Page 8 of His Sinner

She snorts. “What do you mean your mountain?”

“I mean, I own this mountain.”

“You own a mountain?”

“Yes, and once you marry me, so will you.”

She scoffs. “I’ve already told you marriage is never happening. Not with you or anybody.”

“Not with anybody,” I confirm. “But undoubtedly with me.”

Briar rolls her eyes, rubbing away the goosebumps springing up on her arms as she stares out the window. “Can we look around, at least? Scope out the place to make sure no one’s out there?”

“There is a private cemetery nearby. Perhaps you saw a ghost.” My taunt elicits an adorable scowl. “Or I suppose it could’ve been the groundskeeper. He’s usually not up here this time of year, let alone this time of night, but I always suspected he held certain...disturbing proclivities. I may or may not have based my necrophiliac protagonist on him.”

Thirty seconds after shaking the man’s hand, various scenarios were darting through my mind in which he snuck around the cemetery at night to defile corpses. I wouldn’t doubt he possesses a voyeurism kink as well.

Briar’s nose scrunches. “So maybe he wants to kill us and fuck our dead bodies? We definitely need to make sure we’re alone then. I won’t be able to sleep with a necrophiliac gravedigger running around.”

“I can secure the property while you stay inside where it’s safe.”

“No,” she says quickly. “I’m staying with you. Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? The second you split up, that’s when you both die. Or at least, that’s when the pretty girl dies.”

My muse doesn’t want to part from me. A few months ago, I was the person she trusted the least. The person she was most afraid of. Now, she’s trusting me to keep her safe. “Very well then. Stay by my side and don’t leave my sight.”

She rolls her eyes at my order and grumbles, “I’m the one who just said we shouldn’t split up.”

Our footsteps echo across the dark hardwood floor. By the front doors, I grab a pistol from the secret compartment behind an innocuous shelf.

“Do you have a secret gun collection stashed around your house?" Briar hisses.

“Only a gun for each of my enemies.” I flash her a wicked grin.

“Insane,” she mumbles.

I grab the loaded magazines, dropping two into my pocket and shoving one into the grip, racking the pistol with a metallic thunk. Hot and loaded.

We bundle up before heading out the door, and I shine the flashlight on my gun around the property as we slowly and silently make our way around the perimeter. Snow flurries fall gently in the night, flakes catching in Briar’s dark hair as the icy fingers of winter caress our exposed skin.

If there were any footprints marking someone’s path around my property, they’re gone now.

Briar lets out a small gasp. “There!”

“Where?” I hiss, unable to see where she’s pointing in the dark, and I’m sure as hell not aiming my fucking gun at her.

“To the left!”

I send the beam of light to where she directs. But there’s nothing around us other than snow and trees. Not even deer tracks mar the snow’s undisturbed surface.

“Shit,” she murmurs. “Just a tree.”

“Let’s check the cemetery.”

“Great. I love exploring creepy graveyards at night,” she grumbles, but she sticks by my side as we make the trek across the hard, compact snow.

Each of our footsteps crunches in the silence until we reach the wrought iron gate and open it with an ominous creak.

“Horror films aren’t this terrifying,” Briar whispers as my flashlight sweeps over the row of headstones dusted with snow.

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