“No. We lose contact, usually only for a brief moment, upon entering the human realm. But you cannot go to your work.”

  “Oh, and why is that?” I ask sarcastically as I butter toast. I should probably ask if he wants something to eat, but I’m afraid the answer might be yes, and that his meal is my soul. So instead, I’m the rude hostess my mother would be flabbergasted by.

  “Because I am not meant to be in your world for this long. If I don’t get back within a couple of days, I may never be able to return. My power… it would be gone.”

  “And is that such a bad thing?” I ask, genuinely curious as I sip my black coffee and lean against the countertop.

  He rounds the corner, flicking off the light switch as he enters the kitchen and takes up a spot along the counter opposite me. “Yes. It would devastate the beings of my land. I would no longer be their leader. I would no longer be me.”

  “I guess I can understand that. I don’t know what I would be without my shop.”

  “What kind of establishment do you run?” he asks. He seems so different from last night. Last night, he was scary, looming over my bed, moving at the speed of light. But here, in my small kitchen, he fills the space, but not in a bad way. It’s not intimidating. Instead, he seems… casual. And oddly, talking to him, like this, doesn’t feel strange. At least not as odd as I’d think talking to a real-life Boogeyman would be.

  “I’m a florist and I own a store called Petal Pushers. I’ve loved flowers since I was a child, fascinated by their colors, structure, and just the sheer variety in which they come. I love being able to combine them in new ways. It’s a fun way to create and express myself, as well as the feelings of others, through a living medium.” My mind wanders back to my childhood as I continue to speak. “My grandmother was the one who started teaching me their different names when I was quite young. I would visit and we would walk through the garden together, looking at how the flowers supported each other or how they created a new picture every time.” He listens intently as I ramble on, remembering a time that feels like so long ago now. I don’t know the last time I talked about my grandmother to someone. She’s been gone for years now, having passed away from a heart attack; even so, I still miss her dearly, and there are days when I wonder what she would think of my work now. I hope she will be proud of me and how far I’ve come.

  “She sounds like she was a wonderful person. I can’t say the same for mine.”

  The thought of him, this large beast of a mythical being, having some kind of family, let alone a grandmother, is borderline comical.

  Chapter 7

  Basil

  “What’s so funny?” I ask, watching the corner of her mouth quirk up before she covers it shyly with her hand. My gaze lingers on the space where her lips should be, aching to see that little smirk again.

  “The thought of you, with a little old lady grandma,” she replies through giggles. That sound. It’s magical. Bouncy, light, and filled with joy. Everything I am not. And yet, I can’t seem to tear myself away. As she giggles again, I realize I don’t want to.

  This blasted portal business may have brought me here, but I am by no means sorry about it. There are worse things than being trapped in a tiny apartment with a gorgeous woman.

  “My grandmother was a spitfire. She was the leader before my father and was the most feared Boogeywoman in the land. When she passed and my father took over, it was a great loss to our community, but she taught me everything I know and is who I continue to aspire to be as a leader.”

  Iris’ eyes find mine as she dabs at a corner of her eye before she edges a little closer, closing the too vast distance between us. She may have been frightened last night, but now, I sense no fear. Not complete comfort, mind you, but she doesn’t want to run away from me anymore.

  After a prolonged moment of silence, Iris clears her throat, downs the rest of her coffee, and places the mug on the counter. I don’t miss the way her eyes trail over my body before she steps away.

  “I need to finish getting ready for work.” She moves to the entrance of the kitchen, pulling on the hem of her shirt, trying to cover the wonderful curves underneath.

  My chest tightens. She can’t leave. “Wait. I thought you agreed to stay here. To help me.”

  Iris spins, facing me again, her arms crossing over her chest. “No. I never said I’d stay. You have powers. Apparently, really strong ones. Use them.”

  I swear my jaw audibly pops open. This is a very different Iris from the one I startled awake last night. No longer the frightened flower cowering in her bed, she holds herself up straight, looking like a force to be reckoned with. In a flash, I am on the other side of her, stopping her midstride. Speed is only one of my strengths, and I plan to use every power within me to get her to stay and help. I pull myself up to my full height, my horns brushing against the ceiling, and chest puffing out as my arms extend, allowing my hands to land on the doorframe. My talon-like nails tap, tap, tap on the wall above her head.

  Her eyes narrow as she looks up at me, searching for a soul she’ll never find. She may be stronger than I initially thought, but I’ve also seen that kindness within. How she cares. And as I stand before her, her scent overwhelms my senses, making me deflate. She is destined to be mine, and that means I can do all the showboating I want, but I will never, and I mean never, harm her.

  “I am a tiny human. One you could end before I could even think of running away. I am but an ant to your giant boot. What the fuck could I do to help you? Also, I have a business to run. Who do you expect to do that while I’m here playing ‘let’s find the portal’ with you?” She asks becoming more and more angry with each statement and poking my chest with her index finger as she finishes.

  “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

  “Gah!!” she huffs, turning around before slapping her hands on my chest. She pushes against me, but I don’t budge. She repositions her hands and moves her feet back, trying to gain better purchase before trying again, and I still don’t move an inch.

