Possess Me Under The Mistletoe Page 9

  Her gaze narrowed, and she spun away, but he couldn’t help himself and he seized her wrist. No denying she’d crawled under his skin, and he wanted nothing more than to promise her the world, make her laugh every second of the day. Kiss her endlessly. But he was kidding himself by even allowing such thoughts to enter his mind.

  For a long pause, neither said a word. The creepy song played, growing louder, yet his attention remained on Cyra. “We’ll get out of this,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it. Until then, we can’t let ourselves get carried away again.”

  She nodded but wasn’t pulling away, either. “When we were upstairs, I meant every word I said.” With that, she broke away and hurried toward the kitchen.

  Alone in the corridor with the chilling horror music as company, all he could think about was how was he going to eliminate a demon if he constantly had a hard-on. How his brain had stopped functioning. How the wrong move could end up in devastation. But, most of all, he wondered which words Cyra had referred to. The ones that kept circling in his skull were: “Be my first. My only.”

  Chapter 10

  Cyra

  Cyra marched into the kitchen, switched on the light, and placed her back against the pantry door. In Gunn’s presence, she lost her mind. He said things that left her gasping and trembling with arousal. Despite being stuck in a house that had her jumping at every sound, all she thought about was Gunn taking her again and again. His tongue on her, inside her. Her reaction might be amplified by the spell, just as the mistletoe brought out her feelings, forcing them to the surface, but those feelings were real.

  Her cheeks burned at her brazen words. She ought to concentrate on keeping Henry and Nora safe. Then why couldn’t she think straight? Her attraction toward Gunn had been there from the start. And while she’d never known the real him, the time she’d spent with him had revealed a man who wanted love but held back. While his forcefulness intimidated her, his protectiveness and tenderness touched something inside her.

  If they weren’t stuck in this cursed house, would he have ever made a move? Would she have? Probably not, as she’d concluded he wasn’t interested. But sitting around pondering wouldn’t get her anywhere, so she turned her attention to the counter-hex incantation. She searched the drawers and cupboards for enchantment ingredients. After hunting down a glass bowl, salt, and a white candle the length of her index finger, she whispered, “This has to work.”

  A jittery sensation slithered up her spine as if someone was watching her. She glanced over her shoulder. Nothing, but that didn’t mean she was alone. No area in this house felt safe.

  In a rush, she filled the bowl with tap water and poured a lot of salt into it, while her mind drifted to the demon upstairs. Why hadn’t it made another appearance?

  When speck demons attached to inanimate objects, the best way to eradicate them was to burn and bury them. She wasn’t sure Henry or Nora would appreciate seeing their home burned to a crisp, so that meant tracking down the object that held the beast and destroying it.

  With the items in hand, she moved into the hallway near the laundry room door for extra space. Time to try out the counter-hex. She prayed it would work. There was the small issue of burying the remnants in the soil to complete the magic, but she would try injecting extra mojo into the incantation and hopefully loosen the mistletoe’s hold on the home. It had to work.

  Cyra switched the lights on in the corridor, eliminating the darkness, and set the bowl on the floor. She cast a virtual sphere around herself in her mind’s eye that encompassed the area above her, below, and all around. “Air, guard the east and bring wisdom. Fire, guard the south and send protection. Water, guard the west and cast away all evil. Earth, guard the north and strengthen my magic.” Once complete, she kneeled down, sprinkled more salt into the water and inserted the base of the candle inside, the wick sitting inches above the surface. “This water is made pure. I give it the power to protect and cure.”

  Goosebumps coated her arms with an electric charge. In her head, she visualized the contents glowing with a bright light. She lit the candle with the lighter from her back pocket. “I take away the spell placed on this house. I undo what has been done.”

  The orange flame lengthened upward as if reaching for the heavens, releasing a wisp of smoke. Instead of a fiery smell, it gave off a stink of electricity. She closed her eyes, picturing the fiery power stretching out to every room and touching the mistletoe outside. In her mind, the vines retracted, withered, and shrunk away from the house. Falling into meditation, she continued her visualization, over and over. But when a low hiss sounded, she flipped open her eyes to find the wick had burned down to the level of the water, the blaze extinguished.

