by Jasmine Walt
He likes me for me, and as lame as it sounds, I’ve never had this before. Not with friendships. Not with relationships. The bond I have with Thomas borders both: he’s my friend as much as he is my lover, and I never feel like I have to hide anything from him.
Thomas runs his fingers up and down my back, starting off innocently enough. Then he inches my shirt up, deft fingers finding the clasp on my bra, and undoes it with one hand. He pulls me onto him, and I straddle his waist, feeling his already hard cock press against me. I raise my hands over my head, letting him strip me. He cups my breasts in his hands, bending his knees so his cock rubs against me.
“You are powerful, Ace,” he growls, running his hands from my breasts to my shoulders and bringing me down so he can kiss me. “And it’s fucking sexy.” In a swift movement, he flips us over, and with him now on top, he kisses his way down my neck, over my abdomen, stopping only to remove my pants.
Still reeling from the spell, the same desperation fuels us both. I want to feel him inside me, fucking me into oblivion so I don’t have to think about anything else other than how good his cock feels. And he wants the same.
I’m naked in front of him, and he moves away only to remove his own clothing. He dives down between my legs, not wasting a single second. His tongue, wet and warm, lashes against me, trailing up my pussy and flicking my clit.
I moan when he sucks me, working his tongue with impressive speed. Tipping my head up, I watch him eat me out, getting hotter from the sight of his head between my legs. The fervor between us is always strong, just like it is with Hasan and Gilbert too. But having gone through something together, something fucked up and, in all honesty, something scary, bonds us closer at the moment.
Neither of us want to forget, but we don’t want to think about it right now either. Thomas is doing a damn good job making sure the only thing I can think about is how close I am to coming, how good his tongue feels as it licks my pussy. He lashes his tongue out again, groaning as he laps up every drop of wetness I give him.
Something about doing magic turned me on too, making the orgasm come on strong and fast. Thomas plunges a finger inside me right before I come, stroking my G-spot and feeling my pussy tighten as I come. As soon as the orgasm is over, he moves away, going to the side of the bed and guiding me down so my head is hanging over the edge.
With his cock in his hand he steps up, stroking the long, thick shaft. I reach out above my head, one hand landing on his ass, and pull him to me, welcoming his cock into my mouth. He leans forward, supporting himself with one hand, and rubs my clit with the other, not stopping until I’m coming again.
He’s getting close too and begrudgingly pulls his hips away, not wanting me to stop sucking his dick but wanting to finish inside me. I squeeze his ass, giving him one final hard suck before he steps back, and push myself back down on the mattress.
On the bed in a second flat, I bend my knees up and grab his cock, guiding it to my entrance. Propping himself up on his elbows, he spreads his wings above me and pushes his cock deep inside, groaning with pleasure.
“Fuck me hard,” I pant, and those three words are all it takes for Thomas to go animalistic, thrusting in and out hard and fast. My head hits the headboard behind me, but we don’t stop.
I grab Thomas’s ass, digging my nails into his flesh, lifting my hips so he hits me at just the right angle. I know he’s close to coming, and I know he’ll wait until I come again. He bends his head down, lips finding the sweet spot on my neck, and tingles shoot through me. My pussy contracts around his dick, and he grunts, burying his cock as deep inside me as he can. We climax at the same time, both panting, hearts racing together.
Thomas pulls out and lies next to me, wrapping me in his arms. I snuggle closer, eyes falling shut. Performing magic and then having mind-blowing sex suddenly catches up to me, and exhaustion crashes down on me. We lie there together for a few minutes, neither of us wanting to move.
Then Thomas gets up and starts the shower, knowing the water needs a good few minutes to warm up. He takes my hands and helps me to my feet, and gets in the shower with me, washing my hair and massaging my shoulders.
“You spoil me,” I tell him, turning around and hooking my arms over his shoulders. Water cascades down his wings, and if it weren’t for the glass door instead of a curtain, we’d have a water mess on the floor every time we showered together.
“I like spoiling you.” He moves my hair back, rinsing out the conditioner. “Even when I was a knight, I never felt like I had a purpose. But with you, I do. I care about you, Ace, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”
His arms fasten around me, and I feel him tense ever so slightly. I don’t see the vulnerable side of Thomas very often, as he masks his emotions with jokes and a cocky attitude.
“I care about you too, Thomas,” I say, blinking water out of my eyes, and smile at him. “I remember the first night I saw you guys. I was so scared.”
“And here you are, naked in the shower with me.”
I laugh. “We’ve come a long way.”
“We have. And as shitty as this curse is…I’m glad I woke up to you.” There are a million jokes he can make right now, but he brings his head down, resting his forehead against mine. I close my eyes to keep water from splashing in them, and let out a breath, surrendering to him. I’m completely vulnerable, but I trust him completely, just like I trust the others.
“I think I love you, Ace,” he whispers, and my heart skips a beat. No one has ever told me they loved me before. I hold onto him tighter, needing to feel every inch of him I can against me.
