Page 23 of The Spirit Key
A few more shallow thrusts and Tim moaned. I tightened my ass as much as I could, wanting to make it especially good for him. When he came, his O-face was incredible. I could see nothing but love in it, and it was that look that made me follow him over the edge.
After he disposed of the condom and got a towel to wipe us both down, I got up, uncertain what I should do. He held out an arm to me.
“Where are you going?”
“I thought….” Man, it shouldn’t have been so hard to say what I wanted.
“Stay with me? I don’t want us separated again.”
I crawled back into the bed and smiled when he snuggled up against me.
He flicked off the light and wrapped an arm around me. “Love you, Scotty.”
“Love you too.”
Looking back, that was the exact moment I felt a connection beyond friends with Tim. And, of course, that was the moment everything went to hell.
Chapter Six
WE WERElying in bed, Tim’s arm wrapped protectively around me, and everything was great. I mean, nothing in the world could be more perfect than this moment. It was all I’d ever wanted in my life. Well, that and not to see ghosts anymore.
Do you see where this is going?
Tim leaned in, kissed me on the neck, then hissed.
“What’s wrong?”
He groaned and rolled onto his back, rubbing his hand over his chest. “Fuck, it hurts….”
No! Oh, hell no. He wasnothaving a heart attack. Not when we’d finally found each other. Could life be that unfair after all the shit it heaped on me?
Yeah, if only it could have been as simple as a heart attack.
I scrambled for my phone, ready to call 911, when a hand burst out of Tim’s chest and gripped my throat, constricting, cutting off my air. I gasped, clawing, trying to get it to release. Tim’s face went white. He lurched out of bed and grabbed my shoulders, shouting, but the blood pounding in my ears cut off what he was saying. My vision tunneled, everything going black. The last thing I remember seeing was Tim kneeling over me, his beautiful eyes awash with tears.
There was no breath left in me. I floated outside, witnessing the last moments of my life. Crystal-blue eyes bulged, and hands gripped the wrists of the bastard who was leaning over me, a gleeful expression on his face as life ebbed away. It was then that I realized it wasn’t me he was choking. It was a boy, maybe fifteen. Tears streamed from his eyes, his struggles growing weaker, his breath ragged as he tried to break free. The man above him laughed, ugly and cold, at the impotent struggle. When the boy’s choking ceased and he went limp, the man smiled. A moment later, he turned the boy loose, allowing the lifeless body to sink beneath the water of the bathtub. It was horrifying to see.
Then the… man… thing stood and turned to me. It was no longer remotely human. His eyes were dark as night, and when he smiled, all I could see was a black maw that terrified me to my very depths. He reached for me, and I scrambled back, trying to find a way to escape. When I ran out of room to retreat, he was on me. He stretched an arm out and touched my face with an ice-cold finger.
The darkness that surrounded him receded, and for the first time, I was able to see him clearly. He was probably in his forties, with a slight paunch, receding hairline, and green eyes. When I looked closer, I saw nothing but death in his gaze, and it scared the shit out of me.
“Of all the ones I killed, he was my favorite. I was attracted by his blond hair and those piercing blue eyes. I found him wandering the streets, nowhere to go, no family to love him. I offered him a home, friendship, safety. And then one night, while he was relaxing in the bathtub, I walked in, and when he turned and smiled at me, I knew the time had come. He was confused when I bent over and wrapped my hands around his throat, but he wasn’t afraid. Yet. That came when I squeezed. The look in his eyes, the pain, the betrayal—it was sweet, and in his death, I was started on a new path in life. I thought the killing was the headiest thing, but I was wrong. I never realized that earning their trust, then tearing it away could be like that. I felt strong, powerful. Instead of just killing them, now I wanted them to know utter despair. I took in children from the streets and gave them hope, and then I took it from them, along with their lives.
“Now this one is mine and you’ll not have him. It has taken me years to get him where I need him, and if you interfere, I will force him to kill you.”
A sharp pain in my head yanked me away from him. I sat up, gasping for breath, to find Tim shaking me, screaming my name.
“What the fuck was that?” he cried out.
My throat was raw and raspy when I croaked, “I think we may be in trouble.”
He helped me to stand, then guided me to the kitchen, where he made us coffee. It burned when I swallowed, and I reached up to rub my throat.
“You have bruises.” Tim’s voice was oddly subdued, but he reached out and touched my neck. “They look like fingers.”
“Because they are! Somehow I… I don’t even know how to describe what just happened. I watched as he killed someone, but I have the marks.”
He didn’t reply, simply stared into his cup.
