Page 119 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
His orgasm was fierce and feral, and he bit me again, making me come in response. My body pulsed and throbbed around his, drawing him deeper as he spilled himself into me, his dick swollen and tight and trapped inside of me.
We lay there for a while, panting and sweating and stuck together.
“You okay there, darlin’?” he murmured, and I nodded. Also, my tail tried to wag, but it was tucked under me and stupidly useless in that moment.
“More than okay.” I nuzzled into the hollow of his throat as he began to relax and the swelling came down. When we slid apart, I was almost disappointed, but I let him pick me up and, abandoning our clothes to the cold, we slipped back inside the lodge and up the stairs, tiptoed past Hex asleep on the sofa, and crawled into bed with Spectre and Argent.
With the fires going in our room, the living area, and the kids’ room, I felt safe and cozy, protected from the cold and the krampus. Or maybe it was just the strong circle of Caine’s arms that made me feel that way?
Either way, it was perfect.
Almost suspiciously perfect …
My afterglow bliss was shattered a few hours later by the sound of a sharp, masculine scream, cut off with a choking sound and the slamming of feet on the floor. My eyes flew open, and I sat up in bed with all three of my husbands in time to see Hex careen into the room, shirtless and terrified.
“He’s back,” he said, his face pale even in the warm glow of the fire. He was pointing at the door with a shaking hand, goose bumps springing up over his exposed flesh. “He’s back again. I can’t believe this is happening. Here, now, of all places.” Hex was frantic, barely coherent, clearly freaked-out.
Connard, on the other hand, had sauntered in behind him and then stretched himself out on the floor in front of the fire. In contrast to Hex’s wild fear, the cat appeared bored. He licked his paw while his master yanked on his black and orange hair in clear distress.
I sensed nothing inside the wards we’d cast to protect the lodge, and I yawned, stretching my arms above my head.
“What on earth are you yammering on about?” Argent drawled out, clearly annoyed and exhausted. He despised being woken up for anything but necessity or sex. “It better be good because I’m this close to losing my temper with you.”
Caine snorted and rolled onto his side, ignoring the half-demon entirely. The kids were through another door behind and to the left of our bed, away from whatever was bothering Hex. Regardless, Spectre stood up, dressed in black silk boxers and nothing else, and peeped in on them.
With a frown, he turned back to Hex and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Kids are okay. What’s your problem?” he asked, and Hex turned a stricken look back on the four of us.
“There’s a boogeyman under my bed,” he breathed, and we all just stared at him. Boogeymen were real, if rare, and I hardly believed there was one in our hotel room of all places. In the middle of the Ozarks? During a snowstorm? Why?
“Gods above and below, help me with this colossal idiot,” Argent murmured, rubbing at the side of his head.
“He’s your problem now.” Connard seemed almost pleased with the situation. The cat sat smugly and neither denied nor confirmed Hex’s story.
“Aw, poor baby,” Caine teased, his face still buried in a pillow. “You need to sleep in the big bed with mommy and daddy?”
“Dude, go fuck yourself. There’s a goddamn boogeyman under my friggin’ bed!” Hex gestured with both hands in the direction of the closed bedroom door. “This happened to me once when I was a kid, but I haven’t seen him in years …”
“You had a boogeyman as a child?” Spectre clarified and then, because he was clearly the nicest out of us all, he went to the door and opened it.
There it was, in all its strange glory, a fucking boogeyman with long hair crafted of shadows that swirled and danced in a supernatural breeze that affected it and only it. Or should I say he (not all boogeymen were dudes, despite the name) because this one was very clearly a man. He was shirtless, as they often are, and sporting hard pecs, an eight-pack, and wide smile with sharp teeth.
“Crewen Priaposia,” it purred, and Hex growled right back at it.
“No, you fuck right off,” he said, pointing at it again with his shaking hand as Spectre stood there completely dumbfounded. It’s hard to do that, you know, to dumbfound a witch-vampire half-breed who used to be a famous underground rockstar, now a father to four kids four-and-under. Especially with that last bit. “You go right back to Hael where you came from.”
