Page 4 of Graveyard Girls (Hollows Grove #1)

“You’re gonna have to tell me what that means, sweetheart. I don’t speak witch. And as easily distractible as I may be, I believe we were talking about murder.”

Taking my hand, she directed me to a stone alleyway between two shops, dark, unassuming, and slightly damp.

Confusion furrowed my brow, and I was unsure what she wanted until her palms pressed against my chest and shoved me against the stone wall.

Her breath was sweet on my lips, sweet peppermint, just like the tea she had given me that morning.

My hands rested at her waist, and I sucked in a breath, wanting to lose control, wanting to rip off her wedding dress.

A dress too beautiful, a girl too fine for any common man, for any man at all.

“Tell me what you want,” I breathed in a hoarse whisper, unable to resist the allure of her lips much longer.

“Help me forget,” she said without pause, as if she’d been thinking it since the moment she met me. “Help me forget, if even for just a night, please… please.”

If my restraint were a raging animal pulling on its rope, her sweet voice, begging the word please, was the tug that broke the final fray of control.

I gripped her hard, my touch moving to her hips, pulling her tightly against me.

Without a thought, my mouth crashed into hers, desperate for a taste of her.

Lunette let out the sweetest gasp as her tongue probed mine, as if she had been just as desperate for a taste of me.

“God,” I breathed. “You taste delicious. Never stop kissing me.“

Her hands cupped my jaw and smoothed their way down my neck as she pressed her lips against mine with the fervor of a long lost lover, not merely a first encounter with a strange graveyard girl who lost her memories.

I didn’t have time to analyze it—didn’t want to analyze it, didn’t want any thoughts to exist in my brain aside from the feeling of her body pressed against mine.

If Lunette Selene needed help forgetting, I’d gladly lend my services.

I shoved my knee between her thighs, parting her legs, our breaths ragged as we embraced.

She wrapped her arms around me, her grip entwining in the curls of my hair.

As she tugged, I groaned at the feel of her and pressed my knee harder against the apex of her thighs.

“You feel amazing,” she breathed. “You shouldn’t be real.”

Grabbing her hips, I rocked her against my leg, wishing to god I could reach under her stupid wedding dress and feel how wet I knew she was for me.

But we were adjacent to a busy street, and I knew we were on borrowed time before some drunk asshole stumbled back here and caught us.

Not that it would stop me, but I figured Lunette didn’t want an audience.

Against my own dastardly desires, I guided the white witch to what she sought.

Her pussy glided over the silk of her dress against me with the aid of my moving her back and forth.

I bit her lower lip as her breaths became quick and shallow.

“That’s it, beautiful. Give me what’s mine. ”

“Well, fuck,” she cried out, grinding hard against me. My mouth caught her fuck and muffled her moans. I drank them up, wanting more and more.

Holding her close, she rested her head on my shoulder for a moment as she gathered herself. “That was a nice surprise.” I tucked her icy platinum hair behind her ear.

Straightening, she took a deep breath and smoothed her dress out. “To the graveyard?”

She still wanted to see her dead fiancé, I guessed.

That didn’t feel great—but then again, I’d agreed to being used.

Really, I was fine with whatever she wanted.

If a quick fuck was all she thought I could offer, then I’d give it.

But a gnawing part of my soul couldn’t deny I wanted more.

My heart couldn’t stop the pang of sadness it felt at the thought that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, come to think of me as something greater.

Couldn’t I at least be better than a dead guy? Ok, that was insensitive, but whatever.

We walked in silence to the graveyard, and this time she didn’t take my arm.

I let her walk ahead as I fell in step a few paces behind her.

Her hands were clutched together as we entered through the gate, and she made her way to the gravestone of Alaric Lonesome .

Cocking an eyebrow, I cleared my throat and broke the silence.

“You were going to be Lunette Lonesome ? Really?”

“It’s a lovely name,” she said with a bit of a bite. “I assume you have work to do here?”

“Dismissed. Ok, got it.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She rested a palm on the headstone. “This spell is complicated and requires a lot of concentration.”

“Spell? What kind of spell?” I crossed my arms and glared at the grave. “Like some kind of afterlife hi, hello , or what?”

Lunette crossed her arms. “I hardly think it’s any of your business, but no, not just an afterlife hi-hello . Now, if you don’t mind…”

“Hey, I think some of my memory is coming back. Oh, right, that’s it. Annoying . Witches are annoying.”

