Chapter 15 When the Fly Welcomes the Spider #2
Instead, I heard a voice that most definitely did not belong to an ancient ruler of Hell.
“Wow,” Bo said mildly.
“That sounded like one hell of a wet dream.”
I screamed, sitting up quickly.
It wasn’t dignified. It was a full, high-pitched shriek that tore out of me as I flung myself backward.
A choking sound that turned into one of outraged pain as my spine slammed into the headboard.
My hands flew up to my face in pure reflexive terror, and my heart tried valiantly to escape my chest entirely.
Especially as I stared at the small, hunched figure perched at the end of my bed like some kind of grotesque gargoyle.
Bo blinked at me, long ears twitching slightly as he tilted his head, utterly unfazed by my near cardiac event.
“Morning, sunshine,” he added, swinging his little legs back and forth as if this was the most natural place in the world for him to be.
“What are you doing in my bedroom?!” I yelled, my voice cracking as I clutched the sheets to my chest, adrenaline still flooding my system.
He smirked at me, and only then did I notice what he was holding.
My damn panties!
They dangled from one crooked finger, pale fabric twisted lazily as he spun them around with idle interest.
“Holy mother goddess! What the fuck are you… Wait, never mind, I don’t want to fucking know! Just give me those!” I snapped, lunging forward and snatching them out of his grip, my face burning hot as I yanked the sheets higher and glared at him.
“What in the actual depths of Hell is wrong with you?!” I screeched.
He snorted, clearly amused, leaning back on his palms as if settling in for a chat.
“Relax, girly. I heard you crying out. Figured I should check on you. You know, like a good little roommate.” He winked at me, giving me more than enough cause to roll my eyes at him.
“And you, what exactly? Decided to pick up my underwear in case you need a slingshot as a weapon?”
He shrugged his little shoulders and smirked.
“Something like that.”
“Oh, and FYI, you are most definitely not my roommate,” I hissed, placing high emphasis on the NOT part of that statement, while stuffing the offending underwear beneath my pillow like that somehow undid the crime.
Then I pointed a finger at him and corrected,
“You are a goblin I accidentally summoned who refuses to leave and has absolutely no concept of personal boundaries.”
“Charming,” he replied dryly before adding,
“And here I was thinking concern was a redeeming quality.”
“If you must know, I was screaming because I was having a nightmare,” I told him, dragging a hand down my face as my breathing finally started to slow, though my pulse was still racing.
“Not because I needed you conducting some kind of weird laundry inspection.”
He squinted at me, unimpressed.
“Sounded pretty intense for just a nightmare.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t a fucking wet dream!” I snapped, making him smirk.
However, it was in this very inconvenient moment that parts of the dream suddenly slammed back into me.
Meaning that for half a second, the image flashed of the throne, the web, his arms closing around me.
The certainty in his voice… Goddess, and there went my stomach again, fluttering so hard it made me a little nauseous.
“It wasn’t important,” I said quickly, far too quickly, as I waved a dismissive hand and I swung my legs out of bed.
“Just stress. You know. Work. Life. Accidentally attracting the attention of a terrifying, half-Fae, half-demon judge of hell, who also happens to be the most powerful sorcerer in this realm… did I cover everything?” I asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, that about covers most of it, and for the record, I did try to warn you, girly,” Bo unhelpfully reminded me before humming thoughtfully, his gaze flicking over me in a way that suggested he wanted to say more.
“Drop it,” I warned before he could say it, shooting him a look as I stood, tugging my oversized sleep shirt down and trying very hard not to think about why my heart was still pounding like Oblivion was here.
“And how long have you been in here anyway?” I asked, knowing I should have done a better job scanning my room when I first opened my eyes.
He shrugged, grinning in a way that immediately set my teeth on edge.
“Long enough to confirm that you talk in your sleep.”
My groan wasn’t at all subtle as I scrubbed my hands over my face, already regretting every one of my life choices that had led me to this exact moment.
Bo’s attention shifted almost immediately once I started moving.
His sharp little eyes tracking the room with renewed interest. As if the near-death-by-heart-attack incident was already filed away as ancient history.
I should have known better than to assume he’d stay focused on me for longer than five seconds.
Especially once he slid off the bed and padded across the room like he owned the place.
“What is with all the frogs anyway?” he said slowly, suspiciously, stopping short near my dresser, before flicking one with a springy head.
