Page 32 of Ho Ho Homicidal Mania
“I—maybe being sleepy got to both our heads,” I respond with a weak laugh, but I can’t deny that I enjoy his touch all over me and knowing that he’s now marked me with his scent. And yes, I’m still slightly turned on by lying under him with my pants down.
“Oh, I’ve never been more awake, sweetie. But let me know what you need. Snacks? Shower? Back to sleep?”
I don’t know how to feel when he calls me that. Like I’m already his, like he knows my hard outer shell is just that. Because yeah, it is nice to be someone’ssweetie. No one’s ever called me by a pet name, and I didn’t know how much my body needed it until now.
The soft tone of his voice is like a caress, and I arch closer, only satisfied when my nape is tucked against his warm flesh. I should say shower, because I am sticky, and tidy people wash up after having sex, but that is thelastthing I want, closely followed by a conversation I’m not ready to have. So it’s anoto snacks as well.
“I… I think we should just try to sleep.”
Nico turns to his side, but pulls me with him, wrapping his arms around me as if I’m his personal teddy bear. My pants are down, and he’s not bothering to pull up his underwear, so I have a sneaky suspicion that if no one comes to save me tonight, I’ll be getting sticky with more cum first thing in the morning.
…Whichis not a bad prospect?
“Are you my boyfriend yet?” Nico asks, nuzzling the back of my head and leaving me speechless.
My breath comes out as a whine, which is a level of embarrassment I can’t take, but before I need to declare my intentions, something stomps on the roof above us, and we both still.
“Santa?” Nico utters, and I imagine the stars in his eyes despite knowing that it’s definitelynotSanta.
Chapter 14
Nico
A shadow obscures thesky, briefly watching us through the window in the sloped ceiling above, but then glass breaks, and the mysterious figure descends on us in a hail of transparent shards. I pull Blake close, to protect him from the glass, but when a serrated dagger flashes in the faint glow of my electronic clock, my lizard brain takes over.
Big, green eyes stare at me in panic. Blake stumbles off the mattress on wobbly legs, like a lamb that’s never seen a wolf before. The heavy man in black, smelling of leather and oranges, reaches for him instead of focusing on me like I expected him to.
I don’t have time to consider why he’s here. But I know knives, and the blade in his hand is sharp enough to cut halfway through a man’s neck in one go. I jump off the bed, standing between the attacker and Blake, and turnmy back on the bastard to avoid getting stabbed in the guts.
Pain rips through my back as my flesh opens up, spilling blood, but I slam my elbow into his arm, already turning, and the fucker drops the knife, stumbling back.
He’s not getting Blake unless he pries him out of my death-stiffened hands.
A split-second decision makes me reach for the knife, but I realize how wrong that is when a garotte tightens around my neck and yanks me back.
The thin metal thread sinks into my flesh, so deep I can’t loosen it with my fingers, and when I find myself unable to breathe and my mind goes fuzzy, panic sets in. I sink my nails into the thick hand tightening the wire around my throat, but it doesn’t budge. When the stocky form of my opponent lays its weight on me, I attempt to break his ribs with my elbow. The down jacket he’s wearing softens my blows. As the garrotte tightens, darkening the edges of my vision, I struggle to come up with ways to free myself. I’m like a seal caught between a killer whale’s teeth, and unless some miracle—
A loudthudis followed by the thug’s grunt. The encroaching darkness retreats as the wire loosens. Blake emerges from the black spots dancing in my eyes. He pulls up his pants, panting, eyes wide with terror, and the large wooden Santa gnome I painted last year trembles in his hand.
I want to tell him he did good, but there’s no time for praise yet.
The assassin is dazed but already tries getting up from the bed where he fell. I grab the comforter and pull, dragging him off with it. Blood drums in my head, pain in my back radiating all the way to my fingers, but I don’t let go of the fabric and pull again. He rolls off the comforterand to the floor like a toy. I finally have the upper hand. I drop the cover on him and descend on top while he’s blinded.
I don’t know how he found out where Blake was, but this is clearly yet another assassin out to extinguish his life, and that is not going to happen on my watch. The bastard twists under me, and I lift my body in the last moment when a dagger pierces the comforter, emerging in an explosion of down. I go rigid as I attempt to block his arm with my knee without giving his lower body too much wiggle room. The dagger punches through the layers of fabric and duck feathers again. I’m in a daze and slam my fist into the bastard’s head over and over, determined to protect Blake from this monster. I might have delivered more blows than was strictly necessary by the time it becomes clear my opponent has gone limp.
I’m breathing hard, but there’s no time to lose in case he’s not dead. I actually hope he’s not, because this fucker might have the information I need.
Blake is still holding the wooden statue and stares at me with raw fear in those green eyes. “I have a box of fairy lights in the living room. Behind the sofa. Bring them.”
“Wh-what?” he utters.
I grin when I sense movement under me. “They’re cables. To tie him.”
Blake gives me a frantic nod and makes a step toward the door, only to stop with a little whine. I don’t know what this is about until he switches on the light, revealing the glass scattered everywhere. He twists his leg to pull a shard from the heel of his foot.
Our eyes meet, and he places the figure back on my nightstand. “I’ll… get shoes too,” he says as he takes a long stride and exits the room.
“Be careful,” I add, but soon enough, he’s back with both slippers and the cable.