  Removing the candle, she said, “Return this home to its rightful way.” When she snapped the candle in half, a boom erupted around her, reminding her of explosive fireworks.

  A white charge sparked from the edges of her fingertips. She loved when that happened. It left her insides renewed and fresh, as if she’d just emerged from a chilled shower. She spared a quick glance at the window, but the mistletoe outside wasn’t shifting. Heaviness pressed down on her shoulders. Yep, she had to find soil.

  Movement from farther down the hall drew her attention.

  Gunn emerged from the living room, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans, his boots pounding the floorboards. His black, long-sleeve T-shirt clung to his broad chest, showing the layers of his muscles. Dark hair shone beneath the light in a shade of cocoa, and his stubble seemed darker against his tanned skin. With his full lips pressed together in an unsettled expression, she still pictured him kissing her, losing herself in his arms. God, she was completely lost. How could she have fallen for him so hard?

  She climbed to her feet and closed the circle by moving to each corner, thanking the elements.

  “What happens now?” he asked, standing a few feet away.

  “Now comes the tricky part.” She picked up the bowl of water with the candle and returned to the kitchen, placing them on the counter.

  When she turned, Gunn leaned against the frame, staring her way with those spectacular green eyes, reminding her of a tranquil river in a dark forest.

  Was he considering kissing her again? Yeah, she’d never had sex with anyone else because she hadn’t met a guy who she liked enough. Until now.

  “You going to just stand there checking me out, or are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked with a serious tone she didn’t quite understand. Was that sarcasm?

  She narrowed her eyes on purpose and turned away to hide the heat crawling up her neck. Universe, help me control myself in his company.

  To busy herself, she took the broken candle out of the bowl and poured the water down the drain. The enchantment now lay in the candle, and she placed it into the other bowl on the countertop with the spell contents. They needed to get buried together.

  Facing him again, she gasped, as he had his shirt pulled up over his eight pack. “What are you doing?”

  He lifted his head as he scratched his stomach. “Could swear something crawled under my shirt.”

  She moved closer and inspected his perfect, muscular chest, running a hand across his warm flesh. Soft, yet rock hard. Yep, this wasn’t helping her maintain control one bit. Not when her breath hitched, and she clenched her thighs from the inferno intensifying down there.

  “Seems you’re clean of creepy crawlies then.” Darn her choked voice. Breaking away from him, she stepped to the counter and leaned a hip into it, crossing her arms.

  Gunn lowered his top. Had he been lying about something crawling on him so he could flaunt himself and she’d fall like a fly to a zapper?

  A quick look at the bowl reminded her what she was doing. “Well, for me to complete this spell, I must bury the hex contents in the ground.”

  He rubbed his jawline, the sound reminding her of sandpaper. “Would a potted plant work?”

  “No idea, but have you seen one in the ho
use?” It was a possibility that she could use any soil to activate the reversal spell.

  “Nope. Only fresh flowers in a vase in the hallway.”

  “Then why suggest a potted plant?” She studied the two pieces of broken candle, their possible escape so close, yet so far.

  “Figured you might have seen one. The house is big enough.”

  Racking her brain, she didn’t recall seeing a plant anywhere. In her tiny studio apartment, tiny pots of herbs lined her windows. Back at the farm, she’d loved staring at the garden in full bloom.

  With Gunn not moving, she couldn’t stand in the kitchen for eternity gawking at him, as tempting at it sounded. She strode past him, figuring she might as well ask Nora if she had any potted plants, but when her elbow brushed against Gunn, he stepped into her path.

  “What are we going to do about us?” he asked while pushing aside a loose piece of hair that had caught on the corner of her mouth. His touch left her buzzing. How was she supposed to stay focused when the slightest touch stole her concentration?

  Seemed her libido didn’t give a hoot about the dangers of a demon in the house. “Nothing right now.”

