Ho Ho Homicidal Maniac (Murder and Mistletoe #2)

Chapter 12

Nico

I’m huffing and puffing by the time the tree is stable, but I know we’re done when someone pats my shoulder, laughing.

“Way to go, Nico! Saving Christmas as usual.”

I glance back to spot an ex of mine. Though it’s hard to even call him that since we barely lasted two weeks. I’m pretty sure he just wanted to show me off to his family for Christmas last year. Still, we had a few nights of fun.

I smile, but my mind is already on Blake, and I secretly hope he was watching my feat. “You know me, anything to help,” I say.

“You wanna hang out tonight?” Miles smiles at me, but his dimples leave me cold, because I can only think of green eyes and dark curls.

“Sorry, I’ve got a boyfriend,” I say as my insides flutter with excitement. I hope Miles is jealous .

“Free grog on me to all who helped,” Denise says from her stall, prompting all the people who just won a tug of war against a massive tree to cheer.

I would gladly stay, but my feet are already heading back to my forgotten eggnog and the boy who—I stall, noticing that across the square, the bench in front of the burner, where we sat together moments ago, is vacant.

I swallow as I approach in nervous steps and a cold, slimy feeling spreads in my stomach. What if Blake was biding his time for an opportunity to run? Sure, I’ve got details about him paying a hacker and being up to no good, but if he’s scared of me, jail might still be preferable to my company. And deep down, I know my crimes and his are not equivalent. I’ve got much more on the line. If he reports me, I’ll spend the rest of my life behind bars.

I get to the bench and rise to my toes, looking around the crowds for a black hat with a red pom-pom, but it’s gone. Gone along with the prettiest, most interesting boy I’ve ever met and my trust in humanity.

Because of course he’d run.

What have I been thinking? That he actually found my jokes funny? That a great kiss can make him forget I’m a serial killer? I’m a joke. I deserve prison for being a dumb fuck, and as the sheriff’s deputy starts walking my way, rubbing her hands on her jacket, I’m frozen, because there’s nowhere to flee. If Blake used my moment of distraction to his advantage and told the cops about me, I cannot run, not when I’m not even armed.

I steady myself and try to calm down. Maybe there is a way I can play dumb for long enough to disappear, but as my heart is about to stop, deputy Harris shakes my hand. “Thank you, Nico. I think the whole town deserves to pat itself on the back tonight. ”

A heavy weight drops off my chest and a hand rests on my back. I glance to the side to spot Blake’s pretty smile and shining green eyes.

“That was amazing! I wish I could have filmed it,” he says with a wide grin.

I relax and meet the deputy’s eyes as I put my arm over Blake’s shoulders. “Will I get to light the illuminations next year?”

Harris chuckles and taps my chest. “Might take it up with the mayor. Have a good night,” she says, tips her hat, and walks off, leaving me stunned. So many highs and lows in a single day!

“For a second there, I was convinced it would collapse,” Blake tells me with a soft exhale and hands me my eggnog, watching the square, as if he hadn’t even considered running from me.

“But the hero was there,” I boast, greedy for praise.

I’m so desperate for him to love me I’d lift the damn tree myself to impress him or die trying. But maybe I won’t have to. Maybe there are other ways I can impress him...

The cool air sparks with heat between us, but just as I am about to hide him in my shadow and kiss those soft lips again, he speaks.

“It was a great day. But long. Maybe let’s go back home?”

My pulse quickens. Does this mean he wants to be alone with me? The shop is about to close anyway, so we wouldn’t have to worry about me being called in to help with the customers. Or making too much noise for that matter.

I can already imagine him moaning and squirming under me, and maybe it’s wrong, but I’m so excited to be his first.

First and only , because I would never let him slip through my fingers.

“Sure. Would you… like to see what I do with the teeth?” I whisper as we head to the Winter Emporium.

His eyes go wide, and he steps closer, about to touch my chest when a group of teenagers walks past us, and he quickly hides his hands in his pockets, blushing the prettiest shade of pink. “Yes…”

I chuckle to myself. He’ll love it.

I lead him to the shop and promise I won’t be long as I help Owen with stragglers. Blake hangs out by the Christmas Pride display featuring our artisan rainbow baubles, and he looks so thoughtful as he picks up a small statue of Santa in a Love is Nice T-shirt and a rainbow flag in his hand.

“Isn’t he just stunning?” I whisper to Owen, not even caring about today’s sales numbers. I love Blake’s serious expression. It goes with his dark humor, which I absolutely adore.

