Chapter Twenty-One Halloween
“Look at my little heroes. Who’s my pretty girl? Who is my handsome fella?” King croons. “Ready for the parade?”
“I still can’t believe they close schools for Halloween.
And trick-or-treating in the middle of the day, the parade at noon.
.. is everyone off from work?” I whip out my phone and snap a picture of King in his All-Star jersey and black undereye paint as he pulls Chip into his lap.
Chip is Superman in a bright red cape with the telltale S on it, and Daisy is Captain America in a doggy cape that has his shield on it in puffy fabric.
“Trick-or-treating should be done in the daytime. It’s harder to tell real monsters from fake ones in the dark.”
I snap a picture as Daisy joins the cuddle puddle, her nose buried in King’s shoulder and her tail waving wildly in joy. “Adorable.”
“Send me that, babe?”
“I will.” I kiss his head and tap to share the picture. “But why would that matter? About real monsters, I mean?”
“Because some real monsters are really monstrous—and they have the power to back it up. And so are some humans, with evil in their hearts.”
“But the monsters in Pine Ridge are nice. Right?” My skin prickles.
“The ones who stay here? Sure.” King nods and shrugs, like this is old news to him.
“But this place does attract the supernatural—including the dark side of paranormal. The ones who have given in to darkness forget the origins of this day—to honor the blessed dead. Or they pervert it, craving violence. Craving a kill. It just becomes about death to some, and killing and sacrifice are ways to get death. That’s why we have a Night Watch, to stop the wicked things from taking root in Pine Ridge.
And tonight is a night to be extra careful, when so many people are messing around with wicked things, not aware of what they’re unleashing. ”
I swallow. I’m not a scaredy cat. I’ve watched a few horror movies in my time.
And I could always say, ‘It’s just a movie’ if it looked too scary.
I’m not sure I like knowing evil versions of the kind monsters I’ve met lurk in the world, waiting for a place to strike. “Are you on the Night Watch?”
“Not with this leg. Not for now.” King looks at me and clicks his tongue.
The dogs jump down at once and sit at his feet with expectant doggie grins, waiting for head rubs.
He delivers, but his lips purse into a worried frown.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. This place is so well protected.
The coven works over time, starting in September.
The garden club plants sacred herbs, and good fae and wolves bury silver and iron all around the town boundaries.
” He holds out his hand to me, and I take it, letting him pull me into his lap.
I’ve always been too self-conscious about my size to sit on anyone’s lap, but I fit onto King’s good thigh and overflow onto his other as he beams at me. I wrap my arms around his neck. “I’ll protect you.”
I try to raise a little fury. How patronizing. How condescending. How chauvinistic.
But he doesn’t mean it that way. He literally means he would protect me. Fight for me.
I swallow hard. I haven’t felt this way in so long. Since I was a teenager. Believing someone other than me could really keep me safe, or would die trying. “I’m not scared with you around. I’m just... antsy.” My cheeks flush.
I want King. I want more of him than I can have, thanks to my current predicament. I know King said he doesn’t mind, but I’ve never tried being intimate during that time of the month, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
“Oh. Antsy?” King’s hand slides between my thighs and instantly presses down, the heel of his palm against my needy clit, working it in circles through the fabric of my black leggings. (I’m going as Catwoman, since all I really need is a black outfit, a mask, and kitty ears.)
“Ohhh. Oh, God,” I whimper.
“Thinking about our first time?”
I swallow and nod, eyes closed, one leg sprawling open and dangling down the side of the chair to give him more access.
“It’s all I can think about. Well, not all, but a lot. You were so tight around me. So gorgeous, spreading around my cock, letting me watch you ride. So pretty, watching all of my cream slide out of you.”
“Nnn.” I let out a breathy whine as he strokes up and down my plump outer lips, still working through the thin black fabric.
“Do you remember what I did when we woke up from our power nap?”
Do I remember when his enormous cock finally slipped out of me and left an ocean of cum in its wake?
Do I remember half of his hand bringing me to a sloppy orgasm again, fucking the mess back into me?
There is nothing wrong with King’s arms. He was tireless, drilling into me, and just when I was about to ask him to take a break—he had me squirting all over him, crowing in satisfaction.
“I don’t hear you saying you remember. Do you want a reminder?” His hand threads along the edge of my waistband, a devilish look in his eye.
“You can’t right now.”
“Oh, I can. I want to. You don’t want me to, and that means... Well, that means I really don’t want to, either. But I do wanna make you come, and nothing about your body is gross to me.”
