Page 8 of Hunted by the Headless Horseman (Roars and Romances #5)

JACK

“Look!”

she groans, raking her fingers through those wild curls.

“The last thing we need is to give Mrs. Kravitson an early heart attack. Or anyone else for that matter.”

I chuckle, raising a hand to claim hers. I believe everyone loves a Halloween thrill. Pity she couldn’t see me.

My sweet Belle doesn’t pull away. If anything, she squeezes my hand more.

“Oh, yeah,”

she snorts, very unladylike.

“She’d be thrilled, all right. Straight to the grave. Next time, can you please just wait until I’ve closed the shop before you make your grand entrance?”

If I could, I’d tilt my head and grin down at her. Oh, Belladonna, where’s the fun in that? Perhaps I enjoy ruffling your feathers, especially when I have had so little entertainment over the past decades.

She huffs, but I can sense her smile as she adds, “Just…try not to make me a suspect in a sudden death, okay?”

I step closer, wrapping my arm around her waist, loving how her breath hitches. As I cup her chin in one gloved hand, her body grows warmer against mine. No promises, love. But I’ll behave. For now.

The familiar little jingle invades our space, and the warmth grows inside me at the cat rubbing against my leg.

“Aww, Mortimer likes you.”

Will you describe him to me?

“Oh, he’s just a nice ol’ orange and white stray. Sweetest boy I’ve ever met,”

she remarks as Mortimer weaves in and out of my legs.

Hmm…fitting for the sweetest girl I’ve ever met, I say, brushing my knuckles across her cheek. I brought you something. I reach into my coat pocket and retrieve the scarf forsaken in the woods when I chased her.

“Oh, Jack!”

She snatches it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Her voice cracks. I did not expect this grateful emotion.

“This was a gift from my grandmother. It’s irreplaceable.”

As you are also, my Belle. I sift my hand through her hair.

“Um…”

She shivers at my touch, clearing her dry throat.

“Did the ‘hunt’ a few minutes ago qualify, or do you need to get on your horse and wave a jack-o-lantern at me while I run through the forest like a damsel in distress?”

It qualified. I’m certain there are many methods we may try. Creativity is a necessity. Her feminine musk, her pheromones, are stronger tonight, prompting me to strengthen my grip upon her.

“Necessity is the mother of invention, they say,”

she points out, her breath turning heavier.

“Can we take a walk in the woods together? You can share more about this curse or your life. You could show me more of your manor. Anything might help to reclaim your heart,”

she references my letter.

Heat surges to my length at the thought of a walk among my grounds. I know the perfect place to take her.

As we approach the fog draping around the trees that lead to my home, Belle shivers.

Securing my cane in one arm, I retrieve the black scarf around my neck with the other and turn to face my summoner. The severance of my head is clean with no gore or flesh. I require no scarf, unlike her.

After binding the soft wool around her lovely throat, I touch the corner of her mouth, sensing the soft curving of her mouth in an affectionate smile.

“Thank you. You are the perfect gentleman tonight, Jack. Oh!”

she exclaims, and I stiffen at the touch of her fingers upon my collar. She touches the base of my throat, tracing the marks there.

“You have tattoos? How?”

I drew the ink myself, I say. I have only felt the faintest of touches over the past couple of centuries. It gave me a level of pain that aided me in my plight.

Her breath quickens, and I feel an internal grin, knowing her arousal has heated her blood.

“That’s a long time. Um…how many tattoos do you have?”

Many.

“How far down do they go?”

Removing my glove, I tug her closer to me, cupping one side of her face and leaning in as if I were to purr in her ear, Would you like to see, my bold, little Belle? If you are feeling quite daring, I will happily guide you through the investigation. And I assure you, the experience will be quite…thrilling for you.

Her cheek grows hot beneath my palm. I chuckle at the slight sheen of sweat on the side of her neck.

“I appreciate the invitation, really. But some mysteries are best saved for another time. So, I’ll stick with the perfect gentleman for now. Besides, I want answers,”

she insists, her voice turning firm as she clutches my coat sleeve.

“I need you to tell me more. Anything and everything that might help.”

I won’t be a perfect gentleman much longer, which I don’t share with her quite yet. As she said, some mysteries…

Instead, I offer her my arm, place my cane firmly on the ground, gripping the silver handle. The cane stands as a master craftsmanship of carven strength and an inconspicuous weapon with its hidden blade.

A deep appreciation rushes through me as Belle leans her head on my shoulder as we walk. Were it not for my lack of a head, it would look like a loving couple taking a stroll through the woods. She briefly changed—a need after her bustling day in the bookshop.

It was quite adorable to lean against her bedroom wall while she flitted about, changing her mind over each clothing item. As if she desired the perfect outfit despite my inability to see it. Mortimer kept me company in the meantime.

Lifting that gray, wool skirt and lowering her stockings to take my crop to her naughty bottom will be most enjoyable. And perhaps undo the ruffled collar of her shirt to steal a cupping of her generous bosom.

My boots thud along the hard ground of the path, a beat behind my cane. Belle’s footsteps are light, subtly whirling the autumn leaves. A hint of bonfire smoke drifts in the air.

“Will you tell me why you traded your heart for the curse?”

she wonders, her tone soft but serious. Not out of curiosity but a longing need. Her head does not leave my shoulder. How I long to feel those curls covering my long-lost face.

Heaving a sigh in our shared stream of consciousness, I first ask her, My history is not a…kind one, sweet summoner. Are you certain you are prepared for what I am about to convey? I do not wish to trouble your heart unnecessarily.

“Jack.”

She raises her head, sighing, too. I pause at her touch, those fingers upon my throat. All my neck muscles bulge. My balls draw up tight, ready to burst from my hard manhood.

“My heart might not seem strong, but I’ve had my share of darkness. I’ll share that darkness with you sometime. And no, you don’t owe me anything. If it hurts you, I won’t press you. I just want to know whatever I can to help you.”

Gods, this girl! She turned my quest for her welfare on its head, giving me more of her heart, so beautiful and sweet. Less than a second later, I’ve trapped her against the nearest tree, holding her hands against the bark on either side of her.

“What? What did I say?”

she gasps.

Damnation, Belle! If I possessed lips, I would kiss you.

Her gasps fill the thin space between us. Would that I had a mouth. I would attack hers. I would bite those delectable lips and tangle my tongue with hers, showing her my need to taste every part of her mouth.

One whimper escapes before she takes a deep breath.

“If you possessed lips and kissed me, I would reciprocate. Ardently.”

I didn’t believe I could grow harder. In just two days, this remarkable young woman has tethered the hollow space where my heart once beat. Wherever it is, I imagine it must have felt her, sensed her, longed for her.

Shoving off of her, I take her wrist, tugging her along quicker before I lose all control and rut her against that tree. She grips my arm to keep pace with me. I need an anchor, a dark touchstone to control myself.

“Where are we?—”

To give you answers.