“He’s definitely your type,” Owen tells me with a smirk, and I have to roll my eyes, because he likes nerdy boys with hearts of gold, who are so very different from my skittish deer.

“I’ll remind myself what I like about him the moment you step outside.”

“Aaand this is my cue to go,” Owen says with a snort and steps out from behind the counter. “I’m watching the Star Wars Christmas Special with Adam.”

I shake my head at him, but he waves at both me and Blake before disappearing outside.

I notice Blake glancing into the street as I lock up, but when I approach him, he offers me a smile.

“I thought you’d never be done. ”

I grin at him and lead him through the shop, holding his hand. “Is that how much you can’t wait?”

He clears his throat. “Well, you did tell me you’ll show me what you do with the teeth. I’ll be the only one to know!”

I’m nervous he won’t like it, or that he’ll find me too weird, but I want him to know all of me. And he actually asked about it, wasn’t creeped out. That has to count for something.

“What if you get a taste for it and you’ll want to create your own crafts?” I tease as we walk into the storage room. His hand tightens at the back of my sweater, and he clears his throat. “I have a bear tooth pendant at home. Teeth don’t scare me,” he declares, but as I lead the way toward the hidden entrance into the lowest level of the basement, I can feel him stall.

I open the hidden door in the back of the wardrobe and extend my hand to him, but I’m getting tense. Does he still not trust me? After what I showed him? What I told him? After I let him out and all but offered him freedom on a platter by focusing on the falling tree?

The muscles at the sides of his jaw twitch as his dark brows lower further, but he keeps his distance from the door. “I… it’s so cold down there.”

“Blake? Sweetie? I didn’t let you out just to put you back down there. You’re safe with me. But that’s where my craft room is.” I clear my throat, deflated. “We can see it another time if you don’t want to go.”

Though it’s clear to me why he might be hesitating and I don’t like it one bit.

He licks his lips, staring down the narrow flight of stairs leading to the bowels of my home. I can see the exact moment he makes his decision when he swallows and takes a deep breath before grabbing my hand with his warm fingers. “I need to see it.”

His hand is slender, but his grip is strong, as if he’s seeking reassurance, and I’m more than happy to give it.

I lead the way down feeling like a winner. He trusts me. I showed him who I am today on our date. My creative side when decorating cookies, how playful I can be at the ice rink, and that I’m willing to try new things when we sampled boar paté. Now, he’ll get to know all of me.

He’s silent and tense when we pass the cell in which I held him, but past it is my workshop, and as I switch on the light, revealing my kingdom, he squeezes my hand more firmly.

The space is extensive, as I gathered many tools here over the years. A large table of raw wood occupies one side while my finished trophies stand on a shelf opposite the work space.

“It’s a bit messy, sorry, I wasn’t expecting a guest,” I say, leading him inside. I’m feeling a bit vulnerable, as though I’m letting him touch my beating heart without gloves, but a part of me knows he’ll be gentle. I can see it in his eyes that deep down he’s very sensitive.

Blake steps toward the shelf full of large snow globes with wooden bottoms just as I switch on the lights illuminating my work. His jaw goes slack with recognition, and he looks back at me, pointing to the lone car standing in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by naked trees and snow, a human head displayed on the hood and wrapped with a red ribbon.

“The George Howe murder,” Blake says in a breathy voice before examining the other pieces in my collection. “Iris Shakti. And Donald Robson. You made these?” he asks excitedly and rubs his chin, shifting his weight. “What is it? Wood? Resin? 3D print? ”

“Yes, I make them. They’re cast in resin for pieces that are unique and some elements, like the car, I bought. They’re the kind of miniatures I can’t exactly put in the tiny town in the shop.” My heart beats faster at the fascination in his eyes. “Each one represents an official Christmas Killer murder. So the copycat isn’t included and the like. And I even have one for the killing in 1912, but there’s no snow in it because—let me show you.”

I pick up the Howe one and hand it to Blake. When he looks at it with adoration, I know I’ve found my person. He’s just slower to acknowledge how well we fit together. But that’s okay. I’ll give him time.

“Shake it,” I encourage Blake with a smile, and when he does, a flurry of white whirls in the liquid.

Blake frowns and sends me a curious glance, as if asking what he’s supposed to notice.

“That’s the teeth. I shave them into the tiniest flakes. I like to think that it’s poetic justice to take a predator’s teeth. Each of the globes contains the shavings from the specific kill.” I point to the shelf as his eyes widen.

