Ho Ho Homicidal Maniac (Murder and Mistletoe #2)

Chapter 10

Blake

It’s a bit overwhelming to have the kind of morning I considered relegated to romantic movies. Sure, I was in chains when Nico first entered, but he brought me coffee, pastries, and even new clothes, which he must have bought for me, since there’s no way he owns anything my size.

Unless the garments belong to one of his past victims.

I grab the burgundy sweater with a Scandi pattern on the arms and chest, and sigh in relief when I find an intact label. It also says the piece is made of hundred percent wool, which starts a little fire inside me. It’s nice to know Nico remembered what I told him last night.

I’m tempted to have another pastry, but it would be a bit too indulgent on a normal day like this one, so I rush into the bathroom for a quick shower, and then pair the sweater with dark blue jeans that fit me perfectly. Despite Nico clearly having a taste for loud patterns and bright colors, he took care to pick out something I’d feel comfortable in, which is a rather new development in my life. I’ve been choosing my own clothes since I was thirteen.

Carl does sometimes offer me wearable gifts, but he never understood my taste. I didn’t have the heart to tell him, but I don’t think he notices that I never put on the belts with big, flashy buckles, or wear the uncomfortably large wristwatch he gave me for my last birthday. He doesn’t wear such things either, but I suppose he considers it a more youthful style, suitable for someone my age.

I stand in front of the tall, wall-mounted mirror to adjust my unruly curls and wonder if my host/jailor is starting to feel annoyed by how much time I’m taking. I’m ready, and I look good in the outfit Nico picked for me, but I’m almost afraid to see him again. The tension of last night is like a splinter under my nail, and I worry what might happen if things get out of hand. He seems nice enough as a person, and I can’t help being physically drawn to him, but he is a killer, who might just be playing nice to manipulate me. And this whole date thing is like an obstacle course full of quicksand traps.

I’ve never had a boyfriend.

I’ve never been on a date.

I only had my first kiss last night, with the Christmas Killer. Things seem to be moving way too fast.

When I finally emerge, I’m met with Nico’s sharp gaze and languid smile. He eyes me from head to toe, and I feel naked despite the layer of clothes on my back. He wants me. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. And he could have had me whether I wanted it or not, yet he’s giving me space and showering me with gifts .

He holds a coat for me like the perfect gentleman, and we put on hats and gloves as we head down the stairs. Nico looks so perfectly normal in a plaid red jacket worthy of a sexy lumberjack. Only the snowflakes on his neck, which I now know extend down his chest give him a bit of edge, but lots of people have tattoos. Not in a thousand years would I pick him out of a lineup as a killer. Heartbreaker? Definitely.

As he lets me through the door after tying a soft scarf around my neck, I let my thoughts drift to an alternative world where he and I met in the town closest to my home, where I would sometimes go to look at strangers and pick out books.

If he knocked my shopping out of my hands by bumping into me, would I let him invite me for a coffee? Could we maybe have great rapport, good enough that I would consider anything resembling a relationship? That would make my life unnecessarily complicated, and I always dreamed about a free and uninhibited life once I was of age, but he could have charmed me.

Problem is, Nico is not the guy from my simple fantasy. He is the serial killer who’s been fascinating me for years, and that’s a whole other can of worms.

I can’t unsee him sawing a man’s head off, or the way he looked in a balaclava, dragging a body down a flight of stairs. I can’t unhear him talking about the darkness inside him, or how he’s at peace with killing because of a code.

But the worst thing is, I’m drawn to that side of him too. Morbid curiosity of the same kind that made me spend countless hours watching murder scene footage. He’s a car crash, and I can’t look away.

“Hey, Owen!” Nico says as soon as we’re downstairs, and one glance at the counter reminds me of my failure to alert my brother to my peril. The phone’s still there, so close and yet so far.

A young guy with dusky skin and short black hair looks up from a large container full of balls of ribbon and string. He’s dressed in a brown loungewear set meant to imitate a reindeer, but the smile he’s wearing for Nico briefly dies at the sight of me.

I stall, unsure what to expect, but the stranger’s face brightens up like sun in the spring, and he leans against the counter separating the back of the shop from the space meant for customers.

“You didn’t say you had a guest, Boss!”

