Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy) (18 page)

The Man’s mouth and the arm he had around her waist dropped. He stepped back, his arctic eyes probing deep into hers. “Do you wish for death?”

“Whether we want it to or not, it still comes,” Lacey replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “But most of us don’t get to request when and how it takes us.” Lifting her chin, she took a step forward. “Do it now and make it as quick and painless as possible.”

He stared at her, long and hard. “I am not going to kill you.”

The confession bolstered Lacey’s courage. “Then why the hell are you still here? Get the fuck out of my house.”

The Man’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as his top lip curled back. “Careful,” he snarled.

Lacey’s heart jackknifed and then began beating so hard and fast she was sure it was going to explode. A series of chills, as if she’d been shot with thousands of tiny pins made of ice, turned her body into one giant goosebump. Her throat closed up and every drop of saliva in her mouth evaporated. “Stop trying to scare me,” she whispered in a strained voice. “It’s not working.”

With a smirk she would’ve found maddening had she not been on the verge of fainting out of fear, The Man placed his hand over his heart. He rapidly patted his chest in time to her heartbeat as he slowly backed away.

I know, is what his eyes told her.
I know.

Reaching the window, he climbed out without breaking her gaze. After a short pause, he closed the window and then disappeared into the night.

Lacey’s legs folded like an accordion and her butt hit the floor hard. She inhaled until her lungs could hold no more and then forcefully ejected the air. With each breath the fuzziness inside her head dissipated a little more. She placed her shaking hand on her chest and swore she could feel her heart slamming against it.

Everything between the moment The Man’s hands had grabbed her waist to him leaving through her bedroom window came rushing back all at once, the scenes running through her mind like a movie on fast forward. She giggled. Replayed everything once more, only much slower this time. A second giggle turned into peals of laughter that had her rolling back and forth on the floor like a crazy person.

Which, considering what she’d just done, was obvious.

Call the looney bin, Clint, and tell ‘em to get my straight jacket ready. Won’t be long now.

By the time Lacey had sobered her cheeks were streaked with tears, she felt like she was on fire and her stomach hurt as if she’d done a thousand sit-ups.

And she’d never felt better. Never felt more…

Alive.

The water flowed over his head and down his body, washing away the gobs of hair conditioner and thick layer of body wash all at once. He took a deep breath and then cursed as the mystery girl’s scent filled his nose.

He could not get rid of it.

It is all in your mind, my child.

“No,” Zane growled, resting his forehead against the tiled wall. “No.” 

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he recalled just how close he had come to losing control with the girl. After what had happened to him physically, what she had made happen, the desire to feast upon her body had all but consumed him. The temptation to forcibly take her had been damn near impossible to resist. To silence her smart mouth with his own, ravaging it with his lips, tongue and teeth until the only sound that came from between her pink lips was a gasp for breath.

It is all in your mind—

“No, goddamn it!” Zane roared as he pounded his fists against the wall, cracking two shower tiles. “I know what I fucking felt!”

He looked down at his flaccid cock. Wrapped his hand around it. Squeezed and pulled as hard as he could. He felt nothing. Not a mother fucking thing. When he had touched the girl, however, he had felt a stirring in his groin that had been almost as painful as it had been pleasurable. And in spite of the fact that he had not been able to smell her blood or consumed with hunger and the anticipation of feeding, his cock had grown longer, harder and thicker than it ever had before.

“I know what I felt,” Zane repeated in a hoarse whisper as he turned off the water. “I know.”

My child—

Zane put up a mental block as he whipped open the shower curtain. A sudden thought made his arm jerk, tearing the black vinyl fabric free from the black rings attaching it to the black bar. He threw it on the floor, sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

The sensation of the girl’s knee slamming into his groin had been excruciating. Blinding. Nauseating. If she could cause physical pain, could she also cause actual damage? And if so, would it be limited to what she could do herself, or would a weapon wielded by her be as effective? He would have nothing to worry about if the former was the case, but the latter...

Zane raked his hands through his wet hair and then put his face in them. How was he supposed to learn the answers to those questions without putting him and his family at risk? He could not simply hand the girl a weapon and then attack, forcing her to fight in order to learn whether or not she was capable of harming him. And leaving town was not an option with the possibility that there was a human alive who possessed the power to actually kill him.

