Possess Me Under The Mistletoe Page 6

  Cyra’s head shot up, as did Gunn’s, their eyes locked on the green vine with wide leaves and clumps of white berries sitting in the crevice where the ceiling met the wall. Ten inches of mistletoe dangled directly above Nora’s head.

  Okay, she hadn’t seen that before, and to say the situation was strange was an exaggeration.

  Cyra followed the greenery that crossed the bathroom entrance and appeared to have originated from the front part of the house. Henry squirmed free from her hold, moving around Gunn, and swept to his wife’s side, taking her into his arms.

  Nora giggled when he leaned her into a slight backbend, kissing her with a passion Cyra had only seen in those dramatic old black and white movies. Sweet and intense. But the awkward situation heated Cyra’s cheeks as she felt like she was watching her grandparents kiss.

  A sudden loud slam of the front door resonated as if thunder had clapped directly above the home.

  Cyra flinched and dashed toward the front part of the house to find the door shut. Was it the demon? Except her gaze lifted to three more tentacles of mistletoe wriggling inside through a tiny gap between the door and frame, fanning across the ceiling.

  “What the hell is that?” she croaked, unsure what she was looking at.

  Gunn shook his head, watching the extending vines. Then, all at once, dimness fell over the hallway. The sunlight from the windows faded, and darkness filled the void. The crackling fireplace threw orange hues and shadows across the dimming rooms.

  Her breaths raced and her head hurt trying to make sense of the situation. She burst into the main living room, to find hundreds of mistletoe vines crowding across the windows from outside.

  Her heart slammed against the back of her throat because she had zero idea what was going on, so she darted to the front door again and yanked it open.

  A wall of mistletoe blocked the doorway, each vine threading around the next, like a pit of snakes crawling over one another. The last gaps of sunlight vanished.

  Cyra’s feet cemented on the spot. She couldn’t comprehend what was happening, let alone find words.

  A slight tingle of energy rippled down her arms. Magic. She’d never seen a demon cast enchantment, so that meant one thing. Had she made a mistake with her earlier amplifying spell? Dread rocked her on her heels.

  Gunn brushed past her, blade in hand. He slashed at the plants blocking their exit, but each cut was replaced by more.

  “It’s not going to work,” she called out, wrapping her arms around her stomach, bile rising to the back of her throat.

  She eyed the threads of mistletoe slithering along the ceiling, then she sprinted into the kitchen and carried back a chair. Gunn climbed up and cut the vines as he balanced on the seat. The plants he cut curled back outside the front door.

  Cyra darted to the door and slammed it shut.

  He hopped down, stuffing the knife into its sheath on his belt, and ran from one room to the next, checking the windows. His boots thumped the tiled floor as his breaths labored. She found Henry and his wife, no longer kissing, standing near the staircase in a daze.

  And while Cyra wanted to stop and ask them if they were okay, she couldn’t find her voice. Instead, she switched on the light in the kitchen and grabbed the bowl with the contents from her spell. Her hands trembled as she peered inside, using her finger to move the wet contents about.

  “What is that?” She pinched a black string-like object wrapped around the pinecone and pulled it out. It had tiny leaves and berries… charred black. Mistletoe? How had that gotten in there?

  Ice clasped around her chest, because getting the slightest thing wrong in a spell could turn the simplest intention into apocalyptic disasters. She glanced out the kitchen window at the greenery blocking out any light. God, what had she done?

  Gunn rushed into the room, gasping for air. “We’re literally prisoners in this house. Everything is blocked. What’s going on?”

  Coldness filled Cyra. “When you ripped the pinecone off the wreath, you must have picked up some mistletoe.” She tossed the pinecone back into the bowl on the counter.

  “And? You’re the spell caster. Why’d you put it into the concoction?” He folded his arms across his chest, and she couldn’t believe he’d just blamed this on her.

