Chapter 7
Shawna
I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but Jakfros is feeling a bit more.
.. more than spiritual, if you get my meaning.
So much so that I am certain that I felt physical contact yesterday when I was reading to the spirit.
I tried to remain outwardly oblivious to it all, certain that it was just my imagination, but there is really no denying it.
I know I felt something! I swear I could feel the heat of their cheek against my lap, and every exhalation of their breath over my inner thigh and mons.
I can’t even say that spirits even possess a breath or if it is all just my imagination.
All I know is that it sent a heat plunging so deeply through me that it took every bit of self-control not to squirm right there on the chair.
Thankfully, my host didn’t seem to notice my growing arousal.
Still, I cannot understand how a spirit of the winter holiday season is so ignorant about the main themes of a number of human celebrations this time of the year.
That is something I puzzle over as I walk over to the window on my third morning in the cabin, only to sigh as I stare at the giant snowflakes spinning in their rapid descent.
It looks like I’m stuck here for another day.
I rub the back of my neck tiredly. I must admit that I’m a bit worried.
As charming as the spirit is, and their unflagging enthusiasm to play my host, I can’t help but think of my abandoned car.
Did someone find it and report me missing to the proper authorities? Gods, did someone inform my family?
I groan and bury my face in my hand. My mother would absolutely lose her shit.
I doubt she would even let me leave her house once I am miraculously recovered from the woods.
She hated the fact that I took a job as an art teacher two states away to begin with.
She had gone on and on about how my much younger siblings that she had recently had with my stepfather would miss out on growing up without their older sister present in their lives, and how my older brothers would miss me.
Then there were the customary family dinners every Sunday and the holidays throughout the year that I would miss.
I wasn’t entirely surprised when she called me up to tell me that I was expected to show up for Christmas.
Of course, now she will never let me live down ruining Christmas for everyone.
Isn’t that why she demanded that I come home from two states away?
What did it matter if my own holiday plans were already ruined?
She insisted that I come for the full two weeks that I am on holiday break from my regular class schedule for a “proper celebration.” And knowing Mom, she had planned out every single day.
She always went overboard with Christmas.
I sigh as I stare at the snowflakes. In just a few days’ time it will be the eve of winter solstice.
I should have been cozy in my apartment baking gingerbread and sipping cocoa like I planned while I organized what I would need for the Yule meal.
There were even a couple of witches that I had befriended in town that I had invited to share the mid-winter feast with me.
And I’m missing out on all of it and am stuck here in the middle of nowhere because of Mom guilt-tripping me into coming home.
My decision to drive aside, I didn’t even want to go to begin with.
Not that I am complaining about my current five-star luxury cabin in the woods, but this all feels surreal.
Like it can’t be real. And that is setting off a nervous tick behind my eye and a sensation of unease and wrongness filling me as the minutes pass.
I am missing something that I cannot put my finger on, and I don’t like it one bit.
“You are quiet,” my invisible host observes.
A shiver runs up my back, my skin prickling with how near they sound.
Once again, I am pretty certain I can feel the faint brush of their breath, but this time it fans over the sensitive skin of my cheek.
Maybe I am losing my damned mind. Maybe I am wandering half-frozen through the woods or dying in a snowdrift somewhere.
Maybe I am already dead, and I’m no longer even in New York.
My lips twist in a half-hearted smile, and I take a sip of my cocoa. “I’m just feeling a bit introspective at the moment. This snow hasn’t eased up at all. It looks like you are going to be stuck with me for the winter solstice.”
“Hardly something that I would feel morose about,” this spirit whispers, and for the first time I catch a deeper richness in that breathy sound that hints at a timbre of masculine appreciation.
But then Jakfros’s voice lightens again with its typical pitch of wonder and excitement.
“There is much that awaits you yet to enjoy in honor of the passage of the longest night. Such magic you have yet to behold and savor.”
My brows dip slightly as I listen to the words teasing my ear.
There is an undeniable sweetness to them, and I can feel a tug of something deep within me in response, something that feels a bit like Christmas morning.
Not Christmas morning as an adult begrudgingly going through the motions to please the expectations of my mother, but when I was a kid, eight or younger, waking up in the crisp morning with the dance of lights from the tree and decorations, warm in my flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers, and the sharp smell of cinnamon from the baskets of scented pine cones that she liberally set everywhere, and the faint hint of vanilla from the frosted cookies and the cocoa that I left out for Santa.
How peculiar. And how very, very unnatural.
“Am I dead?” I ask, startling a very masculine chuckle from the spirit.
“Not at all,” he whispers, the sound pitching seductively. Now I am certain that the spirit is not the androgynous sprite he pretended to be. “None who are dead could find this place. What use would I have for such company?”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles in response.
“What use do you have for any company, Jak?” I quietly reply.
“You were certainly expecting it from what I could see when I arrived. Everything was set up perfectly, awaiting the arrival of a guest.” My brows dip lower in confusion.
“Why did I ignore that? Isn’t that odd that there was everything waiting and ready for a random guest to arrive?
This is not some random cozy little cabin,” I say as I follow my train of thought suddenly piecing things together.
“It is more like the gingerbread house in a fairytale waiting for the children to arrive.”
And why did the witch lure the children? Well, to eat them, of course.
An icy chill runs through my veins and I freeze, staring blankly out the window while I listen, waiting for Jak’s response.
Again, there is an utter and complete void of silence that fills the room as if I have suddenly lost my sense of hearing or that everything that operates this little magical reality within the cabin pauses.
It’s like everything is suddenly under a deep freeze, encased in impenetrable ice.
Everything has frozen. All except the snow that continues to fall outside the window.
I had forgotten this deadly silence or how eerie it is, and I shiver and I wrap one arm tightly around myself, so I focus on the heat and sweetness of the cocoa grounding me a sense of reality—even if it is an artificial one.
The silence breaks with his sigh and all the sounds of life rush back into the cabin. “Far too clever by far.”
“Are you going to eat me?” I whisper.
The atmosphere grows noticeably heavier, and I swear that I can hear a rumbling growl close to my ear.
“Oh yes. But not now. When the time comes, I will slowly feast upon you to savor every drop of your flavor. But for now, you are not quite... ripe.”
My belly clenches traitorously, and I can feel the hot slide of arousal dampening my panties. This can’t possibly be turning me on... and yet, here we are.
“So, what now?”
He breathes deeply and releases a tiny hiss of pleasure that he barely muffles in time. “For now, we play a game.”
“A game?” I echo, silently praying it isn’t something like hide-and-seek. I am hopeless at finding a good hiding spot.
A chuckle whispers in the air, and then suddenly a warm, red cloak is wrapped around me and the hood drawn over my head. My head drops slightly with the weight so that I am looking at the small entry table to the right of me and notice the red, woolen mittens laying there.
“Are we going somewhere?” I ask with a nervous laugh.
He hums in agreement and suddenly the door swings open, allowing a flurry of snowflakes to blow inside.
The suggestion is clear. I swallow uncertainly, but it seems a bit unwise to argue considering his long-term plans for me as I definitely want to stay on his good side and delay any inevitable eating, so I shove my feet into my boots and step outside.
I catch the sound of a soft jingle right before a pair of pale, clawed hands suddenly appear on either side of me.
I squawk in surprise and attempt to sprint forward, but the creature’s reflexes are quick, and it catches ahold of me, pinning me to its powerful chest.
“Let us play and be merry, sweet Shawna.”
“Jak?” I whisper, and I’m suddenly afraid that I have landed in a holiday fairytale of a much darker sort.