“Oh. My. God,” he utters and shakes the globe again, marvelling at the spiralling motion of the shavings. “That’s so—”

Cool? Creative? Morbid?

Air leaves Blake’s lungs as he puts the globe down with the care it deserves as a one-of-a-kind artefact. “Those are the best trophies in the history of serial killings.”

I stand taller, filled with pride. “Thank you! They take a lot of time and effort to make. But I get to relive all the details whenever I handle them. Come, I’ll show you the other trinkets,” I say excitedly and pull on his hand, leading him to my table, where teeth are carefully arranged on a steel tray. “They’re the copycat’s, I’ve been experimenting with making them into a tiny ornament.” I hand him a magnifying glass so he can see the details of my carvings. “They’re supposed to be snowman heads, but I’ll add the carrot noses when I’m done linking them all with a chain.”

“Oh, wow,” Blake utters, resting his elbows on the table as he manoeuvres the magnifying glass to see every little detail. He’s so focused he doesn’t know how tempting his ass looks when he pushes back his hips, and I don’t plan on making it known. But eventually, he rises to face me, and I place my unfinished project on a cabinet by the wall, where it can’t be as easily pushed off.

“You are an artist! You should take commissions. I mean, not with teeth, obviously, but maybe custom snow globes?”

I laugh, overjoyed with his approval. The way he looks at me makes me want to eat him alive. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you like them. Even my grandpa, he… I think he liked that it kept me busy and away from mischief, but he didn’t get it. I never fully fit in. People think I do only because they don’t know all of me.” I grab his hand, because I feel he might actually understand, and his fingers entwine with mine, bringing my heart to palpitations.

“I never really belonged with any group either. You have friends in town at least. And Owen,” Blake tells me and rubs his nape, as if he were embarrassed about being lonely.

And he’s not wrong. Being a part of the world around me brings me peace, makes me feel less alone, but it’s not the same as being truly seen. I meet his eyes and pull him closer. He’s not afraid to be here with me. He’s come down here despite the danger I pose.

“It’s like other people are stars, but I’m a black hole. We’re in the same universe, but we are not alike. ”

Blake nods, and his lips quiver so beautifully I lean closer, my hands resting on the table on either side of him. In the glow of the lamp above, his skin looks so alive, so flushed and ripe, and when he doesn’t try to push me away, my mouth finds his, and we both gasp.

The kiss is an answer to insistent needs that have been gnawing at me all day, and when I push him harder against the table, he sits on it, opening his thighs like a good boy.

Desire pools in my balls, but I take my time and slide my arms around him, exploring his mouth with my tongue. He’s so sweet, still smelling of eggnog and the outside world.

If I’m a black hole, I will pull in this starshine boy until he’s all mine.

His hands sliding up my back tell me all I need to know about his curiosity in me. Blake is eager, his legs open, like his mouth, and I indulge with my eyes closed. If he’s about to use the scalpel I use for carving to slit my throat, then so be it, I’ll die happy.

But no, both his arms settle around me, and he crosses his ankles on the small of my back, moaning when I slide my tongue along his, deeper inside his mouth. He’s rocking his hips now, already steaming up with desire, his lusty body ripe for plucking, but just as I squeeze his thigh and am about to open his pants, he frantically twists his face away.

“I’m… sleepy,” he utters.

I place my hand on the table by his thighs and take a deep breath against his cheek. Maybe it’s this space. While he might appreciate my art, it’s possible he doesn’t want to fuck here. Fair .

“What are you doing to me, Blake?” I mutter and shamelessly press my erection between his legs, just so he knows.

A shivery breath escapes his lips, but he’s already closing his legs, not wanting to let this go any further. “The same thing I’ve been doing every time you listened to my podcast and enjoyed the sound of my voice,” he says with a small smile before sliding off the table.

It turns me on so much that he knows what to say yet keeps me at arm’s length. He might be a virgin, but he’s no innocent. I can’t wait to make his composure fall apart.

“I jerked off to it once,” I offer to tease him. “Still wearing my balaclava, I imagined surprising you while you record an episode.”

The shiver going through his body is so obvious I notice it without touching him. His eyes glaze over. His lips part, as if he wants to taste my cock, and he squeezes his pec as he stares at me, visibly aroused by what I’ve just told him. Oh, does he like the idea of me jerking off to his voice? Me in a balaclava? Both? I so wish to find out.

We stew in tense silence, but eventually he snaps out of it and clears his throat.

“Sleep,” he tells me with a tense smile.

I smirk and make a gentlemanly gesture toward the door.