Page 151 of A Curse On Black Lake
“Do you know why they do that?”
“Could be a lot of reasons. Sometimes they react to my own emotional turmoil. But other times it’s because they’re aware of something. They don’t give me details like that,” she says.
Eliana shifts her head and leans forward, brushing her lips against mine.
I slide my hand to her backside pulling her further into me.
She slides her leg between my thighs, and I kiss her again.
“I want you to know that I’m not kissing you because of everything that happened today.”
“It’s okay if you are,” I tell her.
She kisses me again, fisting my shirt in her small hand. “I don’t want you to think I’m using you,” she says.
I chuckle and knead the back of her neck. “You can use me however you want, little witch.”
The corner of her mouth tips up and drops in a breath. “I don’t want to weigh you down with my mess, and that seems to be all I’m doing. Especially with your own.”
“No, you’re not. You’re keeping me from being arrested. Though I think that problem could solve itself.”
“If we can figure out who is stalking me?” she asks.
“I believe so.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she mumbles.
“We have to Eliana. We need a game plan. We can’t keep taking things as they come. He’s angry, and based on the state of your poor goat, I think I’m the cause of it,” I tell her.
She breaks eye contact because she knows I'm right.
“It’s all so heavy,” she whispers.
“That’s why I’m here to help you carry it.”
“You’re not an ox, Killian, you’re not meant to carry it all either.”
“So then let’s stop tryin’ to drag it with us.” I offer.
“I don’t know how to do that,” she says.
“We can figure it out together.”
Her eyes brighten, and she arches into me. I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it. “Do you mean that?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean … most of the time.”
Eliana gives me a knowing look, and whispers, “Kiss me.”
I dip down, and she sighs into the way our mouths meld together, and I can’t help the groan that builds up my throat with the way her body melts into mine.
“Can you take me somewhere?” she asks as she twirls a piece of my hair around her finger.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask her.
“To the cemetery.”
I’m all too familiar with this cemetery, though many in Black Lake are. It’s massive for a reason, going back to the 1850s.