  “This is your fault for distracting me with your stupid words about me not being a good enough witch.” But deep inside, her head screamed that this was her fault. She was the spell creator and being cautious came with the gig. The mistake was hers for not paying attention and for letting herself get distracted. Add the heated moment in the bathroom, and she’d doubly screwed up. If she had guarded Henry and Nora, stayed with them, she might have noticed the mistletoe taking over the house and gotten everyone out before it was too late. Instead, the mistletoe must have fogged her thoughts and turned her all horny.

  Gunn cracked his neck. “Then do a counter-hex.”

  His words irked her and, for the first time, she was seeing the real Gunn, the guy who spoke as if they were in a military foot drill and someone had appointed him sergeant. “Are you always so arrogant?” she asked.

  “I’ve been called many things before, but that’s new.”

  She forced a laugh, all for show. “Well, you are the epitome of rudeness, coming in here, bossing everyone around. And patronizing me.” She was trembling with anger at herself that she got this so wrong. The same fear and anger flared over Gunn’s face. They were so royally fucked.

  A sly grin crawled across his lips, and Cyra anticipated his rude comeback, remembering her brother had once told her how Gunn had ripped into a gang leader for peddling drugs on his street corner. Apparently, no punches were used, just words, but the gangster had peed his pants. Now, whether that was true or an inflation of egos, which seemed a necessity to be a demon hunter at Argos, she didn’t care. She’d give as good as he gave.

  Gunn studied her and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, slouching on one leg. Right there. He might appear like the perfect god-like specimen with his pose, muscles, and chiseled jawline. But he was the devil in disguise, and she had to remember that. There was a reason her brother had warned her to stay away from the hunters. None of them wanted to settle, and Gunn had a broken past after losing a girlfriend to a demon, and that had changed him. Or so Chase had said.

  “Listen,” he said. “Let’s pick up this conversation later. Right now, all I care about is getting you and the old couple out of the house and keeping you all safe. Then, we can duel it out as to who’s the most arrogant. Deal?”

  His words surprised her, and well, as much as she hated to admit it, she was going to take a page out of Gunn’s book and just focus on the damn problem at hand.

  Gunn headed across the room and picked up the phone fixed on the wall. “Dead, of course.” He checked his cell, sighing. “No reception.”

  She looked at her phone, to be sure there was no signal, and sighed. Nothing. The lights worked, but for how long?

  She crossed the room just as Gunn passed her. But he halted inches from her, and every thought turned to mush. Their argument melted into a faint memory. His musky scent ravaged her, drawing her to him. Even her knees betrayed her as they shook. The sudden intensity was new… so much that it slightly terrified her.

  Silence overwhelmed the kitchen and only her pounding pulse drummed in her ears. Fire consumed every part of her, and she squeezed her thighs together to heighten the growing pleasure. Her brain threatened to shut down, but her body had other ideas. She and Gunn locked eyes, and fire shot through her veins. The desire to have Gunn in every possible way owned her so fast, she stumbled on her feet. She didn’t understand her powerful reaction, but walking away felt impossible. The more she tried, the harder it became to remember why she should push him away.

  He snapped an arm around her waist and hitched her against him, their bodies colliding. She lost her breath. He ran the back of his fingers down her cheek, the metal of his ring cold against her skin. �
�From the first time I saw you, I’ve wanted you.”

  “Shit, Gunn!” That small admission had the inferno diving south with such ferocity, she gasped, gaining herself a wink from him. It wasn’t helping in the slightest that she’d already slid her hand beneath his T-shirt, across solid abs, her fingertips finding his line of soft hair. She couldn’t stop. Her sights were set on Gunn. They wanted each other. Simple. The attraction was explosive and combustible.

  “You make me crazy and excited.” She ought to blush from her admission, but if she got any hotter, she’d burn.

  Without a response, Gunn crushed her mouth with his. He grabbed her hips, his erection rock hard against her lower stomach. With his tongue deep in her mouth, she moaned, loving when he took her, towered over her. She’d never admit it out loud, but in his presence, she wanted to be his kitten.

  The pressure between her legs coiled, pleasure surging through her. “Make me yours,” she begged in a whispered plea.

