Page 8 of Safe in Shadow (Pine Ridge Universe #22)

And maybe... Maybe a glass of wine to relax her. And maybe that glass of wine could be had in the huge, deep tub, where she could soak the kinks out of her muscles, muscles that surely deserved a treat after a day of hauling heavy things?

That would keep the dark thoughts and feelings at bay.

“THAT’S GOING TO HAVE to stay there for tonight.” Grace let the table rest on the porch, now covered with a tarp. Her back ached. Her muscles screamed. Her stomach and mouth protested that she had a yummy manicotti in a foil pan right next to her, and she hadn’t even taken a single bite.

Yet.

NYX WATCHED HIS PRETTY pet pamper herself, admitting that she deserved it.

He’d seen her lugging and huffing, shifting and groaning, carrying piece after piece of furniture into the house.

She could barely keep her eyes open during her meal.

She didn’t look at the small screens she was so fond of, instead eating with so many moans, groans, and sighs that his body twisted and shaped itself into a man.

A virile, hungry man, who wanted to feed his carnal appetites the way she was sating her hunger for food.

Tonight, he came close to her. Behind her. A soft shadow, one of many shadows in a dim room where the tired woman had no desire to turn on lights.

He trailed her and her single glass of dark red wine up the stairs, and followed her into the bathroom she claimed as her own—but tonight she did not shut the shower curtain and turn on the spray of mist that coated her body, sending rivers from her shoulders to her feet.

Tonight, she parted the curtain, tucked it up out of the way, fumbled with some of her pretty bottles on the counter, and ran herself a bath.

Nyx no longer pretended she was just art, no longer pretended he would leave soon, or look away. Tonight, he slid into the cracks and corners behind her and wondered if he dared to sink into the water beneath her.

Would she even notice? Or would she just assume her tired muscles were imagining things?

It started slowly as she stripped and sank into peach-scented bubbles, glass of wine held high, towel folded behind her head.

She kept her eyes closed, her breathing low and shallow, then deeper. Her empty glass was placed on the floor, delicately dropped onto a bath mat with limp, sleepy fingers.

He had some vague idea that he shouldn’t let her sleep in the bathtub. Too deep. Too slippery.

Oh, sins, he wanted to be inside of her, filling her where it was deep and slippery.

But for now—he slid underneath her. He was able to.

Her weight rested on him, and he groaned, lost in hot water, the scent of ripe peaches, and the feel of naked flesh on his.

“Sleep, Sunflower. I won’t let you sink.”

IN THE WARM WATER, her muscles didn’t complain. Her belly was full, and her senses were mellowed by warm wine, soft sounds of nature outside, and her favorite scents of summer and spring that reminded her of picking peaches with Nana.

When the last sip of wine was gone, and her head was pillowed on a folded towel, she had the belated worry that she might slip down this deep tub and drown in her sleep. Would the shock of her mouth and nose going under wake her up? Probably.

Should go to bed.

Don’t wanna move.

Grace remained in a sleepy, watery limbo for a while, her eyes shut. It was only when she made the first attempts to struggle upward and lift her chin out of the water that she felt it.

Something... Something solid and soft, like a cushion, but not made of any material she knew. Not the hard surface of the tub, certainly.

Her hips wriggled and slid as she tried to get a better purchase on the sides of the tub, and that was when she felt it.

Hard. Thick. Against her lower back. Against her rear.

Her breath caught in her chest, but the scream died in her throat when her eyes flew open and she looked into the water.

Nothing there, just dimness and remnants of bubbles. The water was dark, but she’d left the lights on the lowest setting for a reason, to help her relax.

Maybe I’m asleep?

This could be a dream.

The familiar tingle of guilty pleasure started in her middle. Yes, a dream, like the wet dream she’d had the other day—or was that just this morning? Had it been multiple mornings?

Her hand moved down to her wet curls, and then lower still, surprised to find her fingers easily sliding into her slick tunnel, coated in a slipperiness that overpowered the bubbles.

If it’s a dream... Enjoy it.

If you’re awake—maybe you’re just horny.

The hard thing moved. She felt something shift, felt her hand nudged by something decidedly phallic—but bigger than anything she’d ever had before.

“Too big,” she mumbled drowsily, and just like that, it was smaller. Smaller and waiting against her hand.

God, how long since she’d been filled? How long since her pussy had squeezed on something while she rubbed herself to a truly satisfying peak?

Dream lover. It was the title of an old song, one she’d often heard Nana and G-Pop listening to as they exchanged a secret smile. But it was also what she’d called out the other morning, wasn’t it?

When her fingers were buried inside, and the shadows in the corner kept moving and pulsing, and she was sleepy...

When she came so hard, she saw black spirals in the middle of her vision...

“Dream lover?” she whispered, terrified she’d hear an answer.

But if I do, I’m just asleep. Right?

No answer.

She moved in the tub, and her pussy grazed the hard thing, now smaller, but still big enough.