  “Seriously. Adorable.”

  Stopping, she grunts, brushing loose strands of hair away from her face. “Fine. But I need to call in to let my assistant know I’m going to be sick today. You get one day. One day of my time to figure this shit out. But…”

  “But what?” I ask hesitantly. I am not one to barter for the benefit of humans, and given the change in her demeanor from last night to this morning, I’m guessing she’s going to suggest something ridiculous.

  “You get one day of my help, and in exchange, I get to ask anything I want, and you agree to answer honestly.”

  “That’s it?” There’s no way she just wants me to answer questions. I threatened to take the souls of everyone she loves. This is not even a remotely fair trade.

  “That’s it. Deal?”

  “Deal.” I extend my hand to shake on it. She grasps my hand in hers, and it’s like a permanent thread weaves between us, sewing us together for eternity. “Thank you.” I don’t think I’ve ever said those words before, especially not to a human. It feels… nice. Stepping to the side, I let her pass, but remain close by. Even though I want to trust her, my instincts tell me not to let her get too far. Whether that’s because I think she’ll run or because of this innate pull to her that I seem to be experiencing, it remains to be seen. Either way, I’m not letting her out of my sight.

  To be honest, she has a point about her ability to facilitate my entry back to Hell. I’m sure I could figure it out on my own. It’s not like I haven’t opened and closed many a portal in my day, but I’m certainly not going to tell her that.

  Instead, I sit back and watch as she takes out her little computing device, setting it on her lap as she sits on the sofa, plump legs crisscrossed, showcasing those succulent, juicy thighs that I would love to stuff my head between…

  Whoa. Where did that come from?

  Sure, Iris is every bit as beautiful as she is charming and feisty, and I find myself eager to learn more about her. But I can’t think of the last time I thought of someone else in such a way. Of course, there are available prospects back home. And I could have my choice of any of them. They all practically fall at my feet as it is. If I were to invite them into my bedchambers, well, they would be alight with delight. But not one of them in the last hundred or so years has tantalized me the way Iris does.

  She barely knows me. I threatened her multiple times. And threatened her family and all those she cares about, despite that not being the most ideal way to capture someone’s preferred attention. Yet, here she is, pleasantly sitting near me, deep in thought.

  Her hands fly over the keys, typing things I am unaware of. Her breathing is even and soft. She’s not the least bit fearful. It’s almost as if she feels comfortable around me, which is strange, as I don’t think anyone has ever felt comfortable around me. Not even my assistant or family. There’s always some kind of order or hierarchy they are trying to keep, so no one ever truly relaxes.

  She leans back, linking her fingers together before lifting them above her head, where she flips them palms up and stretches out her arms as she arches her back, letting those pert nipples poke through her soft top. “Okay, so Vera has been notified, and extra support has been called in for her. Now, how the hell do we figure out how to get you home?”

  Chapter 8

  Iris

  The quicker we can figure out how to open his little portal thing again, the quicker this Boogeyman can be out of my hair. I really couldn’t afford to miss today. The shop is packed with orders, and with a massive wedding coming up this weekend, we really need all the help we can get.

  Looking over at him, I wonder if I can convince him to go to the shop instead, so at least we can try to accomplish both tasks at the same time. However, I’m not sure how I would explain his horns. Or the dark grey skin. Maybe an early Halloween costume? No, no one will believe that. But then again, Hollybrook is bursting with all sorts of theater people; he could blend right in.

  I also have no idea how I would explain to Vera why I suddenly came in after profusely apologizing in the email, letting her know I had an emergency come up. Heaven knows the last time I called in sick. I’m so attached to Petal Pushers that I usually pop in even on the rare day off that I get. It’s part of the expectation of being an owner. I’m always there. Always available.

  As I start typing random search terms into the browser, no idea what I’m looking for or what I expect to find, a part of me thinks that maybe being stuck in my apartment with the weirdly attractive mythical creature could be exactly what I need. “So, uh, do you eat anything other than souls?” I ask, trying another query:

  How to get a boogeyman home?

  He comes to sit near me, opting for the floor instead of the sofa. With the blinds closed, he can move about the space more freely, not having to worry about the morning sun. When the afternoon sun hits the big window, though, that may complicate things.

  “I have never tried anything else,” he responds.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I have never had a need. Your people feel enough fear to help us subsist. Add in the souls we consume on a nightly basis, and we have no problem with survival.” His response is honest and even-keeled. No emotion exists behind those words. No remorse for stealing the essence of so many. It’s just a fact to him.

  “Do you not question why you need souls? Or the impact of what you do on those you leave behind?”

  “Do you question the impact of your food choices? Or transportation? Or technology? Or anything else you need in your day-to-day life?” he responds, again with no emotion behind his words.

  “Touché.”

  He brings a knee up and rests his forearm on top as he turns his head to face me and says, “We do what we need to survive.”

  And to survive, he threatened me and all of my loved ones. Not exactly the most romantic offer I’ve had, but I’ll give him points for creativity.