I tensed before groaning, knowing what he saw now was far from the décor throughout the rest of my apartment.
One that was all clean lines and modern, neutral colors.
The kind of space that looked like it belonged to a sensible adult woman with a serious job and a mortgage-sized fear of instability.
My bedroom, however, told a slightly different story.
Frogs perched everywhere.
On shelves, on my windowsill, clustered together on the top of my dresser like a small, judgmental council.
Ceramic ones, glass ones, plush ones in various stages of wear.
A couple of badly painted souvenirs that probably should have stayed in gift shops.
There was even a stuffed frog tucked against my pillows, its fabric faded soft from years of being squeezed during bad nights.
Bo stepped closer to the dresser, squinting at a small green figurine with a chipped foot.
“This some kind of ward?” he asked, poking it experimentally.
“Protection charm?”
“No,” I said quickly, reaching out to take it from him before he decided to lick it or something equally horrifying.
“It’s just… a frog.”
He looked at me, looked back at the multitude of my froggy collection, then looked around the room again, his mouth curling into something far too knowing.
“Uh-huh,” he said.
“And you didn’t stop at one, why?”
I rolled my eyes again at his obnoxious question.
“They’re decorative,” I insisted weakly, placing the figurine back exactly where it belonged, angled just so.
“People collect things.”
“People collect stamps,” he countered.
“You’ve got enough amphibians in here to start a swamp.”
I groaned, rubbing at my temple as heat crept up my neck.
“Can you not psychoanalyze my bedroom before I’ve even had coffee?”
He snickered, hopping up onto the edge of my dresser and swinging his legs again, head tilted as he studied me.
“Ahh, okay, so I get it now,” he said thoughtfully, and I really didn’t want to bite.
I even felt myself clenching my butt cheeks from trying so hard not to. But then with the lack of squats in my life… I released my ass and broke.
“What? What do you get, Bo?” I asked, already hating myself.
“Lily-pad… your sister, the hot one, that’s why she called you Lily-pad.”
I froze and released a pent-up groan that wasn’t my first and no doubt wouldn’t be my last… not by a long shot. Goddess, I needed coffee. He grinned, pleased with himself.
“Obsession with frogs… Bit jumpy… Snappy tongue… a bit of a loner… yep, it tracks.”
I snorted despite myself, the sound slipping out before I could stop it as I grabbed the stuffed frog from my bed and shoved it into his chest.
“Congratulations,” I told him dryly.
“You’ve cracked the case. Yes, Lily-pad. My mother thought it was adorable. I did not.”
“Yeah, it totally shows,” he snorted, gesturing a skinny arm out around the room.
“I love my mother,” I insisted, making him raise a brow.
“And she turns into a frog on a full moon, or what?”
My wry look said it all.
“No, smart ass. But she did used to buy me frogs, telling me I was their lily pad. Hence, the collection.”
“She buy you all of these?” he asked, his tone a little astonished.
“I am twenty-seven,” I stated, making him frown.
“Yeah, so?”
“So that’s twenty-seven birthdays, Easters and Christmases… now you do the math,” I said, gesturing to my frog army.
He nodded his head before saying,
“Well, color my ass a shade greener, yeah, that’s a lot of frogs.”
“No shit,” I said, not bothering to delve into the fact that my Pagan mother was quite happy celebrating all manner of holidays, whether she believed in them or not. And therefore, what she very much believed in was having any excuse to buy her daughter’s gifts or making life fun for us.
I cleared my throat and straightened, suddenly aware that the softness of the moment was dangerously close to being real.
“You done psychoanalyzing my psyche?” I asked, forcing lightness back into my voice.
“Or are you planning on critiquing my entire personality before breakfast?”
Bo hopped down with a huff.
“Relax, Lily-pad. I’ve seen worse.”
I scoffed a laugh, one that died when he told me,
“I’m from Hell, remember?”
“How could I forget?” I muttered, already turning toward the bathroom.
“And for the record, you’re not allowed in here.”
He opened his mouth to argue just as I shut the door firmly in his face, the click of the lock a small but deeply satisfying victory as I leaned back against it for a second, exhaling slowly.
And for reasons I absolutely refused to unpack right now, my thoughts flickered, uninvited, to another room filled with power and old books. Back to a gaze that had felt like it saw everything.
Back to…
The judge of my desires.