Maybe it’s still in the ground, exactly where I left him. Maybe the Boogie Man only created that hole to make me panic because a frantic victim is a vulnerable one.
My foot catches on a loose stepping stone.
That’s it.
The Boogie Man must have made the hole so I could trade my locket for the corpse or do something equally as desperate.
Something desperate like trying to seduce him.
I gulp, my throat still raw from sucking that huge cock.
“That was stupid,” I mutter under my breath.
If I had any sense, I would have run the moment he tossed away the stake. But by then, my stupid libido took control and convinced me to extract information through seduction.
Heat travels south, and the pulse between my thighs pounds almost as hard as it did when I was teasing myself to orgasm.
I continue walking down the stepping-stone path, faster this time, to rid my mind of those salacious memories.
The Boogie Man is a murderer, a monster, and a menace. Keeping him around will only lead to a painful death—either at his claws, the executioner’s blade, or the hangman’s noose.
My pace quickens, and I break into a jog that doesn’t stop until I reach the library’s top level.
I stand in front of the door leading to the restricted section, my heart pounding.
“This has got to work,” I whisper over and over until the words become a blur.
Rapid heartbeats resound through my chest as I reach into my bag and extract Norbert’s bracelet. It works the same way as my locket—a store of enchantments, currency, and identification.
I shouldn’t be able to use it without his express permission, but since he died while wearing the bracelet, they no longer belong to him.
The first one slips on with ease and blasts my forearm with cold magic as it tries to connect with my power. I lean against the wall, my stomach roiling as remnants of Norbert’s death magic mingle with mine.
My arm wraps around my middle. “Fuck.”
The bracer pulls on my power, making me double over. I push back, trying to get some kind of balance. When Grandma gave me the locket, it felt like a welcome hug. Nothing like this—nothing like the dull terror of wrangling with the grim reaper.
Shit. Norbert was more powerful than I imagined.
It takes a moment for the magic to settle, allowing me to finally straighten. Sweat beads on my forehead as I push the bracer on the door, and I pray to the goddess that the library didn’t revoke Norbert’s access the moment he died.
The door clicks open, and my heart soars.
“Now, it’s time to find everything I can on the Unseelie.”
I return home hours later with a heavy heart and a stack of papers I copied from the reference books: History of the Unseelie Faeries, Demise of the Unseelie, Unseelie Bargains.
The hound jumps down from the bedroom and trots toward me, his tongue lolling to the side.
My heart clenches. The poor boy must have been lonely.
“Sorry.” I rub the back of my neck. “I went to the library.”
He cocks his head.
“It’s a place where people read and borrow books.”
He pushes his snout into my stack of papers.