Page 22 of Ho Ho Homicidal Mania
“Isn’tyouhating me enough for our love to bloom?” I tease, but my shoulders fall. I struggle to keep a lid on my excitement when it comes to romance.
Blake licks his lips, startled by my question. Tiny spiders crawl up my arms as we watch one another in silence, assessing the strength of the energy sparking between us.
“I don’thateyou,” he says in the end. “I’m just confused, because you’re not what I expected.”
“In a good way?”
Blake laughs and rubs his face in a careless way I find adorable. “Yes. But I also know you’re a killer, so I keep expecting you to turn me into your new project.”
I let go of him, because I don’t want to smother Blake. “You’re safe with me, Cryptic Boy. After all, I need new podcast episodes.”
He laughs once more, and I freeze when his hand touches my thigh, only to immediately pull away, as if he remembered he’s not supposed to be this touchy-feely. “I don’t doubt you’ll give me plenty of material to work on. Now that I know you only kill bad people, I’m almost sorry I can’t do a countdown to the next victim each December.” He drinks the coffee, finishes his pastry, but then starts wiggling closer to the edge of the bed.
“We’ll have to wait with any podcasting until I’m sure the person who ordered the hit is dead. For now, let’s enjoy the day. I left you a selection of clothes here,” I point to a chair, “and I’ll wait for you in the living room.” The very idea that someone who wants my precious sweet potato dead is out there makes me want to rage, so I take a deep breath.
“Thank you. I won’t be long,” Blake says and stretches on the way to the bathroom as if to show off the shape of his shoulders.
I in turn, can’t wait to show him off to Owen.
Chapter 10
Blake
It’s a bit overwhelmingto have the kind of morning I considered relegated to romantic movies. Sure, Iwasin chains when Nico first entered, but he brought me coffee, pastries, and even new clothes, which he must have bought for me, since there’s no way he owns anything my size.
Unless the garments belong to one of his past victims.
I grab the burgundy sweater with a Scandi pattern on the arms and chest, and sigh in relief when I find an intact label. It also says the piece is made of hundred percent wool, which starts a little fire inside me. It’s nice to know Nico remembered what I told him last night.
I’m tempted to have another pastry, but it would be a bit too indulgent on a normal day like this one, so I rush into the bathroom for a quick shower, and then pair the sweater with dark blue jeans that fit me perfectly.Despite Nico clearly having a taste for loud patterns and bright colors, he took care to pick out something I’d feel comfortable in, which is a rather new development in my life. I’ve been choosing my own clothes since I was thirteen.
Carl does sometimes offer me wearable gifts, but he never understood my taste. I didn’t have the heart to tell him, but I don’t think he notices that I never put on the belts with big, flashy buckles, or wear the uncomfortably large wristwatch he gave me for my last birthday. He doesn’t wear such things either, but I suppose he considers it a more youthful style, suitable for someone my age.
I stand in front of the tall, wall-mounted mirror to adjust my unruly curls and wonder if my host/jailor is starting to feel annoyed by how much time I’m taking. I’m ready, and I look good in the outfit Nico picked for me, but I’m almost afraid to see him again. The tension of last night is like a splinter under my nail, and I worry what might happen if things get out of hand. He seems nice enough as a person, and I can’t help being physically drawn to him, but he is a killer, who might just be playing nice to manipulate me. And this whole date thing is like an obstacle course full of quicksand traps.
I’ve never had a boyfriend.
I’ve never been on a date.
I only had my first kiss last night, with the Christmas Killer. Things seem to be moving way too fast.
When I finally emerge, I’m met with Nico’s sharp gaze and languid smile. He eyes me from head to toe, and I feel naked despite the layer of clothes on my back. He wants me. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. And he could have had me whether I wanted it or not, yet he’s giving me space and showering me with gifts.
He holds a coat for me like the perfect gentleman, and we put on hats and gloves as we head down the stairs. Nico looks so perfectly normal in a plaid red jacket worthy of a sexy lumberjack. Only the snowflakes on his neck, which I now know extend down his chest give him a bit of edge, but lots of people have tattoos. Not in a thousand years would I pick him out of a lineup as a killer. Heartbreaker? Definitely.
As he lets me through the door after tying a soft scarf around my neck, I let my thoughts drift to an alternative world where he and I met in the town closest to my home, where I would sometimes go to look at strangers and pick out books.
If he knocked my shopping out of my hands by bumping into me, would I let him invite me for a coffee? Could we maybe have great rapport, good enough that I would consider anything resembling a relationship? That would make my life unnecessarily complicated, and I always dreamed about a free and uninhibited life once I was of age, buthecould have charmed me.
Problem is, Nico is not the guy from my simple fantasy. He is the serial killer who’s been fascinating me for years, and that’s a whole other can of worms.
I can’t unsee him sawing a man’s head off, or the way he looked in a balaclava, dragging a body down a flight of stairs. I can’t unhear him talking about the darkness inside him, or how he’s at peace with killing because of a code.
But the worst thing is, I’m drawn to that side of him too. Morbid curiosity of the same kind that made me spend countless hours watching murder scene footage. He’s a car crash, and I can’t look away.
“Hey, Owen!” Nico says as soon as we’re downstairs, and one glance at the counter reminds me of my failureto alert my brother to my peril. The phone’s still there, so close and yet so far.
A young guy with dusky skin and short black hair looks up from a large container full of balls of ribbon and string. He’s dressed in a brown loungewear set meant to imitate a reindeer, but the smile he’s wearing for Nico briefly dies at the sight of me.