  A grunt tore out of him as he swiveled her around, her back pressed against his chest. They both stood in the middle of the kitchen, facing the barricaded window. His hand slid down her waist, dipped across her pelvis and cupped the curve of her sex, stealing her breath.

  Desperation clouded her thoughts.

  “Do you know what you’re asking?” His voice strained as his fingers stroked her through her pants, fueling the growing inferno devouring her. He nibbled on her earlobe, his breath hot and heavy on her cheek.

  But a sudden throat clearing from behind them froze them both in place.

  Gunn tightened his arms around her, but she pulled free. Within the span of a few steps, the earlier flame burning in her libido fizzled as if someone had drenched her with a bucket of icy water. She staggered to a halt and looked around her. What was going on? She turned to find Nora entering the kitchen. They didn’t react at first, and she couldn’t help but wonder how red her cheeks had turned.

  “How are you feeling?” Cyra asked and crossed the kitchen toward her.

  “Please pull yourselves together,” Nora said. “We’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” She disappeared around the corner, though she wasn’t one who had the right to act snooty, considering earlier she was draping herself all over the wall.

  Gunn still wore a crazed, amorous look in his eyes.

  She lifted her gaze to the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling directly above him.

  “Hell!” Her earlier excitement drowned. Not only were they stuck in the house, but, apparently, the mistletoe had lust-inducing magic. Because things weren’t crazy enough?

  A reversal spell was a must and fast or they’d end up getting possessed while having sex, because it seemed resisting Gunn was an impossibility in this house.

  Chapter 7

  Gunn

  The fog in Gunn’s brain tugged him in every direction. His attraction to Cyra had intensified to the point where he was ready to throw her over the table and take her. He wasn’t thinking straight with the mistletoe messing up his head and the danger of a demon in the house. Not focusing was how mistakes were made… guilt-ridden mistakes that lasted a lifetime.

  A year ago, he’d cornered a possessed man, only to discover he’d been taken over by two demons. Gunn had underestimated the situation, ended up with two broken ribs, and been unable to walk for a month. But what had saved his skin from death was his ability to react fast to the situation. How was he supposed to do that now when he kept turning into a horny bastard?

  For weeks, he’d kept his distance from Cyra, told himself she wasn’t his, she could never be his, because if he’d lost Cherri-Anne to a demon, then could he really protect Cyra? But since their first kiss, he was fighting a losing battle. She was everything to him. A second chance.

  He tensed at how foolish he sounded. Except his past had changed his life. He’d cut ties with all friends outside of Argos, and focused on destroying demons. Happy endings didn’t happen to people who got their loved ones killed. For that, Gunn deserved to burn in Hell.

  “It’s the mistletoe.” Cyra’s soft voice broke through his thoughts.

  He glanced up and found a green strand dangling just above his head. The second he moved out from under it, his brain sharpened. But beneath the surface of his mind, his intensity for Cyra remained. Despite the magic imprisoning this house, the overpowering attraction he carried for Cyra choked him. He reached for the mistletoe and wrenched it off the ceiling, ripping it free of the tiny gap it had crawled through in the windowsill.

  Cyra pointed to her spell bowl on the counter, filled with burned rubbish. “I think the mistletoe twisted the spell. So when two people stand close, they’re drawn to each other. The plant is an aphrodisiac, and when used in enchantments, it brings out people’s true intentions.”

  Despite their situation, he couldn’t help but smirk at Cyra’s explanation. “So you’re into me.” Hell, shake it off, stick to the game plan.

  Cyra cocked an eyebrow. “It works both ways.”

  “Baby girl, I’ve never denied my attraction to you, just never acted on it.”

  Her gaze narrowed as if deciding if his words carried a double meaning, which they didn’t. He said it as it was, though, in all honesty, his simple confession would probably lead to more questions. She seemed the type of girl to prod until she unraveled the mysteries of the universe.

  “Why didn’t you act on it?” she asked, chewing on her lower lip.

