Page 10 of The Redd Key (Bone Coven #1)

“W ell, whose eyes are they?” Bridget asked RJ. “Why are you suddenly seeing them?” She stepped toward my little brother. RJ took a step back , shaking his head.

“I don’t – I don’t know,” he quavered. Sarah bounced on her toes and bit her lip, glancing at Bridget.

“Nobody. They’re nobody’s,” Sarah chirped.

“Hey, RJ,” Eamon shouted from the door. “Come inside, man, it’s late. Raina,” he called out louder, “Did y'all want to come inside?”

“We’re actually leaving in a sec,” I yelled back. At that moment, Jeff awkwardly shouldered past Eamon, ignoring the man’s entire existence. He walked over to where we stood and put his arm around our little brother.

“I’ll be home soon, little man. Go to bed. Gotta get on that school schedule.” RJ looked up at Jeff and nodded.

When he got to the house, RJ paused. “Let me know when you’re back?” His boyish voice was quiet.

“You got it.” Jeff put his hands in his pockets and faced the girls. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. “You ready to ride?”

“Mhmm, uh, yes. Yes, I am.” Sarah was basically drooling. Bridget exaggeratedly lobbed her head to give her an obnoxious look.

“Yeah, I call shotgun.” Bridget quickly said. Sarah whined, jutting her chin out in a dramatic pout. I could have sworn I spotted a smirk growing on Jeff’s face before he walked to the truck. He opened the driver’s door and then the back seat.

“I’ll be right there.” I glanced up at the house, and all the curtains were drawn in the windows. I took a few steps backward before I turned and hurried to the grass, searching for the wooden chest. “ Come on, come on .” I surveyed every inch of the overgrown brush and pushed my sight through the darkness. After what seemed like an eternity, I spotted it next to that dratted root that almost killed me. With the chest tucked securely under my arm, I dove into the backseat. Jeff eyed the box and shook his head at me, silently suggesting he’d rather not know.

The wind whipped Bridget’s platinum hair back, smacking Sarah in the face for most of the ride. Bridget was entirely unaware of the silent assault due to the sudden ailment of infatuation. Her green eyes were locked on my brother’s face since he got into the truck. Jeff, on the other hand, kept his gaze on the road, but by the way he clenched his jaw, I could tell he was aware of her very loud intentions.

As Sarah fought the chaotic strands of blonde hair, my head swiveled, searching the darkness beyond the truck’s windows. We were followed into the forest by someone. He must be out there. Watching, like in RJ’s painting. Waiting .

Martin and Pilot were at the foot of the apartment stairs as we approached my home. Ferran was sitting on the upper deck in his favorite gargoyle position.

“You both can stay in the truck,” Jeff commanded.

“Ok,” Bridget and Sarah responded in harmony, all doe-eyed.

“I’ll take you guys home after she’s inside.” He hopped out of the truck’s cab and opened the back door to let me out.

“See you guys, thanks for hanging out with me.” That wasn’t the most awkward thing I could have said, right? Like, what? I just met these two this morning. Though, we did basically create a coven today. We were also chased by a slasher-film freak into a magical cove. But yeah, let’s go with it, thanks for hanging out with me , as if I’m a lost puppy. Their faces showed they didn’t care about a single word I was saying as my brother casually leaned with one arm on top of the truck’s door. Their eyes were memorizing every line of visible muscle. I snorted, all awkwardness gone, as I attempted to ignore the fact that they were unabashedly eye-fucking my brother. “I’ll let you know what I find out about this,” I knocked on the wooden chest twice. That snapped them out of their drunken haze.

“Yeah, for sure, let us know.” Bridget tried to sound just as casual as Jeff looked. However, she acted more like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar as her cheeks pinkened and cringed into herself.

“Here.” Sarah pulled out her phone, and mine dinged. “Airdropped our contacts. Text us later!”

Waving from the balcony as the truck pulled away, I felt like I dunked my head in a tub of ice-cold water. The sobering, tormented thoughts of the tragedy that is my life washed over me. Well, at least, my life before I got to this place and the moments where I was being stalked by ominous shadow men. It seemed like the hours spent keeping painful memories and truths at bay only deferred the inevitable crash of reality. I had summoned my inner demons tenfold, making up for lost time. And as if right on cue, my phone played its teasing ringtone, signaling Nathan sent another message. The most sinful demon of all of them.

It was a picture. I groaned out loud, already aware of what I’d face once I opened the text message. Desperate for comfort and protection, I ran a bath, adding drops of lavender oil and crushed cinnamon. I lit a white candle in each room before securing my space with a protective salt mixture at the seams of every window and exterior door. The blend consisted of clove and thyme oils mixed with sea salt and a sprinkle of lavender. A small incantation in a circle of selected crystals and stones—voila, protection salt. Reassuringly, it felt like I was doing something to keep the Shadows away, but I really should look into self-defense classes.

However, all the protection spells and rituals in the world did nothing to keep Nathan from sliding into my inbox. I opened the message. Damn . Why does he have this hold on me? I stared at the picture for far longer than I care to admit. The professional-level thirst trap was so skillfully captured that it had my mind instantly thinking about all the bad things I had done and how he, my professor, would correct them.

