Page 40 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
And for one beat, one long suspended moment—we’re not enemies. Not rivals. Not in a war.
Just two people telling the truth in a room full of ghosts.
She breathes. I breathe.
Then she whispers, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
Her eyes dare me. “Why haven’t you touched me yet?”
She might as well have detonated a grenade.
My pulse detonates. My patience detonates. The last thread of my control snaps.
I move slow—too slow—closing the space between us until I feel her breath against my mouth. My voice drags low.
“Because,” I say, “once I touch you—I won’t stop.”
Her pupils blow wide. She sways closer.
“Once I get my hands on you,” I murmur, “I’m not giving you back.”
Air rushes between us. Heat. Gravity. Hunger.
She whispers, “Then maybe you should?—”
A shriek splits the air. Aspen screams and launches backward as a black blur explodes out of the fireplace.
“What the?—”
“BAT!” she screeches, diving behind me.
Chaos erupts. A furious, winged demon banshee circles violently overhead, screaming vengeance from the depths of its hellish soul. Aspen clings to me like she has a death wish. I don’t know whether to laugh or duck.
The bat dive-bombs us again. Aspen lets out a high-pitched noise that might be a curse or prayer.
“It’s going to kill us!” she cries.
“It’s an ounce of fluff with wings,” I tell her.
“It has fangs!”
“So do squirrels.”
“That is NOT comforting!”
The bat swoops again. I grab the bear pelt blanket off the couch and swing it like a net.
Aspen shrieks, “Get it! Get it! Get it!”
“If you keep screaming it will go for your mouth.”
She clamps her hands over her lips with a muffled, “Mmmph!”
I catch the winged gremlin mid-air and wrap it gently in the blanket until it stops flapping.
Aspen stares at me like I’ve just wrestled Lucifer.