  He frowned. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “I don’t know what you mean then. But you’re in my way.”

  He licked his lips. “I’m terrified of losing you.”

  His words took a while to sink in. “Why would you lose me?”

  “Baby girl, you’re too perfect for me, too innocent, and you have a whole life ahead of you. Me…” His hold slackened, and he dropped his hand by his side. “I don’t want you tainted by my past. Plus, your brother would chop off my balls.”

  A surge of anger shot through her. She’d had this conversation with Chase too many times. The time he’d told her she couldn’t have a motorbike because it was too dangerous. When she’d intended to travel overseas for a few months to study abroad, but he’d insisted she’d get kidnapped. Now every “no” she received was like gasoline in her veins, firing her up. “Fuck my brother and screw you. I’m sick of everyone making decisions for me, so don’t you dare stand there and tell me what’s good for me. I’m the only person who can do that.”

  Shadows danced beneath his gaze, and he paused for a long moment, as if calculating his exact words. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  She should have shut her mouth, should have walked away, should have closed the door to this tragedy, but she couldn’t. If she did, her chances with him would vanish forever. For weeks, he’d avoided her. He’d liked her, but fear had kept him away. What was he so afraid of?

  “I know enough,” she explained, controlling her shaky voice, swallowing past the mountain wedged in her throat. She blinked rapidly to stop the tears that threatened to escape, loathing where this conversation was headed. “I’ve heard about your past. You lost an innocent to a demon. Everyone knows. But it’s not your fault, and you can’t put your life on hold because of a mistake.”

  Paleness slid across his cheeks, and he gritted his teeth.

  Taking a breath seemed impossible as she waited for him to speak.

  “It wasn’t a mistake.” His voice climbed. “I sacrificed her to save myself. That’s what happened. So I’m a coward, a murderer. And not a day passes when I don’t think about what I did to Cherri-Anne.”

  Cyra lost her words, unable to connect the dots, yet dread sat quietly in her chest, leaving her smothered by an invisible hand. Chase had told her Gunn had gotten ambushed and an innocent had died. So what was Gunn talking about?

  “I d…don’t believe you.” She retreated until her back hit the counter, but he followed her, his shoulders rigid, his eyes wild.

  “When a demon captures a seasoned hunter, they get access to their memories, who all the demon hunters are, their families and friends. The demons then target them until they kill every single one. That’s why when a hunter gets possessed, Argos sends a priority alert to every hunter to find them and kill them if needed.” He paused and his breath hitched as he glanced at the window and back, his eyes glazed over.

  This was news to her, and it terrified her to think that hunters not only faced Hell but had a noose dangling over their heads if they slipped up. The protection tattoo everyone received at Argos was created with strong spells to stop possession. Did it not always work? Her heart pounded, and her pulse throbbed in her ears, drowning out Gunn’s words.

  She was scared for Gunn, for Chase, and for everyone else at Argos.

  “Cherri-Anne and I had been dating for six months,” he continued, his posture stiff and his words fast, as if stopping wasn’t an option. “She had no clue what I did for a job. When the fucker made me choose whose soul it would take, I refused to select at first.” His voice faltered and his clenched hands trembled. “I wanted to hand myself over, but that meant the demon would hunt down every Argos hunter I knew and all their families to make us pay for vanquishing their kind. Hundreds of people would die. When the demon laughed at how it would kill her slowly and then possess me, I made a choice. And I hate myself for it every second of the day.”

  A sickening fear strangled Cyra, her mind spinning at learning what Gunn had done. The rawness of his tragedy stabbed at her insides.

  “God!”

  Terror had her frozen in place as its icy daggers pierced her heart. Would she have surrendered herself to save one person, knowing so many others would perish? She never wanted to face such a choice because whatever decision she made, it would haunt her for eternity.

  “You’re not selfish or a coward, you know that, right?” Her words came out breathy.

  He shook his head. “If faced with that situation again, I can’t guarantee I’ll save you. I want you more than I’ve ever desired anyone, but I won’t put you in that position.”