Zane’s loud, shallow breaths kept time with the hard, fast pounding of his heart. Leaping out of the shower with bellow of rage, he struck out as hard as he could, sending pieces of drywall and powdery residue flying into the air as his fist punched through the bathroom wall. He yanked out his hand and then whirled around and gave the opposite wall the same makeover.

For the first time in his life, he felt absolutely powerless. He did not like it...

At-fucking-all.

Unable to move even though her arms were not bound, she could only watch as the gauzy nightgown drifted down her legs to pool at her feet. Her gaze shifted to the sea of orange circling the small pedestal of earth they stood upon as the man’s  hands returned to her now bare breasts. She didn’t think the bubbling lava below would feel as hot as his touch.

“
I will never let you go,” he growled in her ear as his thumbs and index fingers squeezed and pulled her taut nipples.

“
Why...me?” she panted, her eyes rolling back.

He cupped her aching sex. “You are special.”

“No. I’m...nothing.”

“
You are everything...to me.”

He slipped his long, thick middle finger between her plump, wet folds. She gasped, her knees buckling when he touched her swollen, throbbing nub.

“I got you,” he murmured against her neck as he tightened his hold around her waist. “Forever.”

“
Forever,” she breathed as his soft, warm lips kissed a path up to her ear.

“
Lift your arms and clasp her hands behind my neck,” he ordered before pulling her earlobe into the heat of his mouth.

She quickly obeyed, fearful he may stop touching her if she didn’t.

“Good girl,” he whispered in a husky voice. “Now look at me.”

Again she obeyed, her half-shuttered gaze slowly traveling up his bare chest, neck, face, to his lightning eyes. “Good girl.”

A bead of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose and landed between her glistening, heaving breasts, its heat revealing its path down her tightly clenched stomach, over her mound and to his
moving hand.

“
Oh God,” she whimpered, arching her back as he increased the pressure and speed of his touch. The tension within wound her up tighter and tighter, like
a mechanical toy.

“
Come,” he demanded. “Now.”

She cried out as what felt like a bomb went off inside of—

Lacey’s eyes snapped wide open as she exploded into a millions pieces. Unable to register anything except the powerful contractions that had seized control of her body, she stared blankly at the ceiling, her mouth working soundlessly. 

All too soon the heavenly spasms ended and Lacey’s rigid body went limp. As she lay there blinking rapidly and panting heavily with her hands fisted around the comforter, she pushed through the sleep-smog preventing her from making sense out of what the hell had just happened.

Or rather why
he
had been the one to give not only her first orgasm but also her first wet dream.

Every time their paths crossed it was intense, so she could understand dreaming about him after those occurrences. But why, when she had positively no desire to be intimate with him, was every damn dream of a sexual nature?

Lacey gritted her teeth as she wondered if there was such a thing as a dream exorcist. She was in desperate need of one ... that and a psychiatrist.

Climbing out of bed, she cringed in remembrance of her behavior last night. Did she subconsciously have a death wish? She couldn’t think of any other explanation.

After peeling off her damp pajamas, Lacey shambled across the bedroom on trembling legs that felt like rubber, almost tripping over Casper who was weaving in and out of them with a plaintive mew. “Shower, then food,” she told the kitten as she closed the bedroom door behind her.

When she stepped into the kitchen ten minutes later and saw her father standing at the coffeepot, she yelped. “Jesus! You damn near gave me a heart attack!”

Clint smiled. “Maybe I should wear a bell?”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“It’s Saturday, kiddo.”

Lacey frowned. “It is? Already?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Disappointed that it’s the weekend? Have you been sniffing the ink on those fliers again?”

“You seemed to be in a hurry to get...somewhere.”

“Take a look around,” she snapped with a wave of her hand, “there’s nowhere to go.”

Lacey grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filled it up with coffee that was as black as the man’s hair. Heat crept into her cheeks upon realizing that her father had been in the house during—oh, God, had she cried out or screamed or something?

“You look a little flushed, kiddo.”

Lacey almost choked on the gulp of coffee she’d just taken, which went down like battery acid. Not looking at him, she took another sip. When Clint placed two twenty dollar bills on the counter in front of her she did strangle.

“What’s...that...for?” she asked in between sputtering coughs.

“Just in case you need something while I’m gone this weekend.”

“Gone?” Lacey blinked. “This weekend?”

“I’ll be in Harrisonburg—”

“You’re going to be gone for the entire weekend?”

