Page 40 of Ho Ho Homicidal Mania
“I think I get it. There’s a difference between understanding things intellectually and actually living with the feeling,” he says softly.
I go to the pantry to grab a can of tomato sauce, so I can make us pasta, but the food here won’t be as good as what I was able to treat him to at my place.
I glance at his pretty face. He’s young, but has strong brows, and his jaw is already quite angular. It’s his eyes though that always draw me in, so inquisitive as they follow me through the room. I want to keep him so badly.
“Why did you choose to run your podcast anonymously? Didn’t you want to be known? Unlike me, your calling isn’t illegal.”
Blake shrugs and reaches out for the fire, as if he wants to grab the flames in his beautiful fingers. “Carl thought it might put a target on my back and draw in the wrong kind of people. I mean, evenyouare a fan,” he adds with a faint grin and looks up at the shadows on the ceiling, where I’m disgusted to see a whole tapestry of spiderwebs. If I were here alone, I wouldn’t have even noticed, but I want him to have a good time in conditions that are appropriate to the season. And Halloween was a long time ago.
“This place reminds me of my treehouse. It had a roof just like this, with beams. I would dry plants by hanging them off there.”
I’m so greedy for any little scrap of new information about him. “I hope that’s a positive comparison? I’ll make this place much more festive soon, I promise. I packed some Christmas lights, and we can dry orange slices.”
I decide to sweep the floor before doing any cooking, even though this cabin is more of a hunter’s mancave than the setting for a romantic escape. I don’t know why I remembered it as much cozier, because it’s clearly beneath Blake’s standards.
My guest nods and leans back in the armchair, wiggling his feet over the floor. He’s biting his plump lip in a way that has my dirty mind stirring, but he’s clearly not in the mood, so I focus on my work.
“Maybe it’s not worth all this effort?” Blake asks, freezing me to the floor. “We could just follow him to Aspen, have the Christmas Killer be a guest star of the serial murder scene there.”
I still, but my mind is racing. He hates it here. He wants out and once I get rid of his brother, he’ll be safe to untangle himself from me and my ugly dark cabin, the Christmas shop he hates, and my greedy hands.
I’m not letting that happen.
I shake my head, sweeping with more fervor. “We can’t do that yet. It will be much safer to end him when he’s back in a place I’m familiar with. And I’d like to prepare. I have satellite internet here so I can do some digging. That assassin he hired was no amateur. I need to know what I’m up against.”
Blake lowers his gaze, and his hand tightens on the armrest of the chair as he stares into the fire, likely desperate to convince me that we can’t stay here. “But that’s also giving them time to trackusdown, and Carl has all the resources.”
I put the kettle on the stove, hoping hot chocolate will soothe his fears. “It’s been snowing, and I cover my tracks when using the internet or phone. We’ll be safe here.” I walk up to him and stroke his hair. “Youare safe here.”
“I’m kinda putting my chances of leaving this place alive at seventy percent,” he tells me and follows that with a hollow laugh.
My heart drops. “You don’t trust me?”
Blake shoots to his feet. “I didn’t say that.”
I take off my hat and throw it to the other armchair. My basket with knitting supplies is still where I left it last time I visited. “Whatare you saying then? I know this place isn’t like the luxurious getaways you’re used to—”
“I’m not used to anygetaways, because Carl wanted to keep me close to home. I was supposed to start traveling at eighteen. I’m just scared, and unsure, and I don’t know what will happen to me in the future so I made a joke,” comes out of his mouth as he approaches me. “Don’t you see that my life is ruined?”
I step closer and cup his face. When I touch him, it’s as if the room lights up with non-existent fairy lights, suddenly cozy. The fire crackles, sharing its warmth with the room, and the fragrance of wood is so unbelievably soothing.
“It’s far from ruined.Thisis just a bump on your way to a fantastic life. You will have everything you ever wanted, I’ll make sure of that.”
Blake’s lashes flutter, and he hesitates for only a moment before clasping his fingers on my jacket. “All this just because I’m your type?”
I run my thumbs over his cheeks, now annoyed that the kettle is starting to whistle at me, because I don’t want to go deal with boiling water when I have a fire in my hands.
“It’s not just that. I feel a connection with you. A bond I made over the muzzle of a gun when you pointed it at me when yousawme. And it doesn’t matter if you want me. You still have me.”
A wave of intense emotion wells inside me, crashing over the jagged rocks of my heart. I don’t know where this journey will take me, but I’ll just follow Blake’s tide.
“I have you?” he asks so quietly I prepare myself for another rejection, but then he’s grabbing at my cheeks and pulling me down until our lips touch.
My hands settle on his flanks, then around him, and I wish he was out of his coat already so I can feel him better. I ignore the kettle long enough for the whistle to sing, and it sounds like fireworks to my ears, a colorful explosion above us as I greedily part his lips with my tongue.
I need him to feel the depths of my devotion. My hunger is insatiable but at least I get to taste his lips.
The broomstick drops from my hands, and Blake shivers, pushing into my arms as it hits the floor. I pull him with me to turn the gas off on the stove without taking my mouth from his, and his breath whispers between our faces when we move. He tastes of the sweet tea we got on the way here and of youthful desire, which cannot, and will not, be stopped.
