Ho Ho Homicidal Maniac (Murder and Mistletoe #2)

Chapter 9

Nico

When I wake up after my four hours sleep, I get so excited to find myself hugging Blake I have to remove myself from the bed before I can do something I’ll regret. Fortunately, my precious captive sleeps through me untangling myself, as if he’s a hibernating bear.

Even though I need to deal with my hard-on in the shower, I still start the day on a positive note simply because he’s here, in my bed, after a lovely dinner date and some sizzling flirting. He can play hard to get all he wants, but I noticed his excitement, his flush, and even though he hit me and tried to run away, before that, our kiss was real .

I’m an understanding guy, I can see that he’s under a lot of pressure. He’s found out that someone is after him, which has to be extremely stressful, and he doesn’t know me that well yet. I’ll need to reassure him, prove to him how worth his time I am and that he doesn’t need to be afraid of me. All the other inconveniences will be sorted out.

As I prepare a morning feast for us and run some errands so everything’s ready when he wakes up, I can’t get over what a good fit we are. Not only do sparks fly whenever we flirt, but we share a morbid sense of humor, and we both need to be loved. Between the lines, I read his relationship with his brother isn’t as rosy as he tries to portray it.

They text often? Blake sees him every few weeks ? Blake is eighteen, so it means he’s been neglected, left to his own devices, and without much access to people his own age. And then after all that, his brother just pushes him out of the nest and into the sharp-toothed wolf jaws of men who would gladly leave the imprints of their teeth all over his pale body? It’s such a good thing I found him and can take care of him from now on.

I’m arranging our food on the wooden tray when a soft grunt reaches my ears from the room next door, followed by a rustle of sheets. Ha. My guest is up and running. Well, he will be once I take the cuffs off, but that’s a minor detail.

I use my phone to start playing instrumental Christmas music in the bedroom, and then place a single poinsettia flower into the miniature vase in the middle of the breakfast spread. Happy with my work, I stroll next door, already excited to see Blake’s pretty face again.

“Good morning,” I say, popping my head through the open door. He lies prone with his head tucked deep into the soft pillow and the covers tangled around his legs, as if he’s spent the past few minutes of sleep tossing and turning. With his hands up and cuffed to the headboard, he’s like a gift wrapped especially for me, but I don’t want to distress him and remove the shackles as soon as I place the tray over his lap.

His thick, dark brows lower over green eyes, which watch me intently as Blake swallows. “Hello, Nico.”

“Good morning. You look so sleepy. It’s adorable. I hope you’re hungry? I got us coffee from the place next door too.” I sit on the bed right next to him as he rubs his wrists.

He’s still in the festive onesie I got him as pajamas and I imagine we could wear matching ones on Christmas day. Today, I settled for simple jeans and a T-shirt. It’s white, with a print stating ‘Nice until proven Naughty’.

There’s fresh pastries, a selection of sandwiches on the tray, and even some fruit, if he’s up for it first thing in the morning. I’m rather proud of myself.

He goes straight for the coffee I poured into my best mug and watches me from behind it. His eyes are puffy, his curly hair in disarray, and if I could have my way, I’d be kissing his neck already. But I’m not about cheap hookups with the person whose voice I’ve fantasized about for a long time, the person who got to know the real me, so I remain patient and help myself to a croissant with pistachio cream.

“I didn’t even notice you leaving,” Blake says and puts down the coffee to follow my example.

“You sleep like a baby. I’m usually well-rested after just a few hours. Which is very convenient when I need to run a shop, stay ripped, and plan my kills.” I slurp some coffee and then bite into the pastry. It’s flaky, but soft inside, with homemade cream. I move it to Blake’s mouth and urge him to take a bite now that I know it’s perfect.

He’s about to sink his teeth into a bear claw, but when I move my own pastry close to his face, his gaze drifts to it before meeting mine. A jolt of pleasure spears through my body, but I remain still and only bite the inside of my cheek when he leans in and tries what I’m offering. His lashes flutter, and he hums, nodding. “Those are very good!”

I’m so happy that he’s pleased I fist-pump. “And I have so much planned for us today. I got you new clothes, hopefully your size, because you seemed not as eager to show off your Christmas spirit all the time. My employee’s been encouraging me to take a day off for a long time, and I always worry that I need to be at the shop, but you know what? He’s right. Fuck it. I need to live a little, and with you here, it just makes sense.”

“So we’re going out to find the guy who’s after me?” Blake asks and hurriedly takes a sip of coffee, as if he’s ready to stuff the rest of the pastry in his mouth and bolt out of bed.

I stall, chewing my treat, then rub his knee through the blanket. “Hmm… you did promise me a date first.”

Blake’s pouty mouth opens farther, and he stares back. “Oh… I did, didn’t I? The weather looks pretty decent,” he says, pointing at the window, which showcases a blue sky smudged by wispy clouds. “What do you want to do?”

I straighten up, almost bouncing with excitement. “We will go ice skating, I’ll show you my town, we’ll go on a very special tour. I picked a restaurant for us that does local venison and desserts made of foraged ingredients, and the crown jewel at the end…” I lower my voice for effect, “it’s a surprise!”

Blake drinks more of the coffee, and while his silence is almost unsettling, I get the sense that his green eyes are blades slicing into my soul to uncover hidden layers. “I saw you cut into that guy, and there’s a prison cell in your basement, but I’m still having a hard time accepting that you are the Christmas Killer. You murder people. How are you so positive all the time?”