“It’s a big town, kiddo. I really need an entire week but I have to work with what I got, you know?”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve become quite familiar with the concept.”

Lacey tossed the full mug of coffee into the sink. The liquid splashed onto the apricot wall, dotting it brown. An improvement, she thought, not bothering to wipe it off.

“I’ll be back late Sunday night so—”

“What if the house catches on fire? Or I hurt myself? Or...or someone...I don’t know...breaks in and tries to kill me?”

Clint actually had the nerve to chuckle. “You’ll be fine, kiddo.”

Her throat tightened. “You really don’t give a damn about me, do you?” 

Clint sighed heavily. “Lacey, please—I don’t have time for this.”

“Of course you don’t,” she said in a strained voice, “the only thing you have time for is chasing that bitch whore.” 

Anger flashed in her father’s eyes a second before his open palm connected with her cheek. There was a bright flash and then a stinging, heated sensation. Her mouth fell open, hand flew up to her face.

Clint’s eyes widened. “Oh God! Lacey, I’m so—” 

She ran out of the kitchen before he could finish his meaningless apology. Hot tears burst from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks as she flew up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She slammed her bedroom door and then started punching and kicking it. “I hate you! Do you hear me? I fucking hate you!”

When her hands and feet could take no more, Lacey ran over to her bed, collapsing face-down upon it. “I hate you,” she sobbed into her pillow, “and I hope you never come back.”

And this time, she meant every fucking word.

Lacey sat bolt upright, shocked into consciousness by a piercing, repetitive beep. She slammed her fist down on top of the alarm clock and when that didn’t silence it she sent it flying to the floor with a hard, fast sweep of her arm.

The sound continued.

With a frustrated grunt, Lacey leaned over the bed, grabbed the cord and yanked it from the wall. She fell back, her hands flying up to cover her face as she whimpered. School was the last thing she wanted to face while mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted.

The weekend had been the worst one of her life. After what had happened with her father and The Man, she’d needed to escape from everything for just a little while and so she’d taken several of Clint’s sleeping pills, which had knocked her out.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped the dreams.

She’d dreamed that Amelia was lounging on a tropical beach, sipping a fruity drink that had a little umbrella in it as she read one of her self-help books, laughing at the picture of Lacey and Clint she used for a bookmark after each page.

She’d dreamed that her father had sold her to the highest bidder at an auction so he’d have more money to search for Amelia.

She’d dreamed that The Man had kidnapped her so she could be his sex slave.

But the dream she’d found the most distressing was the one where Sammy was a ghost who needed her help to cross over. So realistic had it been that she could still feel his anguish, hear his wretched cries for help, see the fear contorting the boyish features of his face.

And that dream haunted her all morning: in the shower, on the ride to school, in the office where she picked up her second unexcused tardy, down the hall as she sprinted to English Literature.

“Close the—” Mr. Giles, a.k.a. The Cryptkeeper, paused in mid-sentence to release a lengthy yawn as Lacey entered the room just as the second bell signaling the start of class rang. Dragging a hand down his face, he mumbled ‘Bloody hell’  before twirling his finger at the door. “—that thing.”

Lacey did so while the teacher proceeded to make himself comfortable in the wooden swivel chair behind his desk, lips coming together to make a wet, smacking sound as he shook his head hard after another yawn.

Turning around, the rubber soles of Lacey’s shoes squeaked against the polished floor as she came to an abrupt stop, almost dropping her books. Sitting in the first row was Ghost Boy—

Only there wasn’t a single ghostly thing about him now. His skin had more color than hers, and the dark, sad eyes she hadn’t been able to forget were now as bright as a cloudless sky on a crisp spring morning and twinkled with what looked like merriment.

“Chivvy along, Miss Chase.”

Blinking rapidly, Lacey looked over her shoulder at Mr. Giles. “Huh?”

“In English that translates to
s
top gawking at Sammy and take a seat
,” he said, his forehead creasing as his bushy silver eyebrows knitted together.

Sleep and caffeine deprived, the teacher’s comment coupled with the snorts and chuckles from the other students was like squirts of gasoline on an already raging fire, and by the time Lacey reached the back of the classroom her blood was boiling. She slammed her books down on the desk and then shot heated looks at anyone watching as she took her seat. Every pair of eyes that she met promptly darted away—

Except Clark’s. Sprawled out in the seat behind and diagonal from Ghost Boy, he mouthed
Watch this
and then, after a quick glance at Mr. Giles—who appeared to be sleeping—removed a giant spitball from his mouth and then slung it at Ghost Boy’s head. 

