Page 13 of Trick or Heat

I hold my breath as I tiptoe down the hallway, keeping close to the wall. Deep down, I know that this is a bad idea but I don’t want to cower in my room, not when someone could be stealing my blender. I practically live off that thing.

If they try to take my limited-edition Nightmare Before Christmas plate set, I’m going lose it.

My skin starts to prickle with sweat, and my veins thrum with adrenaline. My heart beats rapidly as I edge closer to the kitchen doorway, listening as the assailant moves around noisily. Pots and pans clink together just before I hear something hit the floor and shatter.

I wince. He isn’t a very good robber, apparently.

When I look around the corner, I’m prepared to use the lamp with all my might, expecting to see a faceless man wearing a ski mask, but all I see is… blond hair?

Casey looks up at me from the floor, one of my teacups shattered at his feet. When he sees the lamp in my grip, his brows raise.

“Uh, do I need to put my hands up in surrender?”

I let out a sigh of relief, my heart still beating wildly in my chest. “Casey! Fuck, I thought you went home.”

He chortles. Fucking chortles.

“Looks like someone has heat brain,” he jokes, looking between me and the lamp with an amused grin. “Why would you think I left?”

I flatten my lips, embarrassed by the insecurities that flashed in my gut. How I thought he would be disgusted by having to help me, turned off by what we did. How I figured that he would want to erase it from his memory and never speak of it again.

I don’t say a word, but I guess he can read me like an open book because he softens. He steps forward, his face turning somber. “I would never leave you when you need me, El. And as for last night… I had an amazing time. At the party and after.”

My stomach soars, butterflies fluttering on forbidden wings. I put a hand there and try to keep the emotion inside. “You promise?”

He nods, the cheeky grin twitching at the corner of his lips. “Promise, Elkie.”

I huff, annoyed by the nickname again, before I look around the kitchen. “What are you doing, then?”

“Attempting to make you breakfast,” he mutters, looking at the stove like its his enemy. A pan sits on top, pancakes poking out their little burnt faces at me. “I tried to make those fluffy pancakes you like, but it turns out I’m quite shit at it.”

I look past him; the counter is a mess. The pans are scattered along the counter with different attempts of burned pancake mixture and there’s a carton of broken egg shells off to the side, but through it all, I spot a bag of chocolate chips already open, like he was eating them while cooking.

“You just wanted to eat up all of my sweets,” I accuse.

He scoffs. “No I didn’t.”

I stifle a laugh. Casey has the biggest sweet tooth I’ve ever seen. He always goes for the chocolate option over everything else. It’s a wonder he doesn’t have a mouth full of cavities.

“I bet you ate all of your stash last week and have been fiending for more.”

He puts a hand to his chest. “W-w-what?” he says, exasperated. “Okay… I admit, I am freshly out of chocolate, but I was going to go to the trunk-or-treat event on campus on Halloween to re-up.”

My smile falls as my heart twinges at the realization. It’s a tradition on campus, and now I’ll be here, withering in pain instead. “I won’t be able to go now.”

We fall silent, the reality of what’s happening falling between us. “I’ll get you some,” he tells me. “We can eat our hearts out with sugar after your heat. You’ll probably want a plethora of chocolate after a week of forced sandwiches anyway.”

I give him a weak smile, nodding. There’s just one problem with that plan: it reinforces the fact that he won’t be here, won’t be where I desperately want him most.

“So,” he says, breaking the tension. “I made you some tea instead while I figure something else out.”

I look back at the shattered cup on the floor. “Tea but no teacup.”

His cheeks flush. “I’ll clean it up and bring you another one in a moment.”

I nod, letting him get back to it. If I’m completely honest, he could serve me anything and my omega would want to burst from my chest. I have no sense of self-preservation. If he made me something, I would eat it, no matter what it was. The simple thought of him trying to take care of me, giving me what I need, causes all logic to go right out the window.

I collapse onto the couch, the silk of my costume sliding against my bare backside. My cheeks flush, realizing the state I’m in, but then I peer back over, watching Casey clean up the broken porcelain, his costume still in place minus the leather shoulder harness and fake dagger. The green shirt is pulled tight over his muscles, and the pants hug his thighs in a way that makes me squirm.