Did I drop a bottle in the tub?

Her hand went down with a mission now, searching, grasping, and finding that same soft, yielding material that was unlike anything she’d ever touched. It had warmth and mass, but the texture was hard to define.

Just plain hard.

Her fingers curled around and pumped, and she felt the water stirring behind her.

Definitely a dream. And if it’s a dream, there’s no harm in this.

NYX ALMOST DIED A SECOND death as his sweet sunflower’s hand wrapped around his cock and began to pump.

Sweet fuck, what... What is she doing? He thought with a gasp, but then he was silent, praying she hadn’t heard him over the splashing of water.

Two could play at this game.

His arms slid and twisted, longer and thinner, wrapping around her easily to touch her pretty little pussy, to circle and flick her clit, making her gasp this time.

Do you want me inside of you?

He almost asked it aloud.

He didn’t. Maybe she wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t sure it would come out as words. It might just come out as growls—inhuman, inarticulate growls.

Instead, he guided her hips back to his, arms locking around her waist.

She didn’t resist, but slid her wet back against his chest, and her hips rose—and fell to sheath him inside.

Oh, he helped, of course. He made himself just the right length, just the right angle, so that he slid in without any resistance.

“Oh, God! What...” Grace’s cry was scared for a moment, and it did things to him. Bad things. He wanted her fear—but he no longer wanted to drive her away. Not tonight.

He let out a hiss as hot, wet flesh enveloped him, and all other thoughts left. She moved on him, having her way with him to bring herself off, but that was all he wanted. He wanted to share her body, her pleasure.

It wasn’t as though he were being selfless in the matter. Every stroke and squeeze of her tight heat around him made him want to explode.

She was glorious from behind, but then—then she turned, and her knees hit his thighs. Her hands gripped the sides of the tub, and she posted on his cock, strong muscles rippling, her moans no longer ones of exhaustion but pleasure.

He arched his neck. Nyx let his long tongue spool out, not that it was always long, but it could be long when he desired. Right now, he desired it to be exactly long enough to slide across her small breasts and capture her hard nipples, tight and high on crinkled skin.

When his tongue captured one, wrapping around it and pulling, Grace leaned forward, into his touch.

It was a fake feeling, of course, but one that was good enough, one that allowed him the confusing make-believe that she wanted him. Wanted this.

Oh, well. She most definitely wanted this , if her frenzied grunts were anything to go by.

With a last push, she slid herself down onto him, sitting, sinking, until she was bottomed out on an erection he had willed to grow as she stretched. Now, she rocked on him, rubbing frantically, letting out little puffed curses.

When he felt her final shudder of pleasure, he withdrew, his own orgasm of spilt smoke right behind hers. Fortunately, Grace yanked the shower on, shaking and spluttering under the steaming spray.

“Did that really fucking happen?” she demanded, her eyes wide but unfocused.

He said nothing.

“Hey! Hey, dream lover, if you’re here... What’s the deal? Are you like... A ghost?”

Nyx swallowed, panting in his own aftermath.

Couldn’t she simply enjoy it? Stupid girl.

His satisfaction was ebbing away as he saw the confusion and fear on her face.

Shouldn’t have done it. What the hell are you? What made you think this could ever end amicably? He slammed his loathing at the door of the bathroom, but it was already shut. It simply rattled

Grace gasped, but to her credit, she didn’t scream and flee. “Okay. Okay, is that a yes? If it’s a yes... Damn, the afterlife isn’t so bad? I mean, I... I don’t know what I mean. I might have dreamed that. If I didn’t dream that... Give me a sign? Tell me a name?”

No. No, he wouldn’t speak. Wasn’t really sure if he could —if his language still matched his understanding. Shades didn’t move like humans, didn’t hold shape like humans. Why should their language be understood by humans?

He supposed he could try, but that... That would open a dangerous door. Talking.

If he had someone to truly talk to, would he ever be able to let her go?

You could end her. Keep her.

What guarantees that? Many have died here. They don’t stay. If they did, perhaps I wouldn’t be what I am, something not-quite human, not properly ghost. Ghosts at least get to keep their human resemblance.

I’m... Ink and shadow. Hunger and fear.

“That was nice—for what it's worth. I guess I can call you ‘dream lover,’ but man, I’d love to know if I was awake or asleep for that little escapade...” Grace laughed, a high, nervous laugh, and drew the curtain around the tub.

He peeked and watched her through the steam, rinsing the bubbles off, rinsing off the slickness between her thighs.

The fog kissed the mirror, filling it.

Could he touch it?

Move through it?

One finger began a silent drag through the tiny droplets that created the cloud of gray.

GRACE ALMOST SCREAMED when she saw it.

Neat, large letters with ragged edges.

NYX

“His name is Nyx. What kind of name is that?”

Ghostly one?

I guess...

“Okay, well. See you soon, Nyx?”

There was no answer.

I hope he’s friendly.

Maybe I should see someone about this...