A burst of prickly heat stung Lacey’s cheeks as Clark wagged his eyebrows at her. Slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, he turned away to elbow the gangly boy next to him who was pounding his fist against his knee.

Fury, the likes of which Lacey couldn’t ever recall feeling before, exploded within her as she eyed the soggy wad of paper stuck to one tip of Ghost Boy’s not-quite-a-Mohawk-anymore Mohawk.

With abnormally rapid breaths, Lacey snatched her books off her desk. As she stormed down the aisle her lips and hands began to tingle. When she reached the empty desk behind Ghost Boy she all but fell into the chair as a wave of dizziness crashed through her. She felt on the verge of fainting as she turned toward Clark, who must have spent hours soaking in the Axe cologne he was wearing . 

“Take it off his head,” she breathed, “or I’ll make you eat the fucking thing.”

“Oooh, I’m sooooooo scared,” he said, and then snorted laughter as he looked at the long-limbed boy beside him whose eyes were glued to Lacey’s heaving chest. “Forget it, Parker, those gotta be fake—with the size of those balls I’m thinkin’ that she must really be a he.”

“What’s the matter, Clark,” Lacey snarled, “still upset that Heather ditched you the other night for another man?”

Clark’s mouth fell open, his face turning as red as the cell phone he clutched tight in one gorilla paw at the string of gasps and snickers that followed Lacey’s comment. “Shut up, you stupid bitch!”

Mr. Giles sprang out of his chair—which crashed into the wall behind him—with a startled half-snort, half-grunt. “What’s going on here?!” His dinner plate sized eyes darted from student to student. He pointed at Ghost Boy. “You! What the bloody hell happened?!”

Ghost Boy shrugged. “I think someone farted.”

Lacey lost it as did everyone else, except for Clark. Howls of laughter echoed throughout the classroom as Mr. Giles ran around his desk to stand in front of it. “Quiet! Everyone, settle down!”

When Ghost Boy looked over his shoulder and smiled, Lacey’s laughter died a quick but far from painless death. Setting herself on the road to disaster, she said, “You have a spitball in your hair.”

His eyebrows and arms shot up. “Again?!” He swatted at his head like there was an angry swarm of bees around it. “Did I get it?”

Clearing her throat, Lacey nodded. 

“Cool.” His smile got even bigger. “Thanks.”

Don’t mention it, Lacey thought, looking down at her hands as trepidation washed over her in a icy wave that left her flesh pimpled.

What the hell had she been thinking getting involved like that? She was supposed to apologize for what she’d said the other day and that was it. Not come to his rescue. Not defend him in front of everyone. Now he probably thought they were best friends!

Lacey swallowed the groan creeping up her throat as she glanced at the clock behind Mr. Giles’ head. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized she had less than an hour to figure out some kind of damage control. 

Ignoring Ghost Boy didn’t work. Being mean didn’t either, not that she’d actually be able to channel her inner bitch now that it was painfully obvious that he was already dining from a plate full of crap, one that she refused to add another heaping, steamy scoop to.

Was there anything she could do or say to discourage him? If she started picking her nose and burping would he be grossed out or find it entertaining? If she told him she had a highly contagious disease would he be frightened or intrigued?

Lacey chewed on one of her ragged fingernails as the clock’s second hand ticked off the final minute of class. When it hit the thirty-second mark she leaped out of her chair. “Sorry,” she said to Mr. Giles who stood up to protest, “nature calls and if I wait for a hall pass you’re going to have one helluva mess to clean up!”

Lacey had just reached the door when she heard Ghost Boy excuse himself as well. 
No, no, no!

Taking
a deep breath as she stepped into the hallway, she turned to face him. “Look,” she began, keeping her tone soft and even, “I’m sorry about the other day. How I treated you, the things I said—both were uncalled for. BUT. I’m not looking to make friends...with
anyone
. So don’t go reading anything into what I did back there, okay? I hate assholes, no more and no less. Kapeesh?”

Ghost Boy stared at her with those beaming eyes for a long moment before his smiling lips parted. “Kapeesh,” he said in a voice that she only then realized sounded a lot deeper than it had a few days ago.

And then he simply walked away.