“Oh. I guess I’m just quite excitable, and my… needs are met by what I do.” I get so thoughtful I calm down and sit next to him again. I extend my hand to him, and while he hesitates, he does take it. “I wasn’t always like this. My dad drank too much, and while he wasn’t violent, it was destroying him. He argued a lot with my mom, and I had all this pent-up rage inside of me, mixing with morbid interests I didn’t understand well. As a kid, I overheard my parents arguing about me. My mother said something was wrong with me after I didn’t want to give up my teeth to the tooth fairy, and in hindsight, I guess she was right. She didn’t like to spend time with me, and I only became more sullen. I spent more and more time with my granddad because my father ended up in rehab several times. All around, not a great situation, Blake, but throughout all that, the Christmas shop, the crafts I did with my grandpa, they were an escape into something stable and happy.” I squeeze his hand. I had no idea how much I needed to be listened to like this. I have all of Blake’s attention, and he hardly even blinks. “I was eleven when my father died, and my mother ended up leaving me to my grandpa shortly after. It’s the best thing she could do really, because I was out of control. Always angry, picking fights with other kids, filled with a darkness I couldn’t contain.”

Blake frowns. “A murderer? Out of control? Who would have thought?” I’m not sure if he’s trying to offend me or make a joke, but then he strokes my hand with his thumb and frowns. “Did you go after small animals? Or set stuff on fire? ”

My mouth quirks when I realize he wants to know more about my childhood. He wants to find out how well I fit the typical serial killer profile.

“I’m not proud to admit I did set my dad’s car on fire after he died. Hope it doesn’t make me a stereotype. My grandpa caught me, and I thought he’d beat me, but instead, he talked to me about my anger and listened when I admitted how I want to see some people suffer, how it builds up in me like an impending avalanche.

“That night, he took me to a faraway cabin. I think he wanted to either test me, spook me, or teach me a lesson, but he showed me the body of a man he killed. And I wasn’t scared, I was fucking fascinated. That night is a blur, but as we talked, and it all poured out of me, I wasn’t afraid. He could see that. He ended up letting me take the man’s teeth, and then we set the house on fire. I got to throw the match. I never had a more peaceful sleep, and yes, I never wet the bed after that.” I chuckle and roll my eyes.

Blake’s face blooms a bright red, and he averts his gaze. “Seemed too personal to ask. But…. yes, I wanted to know that too. And above all else… I suppose I’m almost envious of how at peace you seem to be with everything. I’m not even close to that.”

I stroke his hand with my thumb. “I have two big things in my life that make me happy. Christmas and murder. And thanks to my grandfather’s forethought, even if I’m caught one day, I’ll be able to show evidence of my crimes being vigilante justice, which makes me sleep peacefully at night. I always have something to look forward to, and now… I have you as well,” I say more carefully, because I don’t want to spook him with my intensity. “If you let me, of course. But you don’t need to make any decisions just yet.” Even though I wish I could unzip his outfit and pump him full of my cum.

“It must be nice to have such peace of mind. I always feel like I’m not quite where I belong,” Blake says and as he bites into his pastry, a crumb stays on the skin close to his lips like the palest of beauty spots. I lick my lips, tempted to kiss him when I remember our mouths pressing together in the shower. But I’m older, more experienced, and need to keep a lid on things until he’s ready, so I swipe the flake away with my thumb.

He’ll be where he belongs when he knows he’s mine, but I have to be patient.

Green eyes meet mine, deep and soulful. “Now that your grandfather is gone, do you have any family left?”

“No. My mother moved to Florida after leaving me and we don’t keep in touch. But I have friends, a lot of people know me from my shop, they just… they don’t know all of me. Not like you.” I lift his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles. “And I want to be known. I’ve never told anyone any of this. Maybe this is what I’ve been missing when I tried to date.”

Blake snorts but doesn’t pull away, and I don’t miss the color rising to his cheeks again when I keep my lips against his soft hand. “T-this isn’t a romcom. We’d need to hate each other first, and you’re acting like you’re already all-in.”

“Isn’t you hating me enough for our love to bloom?” I tease, but my shoulders fall. I struggle to keep a lid on my excitement when it comes to romance.

Blake licks his lips, startled by my question. Tiny spiders crawl up my arms as we watch one another in silence, assessing the strength of the energy sparking between us .

“I don’t hate you,” he says in the end. “I’m just confused, because you’re not what I expected.”

“In a good way?”

Blake laughs and rubs his face in a careless way I find adorable. “Yes. But I also know you’re a killer, so I keep expecting you to turn me into your new project.”

I let go of him, because I don’t want to smother Blake. “You’re safe with me, Cryptic Boy. After all, I need new podcast episodes.”

He laughs once more, and I freeze when his hand touches my thigh, only to immediately pull away, as if he remembered he’s not supposed to be this touchy-feely. “I don’t doubt you’ll give me plenty of material to work on. Now that I know you only kill bad people, I’m almost sorry I can’t do a countdown to the next victim each December.” He drinks the coffee, finishes his pastry, but then starts wiggling closer to the edge of the bed.

“We’ll have to wait with any podcasting until I’m sure the person who ordered the hit is dead. For now, let’s enjoy the day. I left you a selection of clothes here,” I point to a chair, “and I’ll wait for you in the living room.” The very idea that someone who wants my precious sweet potato dead is out there makes me want to rage, so I take a deep breath.

“Thank you. I won’t be long,” Blake says and stretches on the way to the bathroom as if to show off the shape of his shoulders.

I in turn, can’t wait to show him off to Owen.