I’ve craved love, longed to be in a relationship with someone I can trust, someone I can be myself around. And now I finally am, but it’s not just with one person. And I love them all.
“I love you, too.”
He turns his head down and kisses me, and I start to get turned on all over again. The water doesn’t stay warm for long in this old house, so we get out before it turns cold.
After getting dressed in my PJs, I brush my teeth and climb into bed. Thomas gets in with me, holding me in his arms until I fall asleep, which happens in minutes.
I’m sound asleep when my phone rings. I left it downstairs, and the echo of my ringtone isn’t enough to wake me.
“Ace.” Jacques’s voice comes from the doorway. I sit up, blinking to adjust my eyes. It’s four-thirty a.m., the start of nautical twilight but not quite sunrise yet.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Your phone was ringing. I assume it’s work.”
“Oh, right.”
Jacques crosses the room and hands me the phone.
“Yep. That was work.” I call back, and the phone is answered right away.
“Detective Bisset,” the officer says. “Time to rise and shine. There’s been another murder.”
10
I duck under yellow police tape, holding up my badge for the young officer to see. He nods and moves aside, letting me into the crime scene. I step into a small coffee shop, and despite the metallic smell of blood and death around me, the scent of coffee lingers in the air and, dammit, it’s making me want a coffee. I could really use some caffeine right now.
Like the scene surrounding Lily at the church, a pentagram is smeared on the wall behind the counter in blood. The Eye of Horus and Hecate’s Wheel are next to it, but the killer ran out of room and the wheel is crammed in. The scene doesn’t have the same theatrics as the first murder, making me think the killer got interrupted or panicked and left before he was finished.
A hasty murder often leaves behind good, hard evidence. The body is on the counter, blood dripping down from the victim’s smashed-in skull. Like Lily, he has defensive wounds, and the place is trashed. This guy put up a fight before he was killed.
We comb through the place, finding the initial fight to have broken out in the back. The body was dragged to the rear door, which requires a code to open. So the killer wanted to take the body out…was
he going back to the church? Or planning to find another?
Once he realized he couldn’t get the body out back, the killer dragged the victim to the front and struggled to get him onto the counter. There are blood smears and probably a gold mine of fingerprints around here. Like Lily, this guy was posed, with his hands crossed over his chest. Unlike Lily, his head falls to the side, and one leg is hanging off the counter, furthering my belief that the killer didn’t intend to have the body discovered here.
He might not have meant to kill him here either. I look at the body, taking in how young this guy is. Lily was young too. I want to find the killer. Now. All right, asshole…where were you going to take him?
Tiffany shows up and looks around at the symbols drawn on the wall as she gets her camera out of the bag.
“Holy shit,” she mutters under her breath. She attaches a lens to her camera and walks over by the body, looking at me and then the symbols behind us. “Please tell me this isn’t some sort of sacrifice.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “But that’s exactly what the killer wants it to look like.”
“Why?”
“I’ll find out.”
She brings her camera to her face. “You will.”
I go around the scene again, directing the CSU, and go back to the symbols written on the wall in blood. The way a pentagram is drawn can change the meaning of it. Starting it from the bottom left is associated with the element earth. This pentagram was started at the top and wasn’t drawn in a continuous line.
Hello, mistake number one.
Once Tiffany takes pictures of the body, I put on clean gloves and carefully uncross his arms. He’s wearing a watch, and there’s a bloody fingerprint on the large face.
And hello to you too, mistake number two.
Turning away from the body, I see the manager who found the body sitting in the corner farthest from the counter, tears running down her face. She’s pale, looking like she’s going to puke and then pass out.
“Hi, Betty,” I start, sitting down across from her. “I’m Detective Bisset. Is it all right if I ask you a few questions?”
“Yeah,” she says and rapidly nods.
“Let’s get started with the basics. Why were you here this morning?”
“I opened the store.”
“It was pretty early.”
“I needed to do inventory and make a new schedule. It takes about an hour and a half to do both.”
“Were you here yesterday?”
She nods again. “I opened in the morning and left around three-thirty.”
“Was Josh here when you left?”
“Yeah. He started at three.”
“When was he supposed to work until?”
“Close. Which is ten-ish. I say ‘ish’ because we close a little early if we’re slow and stay open a little later if we still have customers.”
“Was he by himself?”
“He wasn’t supposed to be.”
“Who else was working?”
Betty blinks and more tears run down her face. “I…I don’t remember. I can’t think right now.”
“It’s okay. Do you have a schedule or a way to check who clocked in and out?”
“Yeah, I do.” She wipes away her tears and gets her phone, hands shaking, and opens an app. “Rachel Jameson worked with him. She clocked out at ten-seventeen. And he never…he…” She breaks down, and I take the phone from her, writing down names.
“Do you have Rachel’s number in here?”
Betty moves her head up and down and brings up her contact list. Using my own phone, I call Rachel. The call goes to voicemail.
“Oh my god, you don’t think she—”
“I don’t make assumptions. Is the address listed for Rachel up to date?”
“As far as I know it is.” I write down Rachel’s name and address, then get an officer to go to her house and make sure she’s okay. I need to question her if she is.