Lacey stared after him, beyond stunned by his transformation. And not just the physical one either, which was pretty damn impressive; he radiated health and even had muscles, which she could see straining against his tight black jeans and snug T-shirt.

But what was even more incredible was the change in his attitude. His head was held high as he glided down the hallway like he was floating on air. The timidness was gone. And he exuded happiness, which she couldn’t help but to envy.

What the hell had happened to him over the span of less than a week? Had he won the lottery? Been miraculously cured of what should have been a fatal disease?

Acid-like bile shot into Lacey’s throat. Grimacing, she swallowed it down, the thought that she had insulted his appearance while he’d been struggling with some kind of physical ailment made her feel like the worst human being to ever walk the earth. Only a monster would kick a person while they were down...

And only a monster would still have an appetite in spite of it all. But she couldn’t help it—she hadn’t eaten a thing in days and by the time lunch rolled around she was so damn hungry that notebook paper sprinkled with salt sounded appetizing.

Lacey dashed to the cafeteria line, close to salivating as she chose her meal: Popcorn shrimp, dinner roll, mashed potatoes with gravy, Brussel sprouts with cheese sauce and a tropical fruit salad. 

Next in line to pay, she ripped open her denim purse and peered inside. “Oh no,” she breathed, her heart skipping a beat as she dumped the contents on the counter. Her eyes darted over the items in front of her: A hair brush with most of the protective balls on top of the bristles missing. Several packs of cinnamon gum. Travel-size tissues. Winnie-the-Pooh Bear keychain. A mostly used tube of cherry-flavored chapstick, which didn’t taste like any cherry she’d ever eaten. But no Tigger change purse.

Lacey groaned when she realized that the stupid thing was probably still under her bed; Casper had knocked her purse on the floor that morning and then proceeded to use everything inside as a toy. 

Fuck. My. Life.

Feeling on the verge of screaming or crying or both, she stuffed the items back into her purse. She was about to storm off when Ghost Boy popped up in front of her. “Forget something?”

Lacey stared at him, hunger and frustration robbing her of the ability to speak. When he reached for his wallet, however, her voice was returned faster than an unwanted Christmas gift. “No. Absolutely, positively not.” 

Ghost Boy handed the cashier two crumpled one dollar bills and then picked up the tray. 

“Are you deaf? I said n—”

“Don’t read anything into this,” he interrupted, raising his eyebrows. “I hate seeing good food go to waste, no more and no less.”

Lacey’s mouth fell open. She blinked. Once, twice, five times. He’d actually had the balls to throw her own words back at her. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or pissed, ultimately deciding to be a little of both.

“Gonna get cold,”  Ghost Boy said, waving the tray under her nose. 

The delicious aroma of the hot food coupled with the gnawing sensation in her stomach broke Lacey’s resolve. She accepted the tray and was about to tell him she’d pay him back tomorrow when he dashed off without another word.

Lacey watched him go through the double doors leading to the outdoor picnic table area before she flopped down on the nearest empty chair. Shoving a handful of popcorn shrimp into her mouth, she noticed most of the jocks and cheerleaders, who crowded the two tables at the front of the cafeteria, staring at her. She opened her mouth wide, exposing the partially chewed food.

The girls—except for Brooke and Kimberly, who quickly looked away when their eyes met Lacey’s—wrinkled their pert noses and furrowed their expertly plucked brows before turning away.

The guys snorted laughter—except for Clark. Alone at the end of the table, he sat hunched over the red cell phone in front of him. Looking up at the sudden disruption, he threw a ominous glance in her direction—and then stood up.

Lacey inhaled a deep breath as Clark charged down the aisle in between the rows of tables.
This day just keeps getting better.

She exhaled forcefully when he reached her table. “Unless you want popcorn shrimp nose plugs, I suggest you leave me alone.”

“She said you’re full of shit,” he all but growled. “She didn’t go off with nobody.”

“He sure as hell didn’t look like nobody to me,” Lacey replied, and then arched a brow. “More along the lines of a Greek god or something.”

I didn’t just say that.

Lacey swallowed hard. Clearly starvation had forced her brain to break down its own neurons, resulting in substantial shrinkage.

It’s not brain damage, it’s the truth.

Her scalp prickled as she recalled how hard The Man’s body had felt—it really had been like running into a brick wall. What kind of muscles did that? 

Perfectly developed muscles, that’s what kind.