Chapter 27
Brom
Kat stares at me from Snowdrop, the golden sun reflecting on her face and making her look like she did in the glen, like a goddess coming into her own power.
There’s apprehension in her eyes, but it’s been there all day, not that I can blame her.
She’s worried that I’m going to turn into the horseman once it gets dark, even though we will be back at the school by then.
She’s also worried about whatever Famke had told her in the kitchen, information she hasn’t had a chance to share with me yet.
And she’s also worried about where I’m leading her.
To the barn.
Because I want another chance to set things right.
Because for the last four years, all I’ve wanted with her was a chance to set things right.
She doesn’t say anything as we ride, and I’m not sure if this is her putting her trust in me or not, but I want that trust more than anything. Earlier she had said that she was my family, I just had to choose to believe it, but it’s hard to believe when someone doesn’t have faith in you.
And one of the reasons she doesn’t trust me, besides the obvious, is because of what happened here four years ago.
We dismount outside the old barn, leave the horses’ reins long so that they can munch on the damp grass, knowing they won’t go anywhere.
Snowdrop does whatever Kat asks of her, and Daredevil, well, I’m still unsure where this horse came from, unsure if he’s truly connected to the Hessian’s original horse or not, but I know that horse won’t leave my side, whether I want him to or not.
I just hope he can behave himself around Kat’s mare, being a stallion and all.
Then again, he might take after me.
I grab Kat’s hand, small and soft against my palm, and lead her into the barn. Just like that night four years ago, I’m nervous. And when I glance down at Kat as she steps into the shadows of the building, I can see she’s nervous too.
“When was the last time you were in here?” I ask her as I walk over to the ladder to the hay loft, clearing cobwebs out of the way.
“Not since…,” she says, and then doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t need to.
I test my foot on the bottom rung. It’s a little softer than before but should hopefully hold us. I climb up to the top first and then look over the edge, waving for her to follow.
“It’s safe.” I look around the loft. Nothing has changed at all, though parts of it seem rotted directly below the hole in the roof.
But there’s still the hay bales we used to sit on, the apple crate with an old tea set.
Memories flutter toward me like ghosts, the past coming alive, and once again I feel the shame of that night, the shame that’s led me here and now.
Kat slowly comes up the ladder, and once she’s at the top, I grab her arms and pull her up the rest of the way.
“Wow,” she says, looking around, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face as she sits on her side. “Nothing has changed.”
“We’ve changed,” I tell her.
“And I wonder if it’s for the better or for the worse?” she muses, a darkness coming over her delicate features.
Her question sinks in. Am I any better than I was at eighteen, before I fled into the night, like a coward who had stolen something he had no intention of giving back?
Am I better now that I am possessed by the spirit of a bloodthirsty soldier?
Am I better now that I know what’s truly at stake and the sacrifices I have to make?
“I guess it depends,” I say, settling down in the hay and patting the space beside me. “Are you better off with your innocence taken?”
She gives me a wry smile and crawls over to me.
Her proximity causes me to lean in and breathe in her wildflower scent, the smell of her causing my heart to tighten, my cock to harden.
How can I love someone so much and desire her so equally?
How can I want to lavish her with tender affection yet want to choke her, spit on her, make her writhe beneath me in total depravity?
How can those two halves coexist? It’s as if there’s light inside me that corrupts the darkness, leaving me to live in shades of gray.
“Innocence never did anyone any good,” Kat says. “I may have lost my innocence to you, but in its place, I gained power.”
The fierceness in her eyes only arouses me more, a deep and chaotic longing that’s clawing its way to the surface.
“Kat,” I whisper to her, and then I’m grabbing her face in my hands, holding her in place, kissing her deeply, feeling every inch of her mouth with my tongue, wanting more, so much more.
I place one hand on her skirt, making a fist in the fabric, trying to hold myself back, and then she pulls her head away, breathing hard.
“Brom,” she says, her mouth wet and open, and God, I want her so badly it’s killing me.
“Yes?” I manage to say, removing my hand from her skirt, and trying to remain in control of my emotions and urges that threaten to overwhelm me.
