Grandma continues toward the house, and I trudge down the path to the guest cottage.
I know exactly what I need to do. If I can’t banish the Boogie Man back to wherever he’s come from, then I’ll have to prove to everyone that he exists.
On the outside, the cottage is a one-story dwelling a little larger than a garden shed. Tangled vines grow on its triangular roof with oversized grapes that hang down to the chamomile lawn.
I push its wooden door open and relax at the rush of familiar magic. The cottage is spacious on the inside with three stone-brick walls and one that consists entirely of windows that overlook the orchard that stretches down to the boundary.
To my immediate left is a room containing a bed large enough for two. It’s covered in the white quilt Grandma and I made when I was younger. There’s also a kitchenette of painted-white units, wooden worktops, and a wood-burner stove. Everything else in the cottage is either made of ash wood or upholstered in white. As prisons go, this one is unusually cozy.
A faint crack, followed by movement on the edge of my vision has my gaze darting toward the wall of windows. A huge, dark figure darts between the apple trees at the edge of the garden's boundary. My jaw clenches as he raises his palms and stretches his wings.
“I thought he only attacked at night!”
Wrapping my fingers around my pendant, I storm out through the front door, around the back of the cottage, and through the orchard. Sunlight filters down through the canopy of apple trees, forming pretty patterns on the ground.
Leaf litter crunches and twigs crack underfoot. I’m too pissed off to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings because the Boogie Man pulls back his shoulders and adopts a stance like he’s our landlord, demanding the rent.
“Why did you hurt my cousin?” I snap.
The corners of his full lips pinch with distaste. “She helped you set a trap, did she not?”
“You wouldn’t have gotten caught in it if you hadn’t tried to steal my underwear. What the hell do you do with it, anyway?”
He smirks. “Hand over your knickers if you want a demonstration.”
Heat flares across my cheeks. I step back, my heart pounding. “You’re not just a psychopath. You’re disgusting.”
“Tell me something, Alienor,” he says in a low growl that I feel against my nipples. “Why were you sleeping naked last night? Is it because you knew I would be a captive audience? You gave me quite the show.”
My mouth goes dry, and the pulse between my legs pounds. I squeeze my thighs together, trying not to feel anything but revulsion for this beautiful monster.
“How did the conversation switch from your attack on Aggie to your perversions?” I ask.
His smirk morphs into a full grin. “Did you ever check your underwear? I left you several salty deposits.”
My jaw drops, and I flounder for a sassy retort. All I keep thinking about is him pressed up against the barrier of the trap, holding my underwear to his nose as he strokes himself.
“We’re not having this conversation,” I say.
The Boogie Man stands beneath the canopy of a tree with dappled light shining down on his sculpted chest. The shadows accentuate the dips and contours of his abs, which tighten and loosen with his heavy breaths. Reluctantly, I force my gaze up his chest to meet his malicious, green eyes.
I’ve said this before, but he’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Of course, he is. It has to be a glamor designed to lure me in. The moment I let down my guard, he’ll transform into a monster.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
The corners of his eyes crinkle, making my breath catch. “Your heart.”
“I could never love someone so violent.”
The Boogie Man tilts his head and gazes down at me as though I’ve said something amusing. “It’s not your love that I seek.” He raises a hand with black-tipped fingers that end in claws. “I wish to tear out your beating heart from your delectable body and crush it in my fingers.”
“Why?” I say through a gasp.
“You know why.” He steps toward me and presses both palms against the invisible barrier.
On instinct, I skitter back. “If it’s revenge you want, I’m the wrong woman. Just because my mother named me after your wife—”
“You. Are. Alienor,” he snarls. “I don’t know how you rebirthed yourself, but you look exactly as you did when we first wed.”