The mirror selfie showed Nathan in a power stance. His oxford shirt is unbuttoned, hanging open to show off the core work he obsessively does. Every single ab was defined like the rungs of a ladder I desperately wanted to climb. His pressed twill pants hung on his waist, also undone, to reveal the thick band of Calvin Klein boxer briefs and the prominent lines leading to my favorite part of his body. The phone was held high enough that he was barely looking down at it, and his full lips parted in a way that made me hunger for them. Yet, the hand not taking the picture was my main focus. Nathan’s left hand was on his thigh, where his pants were the tautest. Outlined, as if the fabric wasn’t even there, his entire length was displayed.

His hold over me was toxic and intoxicating. It was an instant distraction from all of it. In one breath, I recalled our last session together.

That day, I knocked on the heavy wood door of his office.

“Come in,” he said. Nathan’s voice was always demanding without being raised. The tones lingered in the air after his words left his lips. Warm and full of bite, like an aged bourbon.

Reminiscing only the significant parts of that evening, I felt myself heating in ways that had nothing to do with my near-scalding bath. He baited me, and I was invested in his game once more before I even realized it. As carefully as I possible, I took my own picture, showing him exactly what I was doing and thinking about.

Nathan:

…

Good girl…

Those two words.

Those two words meant everything to me. I would do anything to hear him say them. Also , the reason why I decided to start therapy for the first time in my life. All those sessions taught me that I have daddy issues (duh) and that kinks are totally normal, fine even, if everyone involved consents. Learning that I don’t have to feel guilty about our games is liberating. Still, I do die on the inside whenever I think about how he treats me in between his musings. I’m only needed when he wants me. That specifically is not my favorite thing about this arrangement.

Getting my head back into the game, I reread his text and let my head rest back against the tub.

Good girl…

Memories of our last night continued to slip into my mind; he whispered those words while my eyes were shut, and my mouth took him in entirely. His one hand had a grip on my braid, holding me in place, and his other held my breast. His thumb rolled against the thin material of my shirt, making my nipple peak, without anything but a bit of lace to soften his touch.

Since I had been his good girl , he had me crying out his name. Gripping the sheets to stay grounded during his tantalizing ritual, I cried out his name over and over again. Each time, he worshiped me, devouring every part of me. But he was the master of edging, and whenever he knelt and prayed at my altar, the pain of wanting became even more unbearable. It wasn’t until I was sufficiently begging for him to just fuck me and let me finish that he actually gave me that pleasure.

With the chat open, I watched as the typing bubble suddenly disappeared. My heartbeat was heavy from the vivid flashbacks. Three beats later, his next text came through.

You’re not allowed to come again until I make you.

My whimpers echoed off the tiled walls. We both knew he wasn’t coming here like he said. It was all part of his game. I grew angry with him for making me wait for an undisclosed amount of time before I could have those sensations rip through me again. I texted him something I knew would get me into trouble if I was still near campus. Something that would have made him summon me to his office immediately.

Propping my phone as cautiously as I could on the tub’s spout, I recorded myself doing exactly what his hands would have done to me—giving him a first-person view of what he was currently missing. I moaned in ways I knew would drive him insane, keeping eye contact with the camera the entire time. As flames raced through my body and all the sexual tension threatened to snap, I gasped, spilling over and moaning the words, “Fuck you,” with a smile. Checkmate.

I melted into the warmth of the bath after I sent the message, still riding out the waves of ecstasy. It had been a long, long time since I submitted to that sort of release. Not that Nathan gave me much more than that. Maybe once our play sessions fizzled out, I could possibly find someone a bit more giving . I mean, Nathan gives plenty but usually only behind his office door. Outside of that room, I was nothing to him. There’s no issue with that, but I want more . Though, definitely not from him. I still wasn’t sure if Cove Man was real, but I’d take a figment of my imagination as a boyfriend before I’d ever seriously consider dating Nathan.

Goosebumps erupted across my arms, exposed to the air above the water’s surface. The bath water cooled down, and I stood to get out. Chills raced through my entire body as I reached for my phone, rescuing it from its risky perch.

Ding .

Like Pavlov’s Dog, I reacted to the sound. However, instead of salivating, my stomach twisted because I knew Nathan listed all the ways he’d love to punish me for being a Bad Girl.

Another picture, according to the notification. I tapped the icon, and the image expanded. At first, I had no idea what I was looking at, but then it registered; a location pin. It took even longer for me to realize the pin was in Portland. Maine .

Blood raced to my face as my heart began to pound for so many reasons. The high from my climax was stolen in a moment.

Haven’t you learned anything?

His text punctuated my panic. He was typing again, and I watched the indicating dots with bated breaths. Standing naked in the middle of my bathroom, phone in hand, I watched in terror, panic, and anticipation to see what Nathan planned to do. A sick part of me rationalized that this surprise was him giving me more. That he wouldn’t travel all the way to me if he didn’t care. But the logical part of me, the one living in reality, knew that this was Nathan doing everything he could to maintain control. This was his game, after all.

I make the rules, and if you break them…you better be prepared for the consequences.

“Fuck.” I breathed the word. The threat of him, of his punishment, made me want to run and hide. But at the same time, his text made me shiver as I imagined how long he would make me beg. And how willing I would be to grovel.

See you in the morning, doll.

Fuck. A salacious shiver rushed through me, and I wanted to smack the grin right off my reflection’s face.