“That’s very sweet, but—”
“I’d do things in the dark. Blind...folded.” He breaks the word in half with a long, kissing bite on my neck. “You might be extra slippery. Or we could get in the shower. Turn off the lights. Turn on the candles...”
“King! We have a ball to go to. The parade. We promised to bring the dogs trick-or-treating at Hilltop Home.” I don’t want to go to the party at White Pines, even though I’ve never been to a “ball” before.
I don’t even want to go see Mrs. Y, even though she said she’s going to dress up as a fan-dancer in hopes of seducing Mr. Reubens, who has cataracts and couldn’t see her if she were an entire bordello.
I want to ride King in the shower, in the dark, with his hands on my breasts and my pussy breaking around his cock.
“We could probably do all of the things if we leave now,” King suggests.
“Let’s go!” I cry and try to sit up.
King’s fist is like iron around my arm. “Oh no. Not yet. My Ingrid comes first.” He smirks. “Literally.”
“Yes. You can pet them. Hi, Harper. Hi, Alban.” I wave to Harper and Alban Wymark and their kids, toddlers who squeal at the sight of the dogs.
Ingrid holds the leashes because I’m on crutches and am secretly thinking I’m an idiot trying to navigate a parade today.
The town is small—but almost everyone is here.
“It’s a good turnout. Hi, I’m Harper. This is Alban. The two dog-obsessed kiddos in crayon suits are Aidan and Alana.”
“I’m Ingrid.”
“My girlfriend.” I beam, and she blushes, but doesn’t argue.
“Oh-ho! Enjoying the festivities?”
Ingrid nods, smiling at the kids, then at the long black limousine that opens the parade.
Manny Finklestein is driving it, while his wife perches on the sunroof, looking like a cross between the Bride of Frankenstein and Morticia Addams. “This is so cool. I don’t think I watched the whole thing before.
I love to travel, love big festivals—but I don’t think I ever realized this little town could put so much into one event. ”
“Uh. Halloween is a big deal here,” Harper says, looking at me.
“She knows.”
“Oooh! Let me get a video of this float. My mother would love this. She used to go to the Mummers’ Parade in Philadelphia when she was younger and Dad was stationed there.”
The Pine Ridge coven sponsored the first float, and in they come, with a gust of cold air and a swish of lowering clouds, three powerful witches dressed in capes that look like they’re made of fall leaves, swirling and whirling in front of a huge pumpkin.
The next float pays homage to the founders of Pine Ridge—the Dullahan Family, and a giant rearing black horse with a headless rider waves at the crowd.
“Ooh. I’m pretty sure Eddie Hyde is in the ambulance. Isn’t it cool how they’ve made it look like a dragon?” I poke at Ingrid’s elbow.
Ingrid is silent, eyes wide.
“Ingrid? Ingy?”
Ingrid holds out her phone.
There’s a picture of me and the dogs. “That never went through, babe. Send it again?”
“No, I shared it. I just shared it to my mom instead of you.”
“Oh?”
Her face is tight. “Uh-huh.”
“Is that bad?”
Ingrid scrolls up, and I see a long block of text underneath the photo, a reply that turns the phone screen to text.
Mom: Oh my God, who is that? He’s gorgeous. That can’t be your boyfriend, can it? He looks comfy with the dogs. Is he a friend? How tall is he?
Mom: Is that your boyfriend? I thought you said you weren’t interested in dating. Why don’t you bring him with you for Thanksgiving? How old is he?
“She seems excited.”
“Too excited.”
I turn and watch the high school marching band and the pep squad. The small color guard is ridiculously good, and they’re amazing to watch.
But I don’t feel amazing. Ingrid looks pissed off, and her face is closed over.
She’s not ready for me to meet her mom. She didn’t want her to know about me. To have to explain me or who I am to her.
I think about the things we were going to do tonight—the intimate things, injured body and fertile body, wrapped together in darkness and steam, sacred blood that only women can make coating my cock as she shares herself with me.
We shouldn’t do that. We shouldn’t do that unless she loves me as much as I love her, and she’s a human. She doesn’t have the all-consuming instinct that Orcs have. Hell, even I thought it was made up until I met my mate.
How can we be so close and tangled up together one moment, and the next, she seems so far away?
The rest of the parade is incredible, but I don’t talk much during it, and Ingrid is distracted. She types and erases messages to her mother a dozen times, but I never see her send one.
“So. That was an unexpected workout.” I let the dogs off their leashes, and they collapse on King’s rug before I can even get their costumes off.