The glowing white beauty rolled her eyes, and goddamn if that didn’t just turn me on. Stomping away, I left her to her spell. Her spell for some guy. Ok, her fiancé .

“Alaric Lonesome,” I muttered to myself, kicking leaves off plots. “Alaric Lonesome with a handlebar mustache. Alaric Lonesome, who’s never held a power tool or changed a lightbulb in his life.”

Something shimmering and translucent drifted by. “Salutations, Shiloh,” an echoey voice cooed. “How’s your head? That was one hell of a hit you took.” The ghost faded through a tree.

“Wait, what happened? I don’t remember anything. Sorry, I don’t recall your name.” I picked up a tree branch to fidget with. “Can you tell me what you saw?”

“Oh, it was quite the tussle,” the disembodied voice replied. “Now, leave me to my haunting. Clean up my grave while you’re at it. Cora Devue is my name.”

I had a feeling ghosts were always that cryptic and bossy.

Though Cora the Ghost did confirm what I’d thought—I’d hit my head.

Too bad Dr. Jekal was zero help. Though I assumed my concussion would fade eventually, and my memory would return.

In the meantime, I’d tend to the graveyard and to the white witch chanting under the moonlight.

She told me to stay back, but after I swept Cora’s grave, I found myself wandering closer to Mr. Mustache’s resting place.

Lunette swayed, hands over her heart. “Bring back the love of my life, bring back my love. Right the wrongs. Bring to me my true love. Let not death hold back my love from me.”

My chest tightened. “You’re trying to bring him back to life?”

Lunette opened one eye before shrugging her shoulders. “Yes, and I will manage it. Witches do it all the time. Raise the dead. Though it’s not without its hazards…”

“Well, that’s just swell. I hope that works out for you.” I stomped past.

Surprisingly, the patter of feet followed after me, crunching through autumn leaves. “Where do you think you’re going, Shiloh Solair?”

“I’ll find someplace to sleep. Don’t worry about me. I’m not your problem, Lunette Lonesome.”

Something tugged at the back of my suspenders, and I turned to see the white witch urging me to stop. “You are my problem, and you’re staying with me. And it’s Lunette Selene.” Her eyes searched mine earnestly. “I do like you. Don’t you like me, too?”

Sometimes she was so formal and proper. One moment, straight-backed and cursing a doctor, the next, twirling in a dress and asking stupid, heart-melting questions.

With a sigh, I straightened my suspenders and avoided meeting her gaze. “Yeah, I guess I like you.”

“Seemed like you liked me earlier in the alleyway.”

“Not as much as you liked me. I’d very much like an encore. Would you like that?” That was a dumb question to ask someone actively trying to raise their fiancé from the dead.

But to my surprise, she tilted her head and nodded. “Yes, I would. But you’ll have to come home with me.” She looped her arm in mine. “And no more running off alone into strange shops or visiting strange doctors. Not until your memories return. Got it?”

“Are you playing some witch trick on me, or are you naturally just impossible to say no to?” My mouth quirked into a half smile as we exited the cemetery.

“I guess you’ll never know,” she responded, her wedding dress swishing in the October breeze as we walked arm in arm.

In the morning, the kitchen erupted with sounds of teacups tinkering on the tabletops and cat meows.

I must have just missed Lunette, I realized, as I paused at the kettle that was just beginning to boil.

Pouring hot water into a mug, I fished a teabag from the cabinet when I heard a scream from the backyard.

Dropping my mug and jumping over three cats, I raced outside.

Lune held a garden hose as it whirled and sprayed a harsh and uncontrollable shower of water.

“This stupid thing!” she complained when she noticed me jogging over.

“Here, let me see.” The water was already soaking my shirt.

“No,” she protested. “I can manage it on my own.”

I put my hands on my hips, taking in her wet hair and soaked dress. “Don’t need help from anyone, huh? Miss Independent over here? Well, your garden might disagree when it’s over-watered and dies.”

With a loud and frustrated groan, Lunette handed me the hose. “You won’t figure it out. This thing is possessed. It has a mind of its own.”

Following the hose to the source, I turned the stuck nozzle and shut off the water. “It just needs some oil and the holes repaired. Stay here, I’ll fix it.”

After rifling around in her tool shed, I found what I needed and returned to Lunette picking sprigs of rosemary. Finally, after pouring oil and mending punctures, I was sure it was fixed.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’ve been doing everything alone here for so long, sometimes I forget what it means to have help.”