my shoulder. Then, I spun around and chucked another stake. Without waiting to see if it connected, I launched myself into a roll over the blue mats, sprang up, and let loose another. Over and over, I did my graveyard dance, except instead of battling vampires up close and personal, I fought air, gravity, and distance. By the time I finished, a sheen of sweat drenched me.
Among the six or seven stakes I’d just thrown, one held inside the cushion. My jaw dropped as I blinked over to Jacek.
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with genuine pride. “We must warn the land to hide their cushions.”
I laughed, pitching to almost hysterical, until it died completely when Sawyer strode in the front door.
“It’s ready, Belle,” he said quietly.