  “Well, if I’m going to survive this day, I’m going to need food at some point.” I place my laptop on the couch and get up, going to the drawer in the kitchen with all the take-out menus. “We don’t eat souls here, but we do have food that can heal it. Have a look through and decide what you want for lunch later,” I say, tossing the stack on the floor beside him before returning to where I was seated.

  He shuffles through the menus as I try another search:

  Boogeymen

  This brings up the lore of the Boogeyman. I scan through summaries discussing the not-so-mythical creature, their penchant for frightening children to behave, and potential kidnappings. I glance over at him, trying to see him through the history of his people, but all I can see is the strong jaw that wiggles ever-so-slightly as he focuses, the way his hands seem to caress the paper as if it were fragile threads, ready to break at the slightest touch.

  I’m not so completely out of it that I can’t appreciate that, while unconventional in appearance, he is quite attractive. His arms are strong. His body is broad and well-cared for. Not that I was looking too hard, but I am pretty sure there were at least eight well-defined abs there. Add in the horns, and he certainly presents as an intimidating figure. But even so, he’s not hard to look at. If I had run into him at a bar somewhere, and you know, didn’t think I was losing my mind at a mythical creature being real, I wouldn’t say no to him buying me a drink.

  I’ve also noticed that when he talks, he seems to do it with great care. He’s selective about what he discloses and only wants to give the information that is necessary. Which makes sense when, according to the lore, he spends his life in the shadows. Sharing too much personal information would likely be harmful. It would make him a target to others. Especially if he is as powerful as he says. I wouldn’t be surprised if there have been attempts to overthrow him before.

  “This,” he says, handing her a menu for the Vietnamese place a few blocks away.

  “Good choice.”

  “It had the most of these things. I assume that is good.”

  I laugh lightly. “Those are peppers. It means the food is spicy.”

  “Is that good?” he asks, his voice sounding almost concerned.

  I smile at him. “I think so.” I place the menu beside me and look back at my computer. “I’ll order it in a bit. They aren’t open for a couple of hours, but it’s good that we have a plan.”

  “Yes,” he responds, glancing at me before turning to stare ahead. “A plan is good.”

  “Alright, with that sorted, how do we open this portal thing of yours? The internet isn’t exactly being helpful in answering how to get a Boogeyman to go home.”

  “That is a good question. My usual method has not worked.”

  “And what is your usual method?” I ask, wondering how often he actually has to open portals. Which then leads me to thinking about how many other bedrooms he’s been in over the years, sparking a small flame of jealousy.

  Whoa, there.

  Jealous?

  Yes. Jealous. The flaming green ball rolls inside me, twisting just enough to let me know it’s there. But I barely know him. What do I have to be jealous about?

  Before I have time to examine this new feeling fully, he saunters back to my bedroom. Quickly following him, I watch as Basil stands next to my bed, his brow furrowed in concentration. He extends his hands in front of him, his wrists pushed together, while his hands open and curl toward each other as if he is holding a ball of power between them. His arms rotate, spinning the invisible ball in his hands as he says, “Open up.”

  Definitely thought that was going to be more intense than it was.

  Nothing happens. No secret doors open, and no light glows from under my bed. I don’t really know what I expected, but I thought maybe there would be more to it than just saying open up.

  “That’s it?” I ask, covering my mouth with my sleeve to hide the laugh trying to break through.

  Basil turns, his eyes wide and mouth gaping. “What do you mean, that’s it? You just witnessed magical power and unprecedented strength.”

  I can’t help it. I let the laugh loose, keeling over as I wheeze. When I’m finally able to breathe again, I reply, “That was magic. All you did was hold your hands out like you were playing basketball, and then told it to open up. If that is your best example of magic and your unprecedented strength, it’s no wonder it didn’t work.” Turning around, I wave him off with one hand and sit back on the couch, still giggling to myself.

  Basil stomps over to me and collapses back onto the floor, looking dejected.

  “Look,” I say, leaning over and putting a hand on his shoulder. It’s surprisingly warm, like holding a fresh cup of coffee. And the texture is rough under my fingers. Not jagged, like I would expect, seeing all the ridges on his skin, but more like a well-worn piece of bark or a freshly cut piece of wood. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry. But given all you’ve talked about, I thought there would be… more.”

  “There should have been. The portal should have opened. There should have been a glowing entrance for me to go into. Instead, nothing.”

  “I could see that.” I rub his shoulder in what I hope is a reassuring gesture. He doesn’t balk away from my touch, so I assume he doesn’t absolutely hate it. “So what do we do?”

  “I don’t know. I have never had this problem.”

  “Okay. What would you tell someone to do? Imagine you are one of your underlings. They are stuck in the human realm, with no way home. What would you tell them to do to try and fix it?”

  His head falls back onto the cushion behind him as his eyes close. I watch his chest expand as he takes in a deep breath and then as it contracts while he releases it. It becomes so mesmerizing just watching him breathe, seeing the muscles under his skin work, that I forget what I even asked by the time he answers.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7