Page 16 of Rituals & Rivalry

There’s a loud crash, and I jiggle the handle. Locked. Of course it is. What the hell am I thinking? I peek through a window, but there’s nothing to be seen until the door swings open, and there Aurora is.

Glaring at me.

Hard.

More than that, she’s windswept, her hair a mess, and her clothes wrinkled. There are dark circles under her eyes. Her chest heaves as if she’s recently been working out. Or maybe running for her life.

The cottage has never been bloodthirsty, exactly, but I haven’t interacted with it in a while. Something could have changed.

“Now really isn’t a good time,” she says, huffing and puffing.

The floorboard under her foot sinks, and she does along with it, yelping as the wood appears to melt. Yup, this is definitely worse than before. Rattling cupboards, a little wailing, is to be expected. Disappearing floors?

Seems like she’s learned some new tricks.

The house doesn’t seem to like Aurora, but the truth is, it doesn’t like anyone except for me. Mostly. I avoid going inside when I can, but I’m the one who cares for the grounds. If it weren’t for me, I think this cottage would have been forgotten a long time ago.

I should have let that happen, but I couldn’t.

“Can I come in, please?” I rub one of my hands over my forehead.

“Like I said, not a good time!” She pulls her foot out of the hole in the floor, and the floor rights itself. It’s as if nothing happened, a trick of the light. “Gods. What was that?”

“An illusion.” I bend lower, meeting her gaze. “Nothing to worry about. Are you home alone?”

“None of your business.”

“If you won’t be reasonable, I’d like to talk to someone who is.”

Instead of backing away, she meets me head-on, creeping closer until our chests are inches apart. “Not letting a strange man into my house is perfectly reasonable.”

In any other circumstance, she would probably be right, but she’s making my job hard.

I grit my teeth together into something like a smile, maybe closer to a grimace. “It wouldn’t be the first time you invited me over.”

My heart races—embarrassing—at the reminder of the last thing we were together, something I’m trying desperately to forget about. The last time I was with anyone. The last time I had fun, though I won’t admit that.

We need to leave it behind. Nothing good can come from this.

But I can’t let the house torture her and her poor family. She didn’t do anything to deserve it.

“Did you seriously come here to piss me off again?” she snaps.

“No.” I force my voice to remain level, clearing my throat. “I never wanted to upset you. I came here because I have a history with this, uh, house.”

She blinks once. Twice. Three times. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Though she’s still looking at me with what can only be described as reluctance, she steps aside, her fingers curling hard around the golden doorknob. “Good history or bad?”

“Complicated question.” The house seems to exhale as I step inside, and I do along with it. “And not one I’d like to answer, if you don’t mind.”

“Can you answer any of my questions, or do you get off on annoying me?”

Can I? Yes. Will I? Probably not.

She already knows what I get off on, but I stop myself from saying as much. The last thing I need is to remind either of us just how much I enjoyed eating her out and calling her my good little slut. I’d sure like to forget all about it, but it’s hard when she’s looking up at me with her sweet doe eyes, her lips glistening, her every curve as delectable as I remember.