Page 25 of Behind the Shadows
I set the phone on my lap, debating whether I should be pissed that Death had been tracking me or not. He’d never given any indication that he’d watched me before, but Death didn’t openly admit much unless he was concerned. Even though Dope had asked why I kept disappearing from work, I’d held him off with lame excuses … or so I’d thought.
Over the next hour, I finally realized what I needed to do. It would take some preparation, but one thing I was clear about. I had to know who Holland really was. I had to put that piece to rest, then I’d deal with Draco. The first thing I did was slip a tracker underneath her rental car.
The dashboard clock changed to six p.m., and I started my car while I waited for Holland to leave work. Once she was on the road, and I was certain she was going home, I left her. I would have to trust that she’d be smart and stay under the radar. Plus, I could keep an eye on her anytime I wanted to.
At eleven that night,Holland’s lights turned off except for the one over the kitchen sink. After another hour, I picked the lock on her back door and slipped inside. This time the damn hinges hadn’t squeaked when I opened it, thanks to a little WD-40 that I kept in my car. I wondered if she’d noticed that or if she was too far into her head about Draco.
The lingering scent of hamburgers greeted me as I slipped inside. I stood still for several minutes, listening for any movement. Quietly, I made my way to her bedroom and glanced in. The peach bed sheets were wrapped around her in a tangled mess. She’d clearly been tossing and turning. My attention traveled down her, my cock growing hard at the sight of her nipples pushing against the fabric of the sheet. I resisted the urge to stay with her for now. First, I needed to look for answers.
When I had visited her a few nights ago, I’d moved the manila envelope from the living room to the kitchen, not bothering to check the contents inside. However, after I’d installed the cameras, she’d fixated on the envelope with an unwavering gaze as if it held an ominous power that could unravel her world. The envelope seemed to weigh heavily on her mind, its presence looming like an unspoken threat. I suspected it might hold secrets that could shed some light on my questions.
I headed to the guest bedroom and opened the first drawer, where she’d tucked the information away. Once I’d opened it and retrieved the envelope, I sat at the end of the bed and removed the blue-and-white paper—a death certificate. Scanning the information, I searched for Samantha’s name. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure if I recalled her last name.Maybe it was Blacksmith or something similar. My mother had introduced her parents by their last name, but it had been so long ago that my memory was hazy. My throat tightened as I prepared myself to see her name. Who she really was, and if I had …
My pulse pounded against my neck and sweat beaded on my forehead. Who knew a piece of paper could unnerve me so much? I scanned the name over and over again. Allison Blackwood. Frowning, I peered into the envelope and spotted several newspaper clippings. I pulled them out, scanning the first article, the obituary.
Allison Blackwood was survived by her younger sister, Samantha Blackwood, and their parents, Sam and Joy Blackwood. The celebration of life would be held at Pines Baptist Church at four p.m. on October thirty-first.
A jolt of shock surged through me as I scanned the information, again and again.Samantha!My pulse skipped a beat, echoing my disbelief. How was she alive? What happened to her sister? It was only three days after … after I … I rubbed my jawline, desperately trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. The harder I tried to make sense of it all, the more tangled my thoughts became, leaving me with a barrage of unanswerable questions swirling in my mind like a storm.
Fury ignited like a wildfire in the pit of my stomach, burning with a relentless intensity. One way or the other, Holland would give me answers. If I was correct and she’d changed her name to Holland, that meant one thing.
This time I was more prepared than I had been the night I’d hidden in her damn closet. I reached into my back pocket and retrieved the red devil mask I had designed by the same person who had custom-made Death’s masks, which meant it fit me like a second skin. I slipped it on before I left the guest room and made my way back to Holland’s bedroom. I clutched theenvelope in my left hand and set it down on the chair next to her dresser. Before I got answers, I wanted something else first—her.
My breath caught in my throat. Even when we’d first met, I thought she was pretty, but now … now she was exquisite.Mine. And once I claimed her, she would belong to me forever. There was no turning back.