“How long has Josh worked here?” I ask Betty, sitting down across from her again.
“A couple of months.”
“Has he ever given you any trouble?”
“No.” She takes a minute to collect herself and go on. “He was a great kid. Hard worker and everyone liked him. We always said he could make anyone laugh.”
“You’re his boss, but did he ever say anything about his personal life?”
“Yeah, he did. We’re all pretty close here. He talked about his friends and his girlfriend. But he never said anything concerning.”
Neither had Lily.
I sit heavily at my desk and reach for my coffee. It’s cold, but I still swallow a mouthful down. I just got done briefing my team on the cases, and my frustration is growing. The killer is the same, which I was sure of before the partial prints we got from Lily’s crime scene matched the print on Josh’s watch.
But how he’s choosing his victims…I can’t see any connection. Not yet. I pick up my pen and tap it against my desk and close my eyes, thinking. The image of the ghost from outside the bloody basement flashes before me and the same whispering voices echo in the back of my mind.
Dammit. I need to concentrate. We have two young victims here, and are dealing with a serial killer. The FBI will jump all over this case if it gets media attention, and I’m not losing it.
The end of the day is nearing, but I don’t think I’ll be home by sunset. I spoke with Josh’s family already and still need to question his girlfriend. Rubbing my forehead, I pull out my phone and text Jacques. Once they wake up and realize I’m not home, he’ll check the phone.
Pushing thoughts about the ghost aside, I focus back on my case. Only a few days passed between Lily’s murder and Josh’s. The killer could already have his sights set on his newest victim.
But how the fuck is he choosing people? The setups at the crime scenes make me feel like it’s not random. Lily was a quiet girl who lived in the city her whole life. She was attending a local community college, and from what I could gather today, no one in her friend circle had even heard of Josh, who was outspoken and loud.
Two years older than Lily, he was back in town after wanting a break from college because he couldn’t pick a major. His mother told me he intended on going back in the fall to study psychology.
I spend a good hour filling out paperwork and discussing the case further with a blood splatter analyst, who confirms the direction the pentagram was smeared onto the wall. A dull headache is forming by the time I finally leave, and I get into my car with my mind swimming in thoughts about murder. There’s something obvious I’m missing, and I can’t put my finger on it.
The sun has already set, and Jacques texted me back to let me know they were all inside away from prying eyes. Starting the car and opening the windows to let in fresh air, I call Jacques. He answers but doesn’t say hello.
“Jac? Are you there?”
“I am in the house,” he replies. “Acelina?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m headed home. Is everything still good over there?”
“Yes.” Pots and pans clank in the background.
“Are you cooking?”
“I’m attempting to make dinner.”
I smile, remembering him telling me how he wanted to help me more. Knowing how much he cares about me loosens the knot in my chest. “Thank you. I can try breaking—weakening—the curse again tonight.”
“Only if you feel up to it,” he says, and I’m able to sense his hesitation. His concern is endearing though foreign. I can’t blame him, or any of the guys, for worrying about me. I worry about them too. “Though you should get more sage if you do.”
“Oh, right. Mine burned up. I can swing by a place and pick some up. See you guys soon.”
Hanging up, I put my car in drive and head to Lyra’s Magic Shoppe.
The wind chimes ding when I open the door, but Lyra isn’t at the counter. Hopefully, I can make it in, grab my shit, and pay before she has a chance to talk to me. The store is messy, unlik
e the first time I was in here. Boxes are haphazardly strewn about, and the display of herbs I need to sort through to find the sage is discarded on the floor, looking as if someone started putting inventory away and stopped halfway through.
I pause and look around, hear someone shuffle around in the back. This place wasn’t robbed, but something isn’t right. It’s not my problem. I need to grab the sage and get out so I can work on breaking the curse. And getting naked with one of the guys doesn’t sound too bad either. I’ll welcome any distraction.
It takes me a minute to sort through the box of herbs, and once I finally locate the sage smudge sticks, I grab three and go to the counter. A minute passes before Lyra comes out, wiping her eyes. Dammit. I should say something comforting, or at the very least ask if she’s okay.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“A friend died this morning.” She takes the sage sticks and rings them up.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I saw it in the cards,” she goes on, reminding me why I don’t ask people what’s wrong. They open up and spill their guts. “I saw the warning but didn’t think…In the deck, death can represent the end of a phase, not actually death. And Josh…” She stops, turning away and wiping her eyes.
“Josh?” I blurt, thinking there’s just no way. “Josh Pickett?”
“Yes, you knew him?”
Trading my wallet for my badge, I show it to Lyra. “I’m going to have to ask you a few questions.”
She blinks a few times, mouth falling open in shock.
“Okay.” She stares at me for another second, almost looking nervous. Then she sniffles, finishes ringing me up, and hands me the bag. “Do I need a lawyer?”
“Are you guilty of anything?”
She shakes her head. She might scam people with her tarot readings, but I don’t get a feeling she’s a murderer. Not at all. “What was the nature of your friendship with Josh?”