  Without another word, he turned and vanished into the hall.

  Cyra’s legs wobbled at the onslaught Gunn had dumped on her. Fuck! How was she supposed to respond to hearing his defeated approach to life, and the tragedy that had indeed broken him?

  Chapter 11

  Gunn

  Conjuring images of calm blue skies and a tranquil lake didn’t reduce Gunn’s anxiety one fucking inch. So much for spending thousands on a therapist. Instead, he worked through his feelings old style—pacing back and forth, playing out the blackened memories inside his head.

  It had been two years since Cherri-Anne’s death, and still the memory sat like a tsunami on repeat in his mind, drowning him, killing him over and over. He’d vowed to never tell a soul, to let everyone believe he hadn’t been able to save her. Yeah, that made him a fucking coward. But he could barely live with himself, let alone see the judgement in everyone’s eyes. He’d fucked up, and those dark times would plague him into the afterlife.

  He ran a finger across several healed cuts along his neck from where he’d ridden his bike into a concrete wall on purpose. If Chase hadn’t tracked him down and found him bleeding to death, Gunn would be long gone. Was staying behind any better?

  “Choose,” the horned bastard had grunted to Gunn, licking its lips with a black tongue. It seized Cherri-Anne by the throat, lifting her off the ground.

  Desperation pushed Gunn forward and he charged, his fists clenched. But with a flick of the demon’s hand, an invisible force slammed into his chest. He gasped as his lungs emptied, and he hit the bedroom wall before crumbling. The shock ricocheted through his skull.

  “Cherri-Anne,” he called out. His mind started to fail, unable to formulate a plan when fear hammered into him, screaming that he’d fail.

  Her face turned blue, but she thrashed and punched for freedom, never giving up. That was his girl.

  The monster cackled. Gunn trembled, staggering to unsteady legs.

  Her fearful eyes stayed with Gunn. The sight choked the breath from his chest, and he admitted to himself he was scared to fail. Scared to lose her. Scared that everything happened too fast for him to get the upper hand and destroy the motherfucker. Swea
t dripped down his spine, yet he trembled as if he’d fallen into icy waters.

  A bony arm reached toward him, covered in dried mud, fingers clawed and tipped in blood. “Your life for hers.” A filthy smirk split its mouth, revealing fangs. It studied him with black eyes, playing a game. If it had known he was a hunter, the beast would have targeted him, but a demon never knew until it got inside your head.

  The demon had caught them off-guard the first day he and Cherri-Anne had arrived at the cabin they’d rented near a snow resort. He was useless without his weapons, which had been hidden in a suitcase in the other room so Cherri-Anne wouldn’t see them.

  No words formed in Gunn’s mind, no movement. The cold hard truth hammered into his skull—saving Cherri-Anne meant handing himself over, which he’d do in a heartbeat. Except, once the demon entered his head, it had full access to all the hunters he knew. And each one of them would be targeted and killed, along with their friends and families.

  For the greater good, his mind yelled, yet his heart locked on to Cherri-Anne. The woman he’d promised to protect. One person’s life for many. He couldn’t bring himself to speak at first, to condemn her.

  “Choose now, or I’ll rip her throat out and take your soul.”

  Gunn couldn’t move, but as Cherri-Anne’s life faded away, his voice came out, barely a whisper. “Take her.” Those two words were Cherri-Anne’s death sentence. And before he could change his mind, she and the demon had vanished into a darkened portal that closed behind them.

  Gone.

  Stolen.

  Alone.

  He choked up and relived that tragedy every day. Could he have handled the attack differently? He should have taken his weapons with him. Should have fought harder. Should have… except that last “should have” never formed, because, if faced with the decision again, he knew he’d make the same call.

  His insides trembled. The only saving grace that kept him going since the attack was knowing that while he still lived, he’d dedicate every single minute to abolishing the monsters. If that was his purpose in life, then, fuck yeah, he’d throw himself in one hundred percent, no matter the consequences.