A prescription bottle on her nightstand next to a pack of birth control pills caught my attention, and I quietly picked it up. Ambien. Had she taken one? My guess was yes since I hadn’t seen the bottle the other night when I’d been in her closet.
I set the pills down and waved my hand in front of her face. The rise and fall of her chest told me she was sleeping deeply. Perfect. This just made the evening more interesting. I slowly peeled the sheet from her, staring down every inch of her. Instead of her sexy little pajamas, she was naked—exposed, vulnerable. Her pink nipples hardened with the air. I continued to untangle the sheet from her body and left it in a heap at the bottom of the bed. Holland didn’t even stir.
I traced a path between her breasts before I seized a nipple with a possessive grip. My tongue flicked over my lip, anticipation electrifying the air as I settled beside her on the bed. Leaning down, I captured her nipple between my teeth. Her soft cry ignited my senses, and I bit the other, savoring the intoxicating mix of pleasure and desire.
“The things I’m going to do to you, Holland,” I whispered. My hand traveled with deliberate slowness down her flat stomach, a journey filled with anticipation, and slipped between her silky thighs. I spread them apart. My cock thickened as my gaze landed on her shaved pussy.
I leaned over and dragged my nose up her inner thigh, drawing in her maddening scent like a man possessed, as my cock throbbed, ready to fuck her. A wicked grin crept acrossmy mouth as I roughly spread her pussy lips, exposing her throbbing clit. I plunged a finger into her dripping cunt, coating it in her juices before I sucked it clean, her taste driving me to the brink of insanity. Fortunately, my mask molded to my skin, allowing for the eye and mouth holes to be accessible.
Her scent invaded my senses as I worshipped her pussy. She released another soft moan, but she never stirred.
My tongue circled her clit, slow at first, then with rhythmic flicks until her thighs squeezed around my head. I pushed her legs wider. I slid two fingers inside her, crooking to find that perfect spot. She began to tense, to tremble.
I buried my face in her, grabbing her hips to keep her from writhing away, letting my teeth graze the inside of her thigh as she shivered. When I felt her tense, that quiver of orgasm approaching, I paused and looked up at her. Her expression was peaceful, dreaming, mouth half open in a silent gasp. There was a purity to it, a surrender.
I removed the cross from my neck, nearly exploding with pent-up desire. I dragged the cool metal up her inner thigh and then traced a line across her sternum, her chest heaving with the sensation. Her body was present, but her mind was lost in a haze of need and anticipation—craving the mark I was about to leave.
I pressed the end of the cross against her clit, circling it roughly before plunging it into her entrance. She gasped as I thrust it in deeper, the metal slick with her arousal. I worked it in and out, slowly at first, then faster, harder; my breath came in ragged gasps as I watched the cross disappear into her slick cunt. I was consumed, possessed, my entire being vibrating with the need to claim her, to leave her writhing and marked and mine.
She arched off the sheets, a leg thrown over my shoulder, her toes curling in the air. I let the chain fall, the cross dangling from my fist as I drove her further into the edge of her release.
Holland whimpered, a tremor passing through her as I fucked her with slow, deep strokes.
Her eyelids fluttered, the lines of sleep and waking blurring. She made a soft sound as I pressed the tip of my tongue to her clit again, flicking, then sucking, feeling her thighs clamp again around my head.
I sat up, cock aching, circled by the sweet scent of her. I took a moment to admire my work—the way her back arched for me, the way she glowed, even as she slept. While her pussy greedily took in the cross, I unbuttoned my jeans and freed my aching cock, stroking myself as the sight of her consumed me.
Shifting back, I stroked myself harder, squeezing the base. I wanted to bury myself inside her and fuck her awake, to fill her with my cum and make her beg.
But I was a patient man.
When Holland came, a soft, surprised cry escaped her lips. Her body arched like a bow, and her fingernails grazed across my shoulders, leaving a stinging sensation in their wake. I pulled the necklace free from her pussy—sliding it up her stomach, catching on the curve of one breast before laying it across her chest like a holy relic.
