Page 41 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
I carry it to the door, set it free, and watch it flap dramatically into the night.
Aspen sags to the floor, clutching her chest. “Is yourentire lifea survival video?”
“Sometimes.”
“That was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I smirk. “That was a Tuesday.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re lucky I don’t charge for pest control,” I tell her.
She flips me off. “You’re lucky I don’t sue for emotional trauma.”
“You’re lucky you still have a pulse.”
She glares. “You’re lucky your abs have pumpkins now, because I’m telling everyone you begged me for it.”
“You’re lucky you’re still breathing.”
“That’s a threat.”
“No,” I say, stepping close again, voice like a promise. “That’s a reminder.”
She rises to her feet, stubborn as hell. “Of what?”
“That I haven’t even started yet.”
We stare each other down.
She licks her lips—slow, nervous.
“You didn’t answer,” she whispers. “What are you going to do when you finally do touch me?”
I step close enough to feel her tremble. My voice burns low.
“Everything.”
She shivers.
And I don’t kiss her.
Not yet.
Because she asked for truth—and I gave it.
Next comes consequence.
And that—God help us both—is going to change everything.
Chapter 9
Aspen
The storm hasn’t let up in hours.
It howls like a living thing outside the windows of Devil’s Peak Lodge, clawing at the walls, shaking loose a gutter every so often in a way that makes me flinch and curse under my breath. Wind keeps trying to peel the roof off while snow piles higher against the door.
The power’s still out. The generator’s still dead. So I’ve spread candles across the room like some séance-loving vampire queen. And yes, I did light the pumpkin spice one. It’s a coping mechanism. So is the blanket I’m wrapped in. And the fact that I’m currently reading ghost stories out loud—to myself.