“I…,” she begins, picking up the stiff hay between her fingers, the light coming through the hole in the roof illuminating a faint flush on her cheeks. “I’m still menstruating,” she says, stumbling over the word. “It’s near the end, I think, but it’s still…I’m not…”
“If you don’t want to be with me,” I tell her, placing my fingers under her chin and forcing her to meet my eyes, “then you don’t have to be.
I might like things rough, but I’m not about to force myself on you if this isn’t what you want.
I love you, Kat. But if you’re worried about blood, then you’re worrying for no reason.
I want to be with you, just like this. I want to be inside you like I was four years ago.
” My voice lowers. “I want to come inside you, spread my seed inside your cunt, make you scream my name until all of Sleepy Hollow knows who you belong to.”
She gives me a fearful look. “Crane will kill you.”
I raise a brow and lean in to her, still holding her head in place. “Is that the only reason I shouldn’t? Because Crane will kill me? And what about you?”
She licks her lips, and I want to do the same to her. “I don’t want to end up pregnant with your baby, Brom.”
Lord, how that stings. It fucking stings.
“I’m not saying never,” she goes on quickly, reading my face. “I’m not…” She closes her eyes. “I don’t know, Brom. I want to be with you. Just like this. Now and in the future, in all my futures…”
“But the horseman…”
“It’s not the horseman,” she says, looking at me with pain in her eyes.
“It’s not just the horseman,” she corrects herself.
“It’s that our union, our baby, is supposed to be a sacrifice to a demon.
You said yourself, the anti-Christ. I’m not about to birth the anti-Christ. You can understand that, can’t you? ”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can’t help but smile at how ridiculous we sound.
“Oh, I understand,” I say, letting go of her.
“I’m not too keen on fathering the anti-Christ myself, and that’s a phrase I never thought I would utter.
But you’re still taking that tea and if you’re menstruating, it’s unlikely you’ll get pregnant.
That’s nature.” I pause, feeling the heady, possessive want for her flare through me.
“And what else is nature is the need to take what’s mine.
And you’re still mine, Kat, no matter what anyone else says. You’re mine, aren’t you?”
She nods.
“Then lie back on that hay, hike up your dress, and spread your legs.”
Her blue eyes widen a little as she stares at me, and I’m not sure how she’ll take to me ordering her around. She liked it once. She likes it with Crane.
And with a shaking exhale, she leans back on the hay.
She obeys me.
A wicked thrill runs through me, the sense of power I’ve craved. Having the horseman at my disposal is one thing, having Kat obey me, and only me, is another.
She is submitting.
I am taking.
I get on my knees and come around her. “You said your innocence never did you any good. Show me, then, how bad you can be.” I place my hands on her calves, spreading her legs. “Lift up your skirt,” I tell her. “Or I’ll do it for you.”
“There’s blood,” she protests, as if I wasn’t aware of that.
“There was blood four years ago too,” I point out, putting my hands under her hem and running them up the cool skin of her calves. She doesn’t have stockings on, and even that feels illicit.
“I’m not even wearing…,” she begins, putting her forearm across her eyes as if she can’t bear to watch me. “I ran out of cloth, so I don’t…It’s just…”
I have to admit, I’ve never been with a woman while she’s having her monthly bleeds, so part of me is drawn to the forbidden notion of it, of witnessing something so private and secret and raw. It gets me harder than anything.
But Kat is too shy to do anything, so I push her skirt up around her hips.
She’s not wearing any drawers at all, and there’s just a hint of red around her opening, faint smears along the inside of her soft thighs, and it’s a damn beautiful sight.
“You’re barely bleeding,” I assure her, my voice sounding thick with want. “This is nothing compared to the ritual.”
“I don’t want you to think of me as dirty and unclean,” she protests. “I took a bath this morning, I—”
Before she can finish her sentence, I shove my face between her legs.
“Brom!” she gasps, but I just grab hold of her thighs and hold her open for me.
The taste of blood hits my tongue, mixed with the scent of soap and the essence of what’s undeniably her.
It acts like an elixir, like magic, a fever spreading through me, making my skin hot, making my cock so hard and hungry.
I am completely feral for this woman.
And she loves it.