  And there it was, her question delivered with a dollop of vulnerability. This wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss at the best of times, let alone now. Still, she studied him, waiting, and those earlier recollections of them in the bathroom swamped him.

  Chase had once called him broken, and maybe he’d been right. And Cyra wasn’t a woman he’d enjoy for a single night, but someone he’d want to take his time with.

  “You’re too good for me,” he admitted and he meant every word.

  She tilted her head, studying him. “Bullshit!”

  Okay, he hadn’t expected that. He ran a hand across his mouth, ready to change the topic. This wasn’t the place or time to talk about feelings or anything that reminded him of his failures, his mistakes, his regrets.

  “Listen, I—”

  But a deathly hiss screeched through the house, stealing his words. Every muscle stiffened as he turned toward the hallway. A goose emerged from within the shadows, easily reaching his thighs. It stood erect, wings spread, hissing like a goddamn cobra.

  Gunn rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing right? Had it gotten into the house when the door had been open? Except something was wrong with the animal. Its cloudy, dark eyes locked on Gunn, and its neck had a kink the size of his fist. But how was it alive when half its feathers were plucked, revealing prickly yellow skin? Was this a joke?

  “It’s the dead goose,” Cyra declared, recoiling, and her reaction raised the hairs on his nape.

  “What dead goose?” He reached for the lasso on his belt just as the bird charged him.

  Gunn retreated deeper into the kitchen as he clicked open his weapon.

  He flung an arm over his head for protection at the same second the goose slammed into his chest. Air emptied from his lungs and he crashed into a chair, bringing it down with him. No bird could be that powerful. The fucker definitely had supernatural strength.

  The bird pecked across his arm and brow, pinching his skin as it fluttered in his face.

  With a backhand, he shoved it aside and scrambled to his feet.

  It honked and struck again.

  This time Gunn tossed the loop of his weapon, catching it on an outstretched wing midflight, and tugged it backward.

  The bird twisted around and rushed toward him.

  Talons tore at his forearm. The lasso’s handle slipped out of his grasp and fell off the bird. He backed away, shoving against the wings flapping him in the face. He was going to barbecue this thing.

  As it flew at him once more, he ducked. It landed on the floor behind him,
and he whirled around.

  Cyra darted past him, holding an oversized metal spoon over her head. She swung at the goose, but it hissed and scrambled out between her legs. He threw himself after it, his fingers touching the feathers as it slipped away and across the room.

  “What does it want?” Cyra blurted.

  “My blood!”

  Footfalls sounded down the corridor, and he yelled out, “Henry, Nora, whatever you do, don’t come in the kitchen!”

  The goose lowered its long neck and charged him once again. This time, Cyra sprung up onto the counter, and Gunn threw himself across the table, bringing down two chairs as he landed.

  “Hold it still,” Cyra called out, crouching on the counter.

  “Easier said than done.”

  A dark shadow buzzed over him, and a razor-sharp beak pinched his neck. “Shit!” He whacked it in the head. As it dropped, he seized its scrawny neck. Writhing in his hand, the possessed animal bucked and hissed, loosening from his hold.

  He scanned the room, needing a holding spot. The pantry or under the sink?

  A blade-like stab pierced the flesh between his thumb and index finger, the pain was torture, hitting his nerves. He bellowed and darted to the closest thing—the fridge. Cyra was there, opening the door, and he tossed the bird inside. He slammed it shut and jammed his back against the door. “Fucking son of a bitch.” His breaths raced and every inch of him ached, but nothing compared to the bite between his thumb and finger. Utter hell!

  The refrigerator thumped behind him, shaking on its feet.

  Cyra’s breaths labored. “Should have shoved it in the freezer.”

  “Get my lasso.” He gasped for air because this was a first for him. He’d fought a hellhound and barely survived, even a possessed marionette doll, but never a goose. Now that he had two seconds to think, he was convinced whatever had flown out of the attic after he’d rescued Cyra now possessed the bird. On the bright side, a speck demon couldn’t leave the goose and attach itself to anything else, as those leeches tended to get trapped inside the object they took over.