“Owen, meet Blake, my new boyfriend.” Nico puts an arm over my shoulders, but there’s nothing casual about the fire I’m instantly engulfed by. He’s showing me off, which is flattering, yet I’m also put on the spot, because we’ve not talked about me being his boyfriend at all. He said we’d go on a date. But the weight of his arm is so pleasant I’m finding it hard to think altogether.

I know I’m good-looking, so maybe he just wants to boast, but he still should have informed me about his plans instead of unleashing them without a warning. It’s a reminder that I need to keep him at arm’s length.

Owen grins. “Oh, the guy you mentioned? Damn, he is a catch!”

I give a soft chuckle, embarrassed by the attention. “Um… it’s all quite fresh.”

“He might be insufferable sometimes, but trust me, you’ve got a good one,” Owen tells me with a wink. “This guy here took me in and gave me a job when my family threw me out the moment I turned eighteen. Don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for him.”

Ah, so Owen fancies himself Nico’s wingman.

“Come on,” Nico laughs, “you were a good fit for the job.”

Owen snorts. “Half the time I was late or crying on your sofa, but if you say so…”

“I get it, you’re such a good, caring guy,” I tell Nico and shake my head to make sure he understands I see this exchange for what it is. Yet I don’t want to slide out from under his arm yet. Even after three days in his murder basement. I’m so messed up.

“I said no single lie,” Owen says and returns to his box of packaging materials while Nico leads me past the counter toward the door opening into the street. “Leave it open, I was about to unlock the door anyway. Have fun you two!”

“But if there’s a sudden onslaught of crowds, do call me!” Nico says with a worried expression.

Owen rolls his eyes. “No, I’ll call the temps first.”

Nico sighs and waves at him. “Thanks!”

I’m in disbelief when my foot hits the pavement. After the few days I’ve had, the outside world almost feels like a simulation. Nico has allowed me outside. If I screamed my head off for help right now, he’d be unable to stop me without someone noticing, because while the picture-perfect town is still waking up to life, there’s already some tourists admiring the Christmas decorations contrasting with snow that must have fallen last night, locals running errands, and a postal truck stops in front of a butcher’s shop just as we leave the Winter Emporium.

A part of me wants to do it, to break the trust he’s placed in me, but it’s a bright, sunny day, and I have so much to still find out about the Christmas Killer. I don’t want to waste the chance I’m given because of fear. I’ll be smart about this, so I can have my cake and eat it too.

“Why did you tell him we’re a couple?” I whisper as we step into the frosty air .

Nico clears his throat, but when he tries to hold my hand, I put it in my pocket. This is all too much, too fast. I’m guessing he knows the town isn’t too homophobic for such a display of affection, but I’m overwhelmed.

“Is that really a problem? We are dating…”

Whatever positive things I’ve been thinking about him need to be retracted, because he is insane. “This is only our first date. What if it doesn’t work out?”

He groans and puts his hands into his pockets too. “Then I’ll tell him we broke up. What’s the big deal? Are you ashamed of me or something?”

“What? No! I just don’t know if I’m ready for relationships. You’re moving really fast, and I’m only about to start my own life,” I say, walking toward a picturesque church at the end of the road, and a Christmas tree almost as tall as the red brick buildings on either side. I don’t drive, and even though I can ask my brother to pay someone to take me places, I rarely end up going anywhere. It’s both exciting and overwhelming to be here. I don’t even know the name of this town.

“Fast? I barely kissed your forehead last night.” Nico is disgruntled like a big baby who didn’t get to lick the lollipop they stole. I look back, glad the sidewalk has been dusted with salt already, because the piles of snow under the building facades are pretty substantial.

“Yes, fast. I don’t know you well yet, and I don’t like that you’re pushing. I’m too young to seriously consider commitment. We just share a common goal.”

For a while we walk in silence, his face no longer the sunshine I got in the morning. I worry if maybe I should pander to him more, but why does he get to be real with me and I don’t ?

“I spilled my guts to you about my deepest, darkest secrets. How can you say you don’t know me well?” Nico mumbles without looking at me.

This feels like trying to teach a rottweiler how to be human. “That’s not how it works. You can’t expect me to move at the same speed as you, just because you want me to. And what happened to friendship?” I say, wanting to offer a meaningful alternative to his fantasies.

“I don’t want friendship. I want to kiss you and fuck you,” he growls, spearing me with eyes like two icicles.

Wow . Okay then.

I look around, worried someone might have overheard him, but the street is empty. My insides pulse in response to the harsh way he pronounces the word fuck , and I need to redirect my thoughts, because they now contain as much fear as they do excitement. “If you don’t accept ‘no’ for an answer, how come you’re taking me out? And, by the way, people don’t need to be in relationships in order to have sex,” I add, speeding up to rush past a lady walking her dog.

I sense the intensity of his gaze on my back, so I try to focus on seeming like I’m just looking at a shop window in passing when in fact, I don’t even know where we’re going. On top of that, I can’t stop thinking of the intense and straightforward way in which he proclaimed his intentions. I imagine Nico taking me into some alleyway, pushing down my jeans and going for it. Which is hot, as a concept, but also frightening if I consider it seriously. I don’t know how much I’ll even like sex.

When Nico catches up to me, my heart skips a beat, because he walks even closer than before. “We don’t need to be, but we could. I don’t get why you’re so opposed to it. I would be the best boyfriend. ”

“Until I do something to piss you off and you cut off my legs so I can’t run,” I tell him, trying to calm myself as pressure rises in my chest.

Nico’s frown deepens, and his lack of answer is more terrifying than I could have imagined.

“Oh my God!” my voice rises in panic. “You’re actually considering it!”

“I wasn’t!”

The frosty air stabs my throat as I suck it in and cross the street, wondering if I shouldn’t ask someone for help after all. He wouldn’t dare make a scene in the town where everyone knows him.

This has been a terrible idea. I should have acted immediately, and now all I want is to return to the side of the street with more people.

My breath turns into vapor. My mind is scattered, and I couldn’t have been more aware of the tall presence behind me as I step onto the sidewalk.

I back out toward a shop behind me while watching his every step.

“Blake. This is completely unreasonable. Be careful on the ice—” he says, but then glances up and before I know it, he dashes at me like a mountain lion hungry for flesh.

I scream out when he grabs me, ready to fight tooth and nail for my life as I land in his tight hold. Only several loud thuds right behind me make me realize what’s happening as I look over my shoulder and see snow collapsing to the ground alongside long claws of ice that might have speared my head, had Nico not held me back. Focused on the danger, he pulls me farther away as I go limp in his arms, clutching onto his jacket for dear life.

“Oh, dear God,” someone calls out before people around us erupt with expressions of shock .

Nico points to the rooftops. “Watch out for the thawing icicles!” he yells to the public, hugging me. “I’ve got you,” he whispers to me and kisses the side of my head. “You’re safe.”

I’m melting.

Heat streams in my limbs and pools in my chest as Nico holds me up, proving just how strong his arms are. With the world spinning around me, I have a hard time rejecting his embrace, and when he stands straight and pulls me against his chest, I stay there, my eyes closed as I inhale his scent to calm down.

As scary as this man is, stepping away is the last thing I want.

“What the hell? Someone should have removed the snow long ago,” I mumble.

“It happens,” Nico says, stroking my back.

When a few people start clapping, I get so embarrassed I finally pull away, but my wobbly feet are like marshmallows.

“Thank you. So, um… where are we going?”

Nico beams at me and points to a cafe not far from where we’re standing. “Our date begins there.”

The sandwich board outside states: Cookie decorating workshop today!

“Will it be all Christmas trees and gingerbread men, or will I get to also do zombies and severed heads?” I mumble, but my heart skips a beat, because this is one of those things I’ve always wanted to do but never got to. I often watch my private chef cook, so maybe that counts for experience?

I don’t have friends, not in real life, and the idea that Nico came up with this on his own warms something deep inside my frosty heart .

“I’d love to do a severed head with you,” he says sheepishly as we start walking again, away from the argument erupting around the broken snow and ice, and I find myself gravitating closer, until I can sense his warmth on my hand. I’m not ignorant of how crazy my actions are, but I’m scared, and he saved me, and we’re going to decorate cookies together, as if he’s known me for years, not three days.

I press my fingers to his hand, which twitches before grabbing them as we pass beautiful Christmas displays in shop windows.

I probably shouldn’t encourage him, but I did promise him a date.