Page 16

I finally glanced to my right. The fallen fence panels gave me a direct view of Ewen’s own back porch, and he was sprawled casually in a deck chair, smoking a cigarette and sipping a beer. The light from his kitchen window illuminated him from behind.

Heat flooded my face. He was dressed, at least. Well, barely. He was wearing sweatpants. And he was in his human form, which meant his head was firmly on his shoulders. He’d tied his long, dirty blond hair up into a messy bun.

Probably to keep it out of the way during round two, I thought before I could stop myself, then flushed even hotter. My dick twitched in my pants, still tingling from that giant orgasm. It sent panic streaking through me, so I hurriedly dropped into a deck chair.

“Hi,” I said tightly, clutching my glass of water.

“Can’t sleep?”

He’d rolled his head along the back of the chair to look at me, and I watched him furtively out of the corner of my eye as he brought his cigarette up to his lips for a deep drag.

I’d probably want a post-nut cigarette too after sucking my own dick.

I was trying desperately to ignore how sated and relaxed he looked, because I knew the exact reason why. And now I was picturing it again. Fuck.

“I—My sleep schedule’s still a bit off from adjusting to work,” I said, wanting to cringe at how hoarse my voice sounded.

He chuckled, slouching lower in his chair and stretching out his long legs with a satisfied grunt. “Yeah, takes some getting used to.”

I side-eyed him as he drew on his cigarette again, head tipped back and sated gaze absently trained on the night sky.

I bet he came ridiculously hard. As hard as I did. Harder.

“That’s really bad for you,” I blurted, trying to get rid of the thoughts.

He smirked, looking over at me again. “Nah, not for me. Or you.”

I supposed he was correct. Some non-humans—including ghouls—kind of straddled the line between dead and alive. We didn’t technically need to breathe, we weren’t susceptible to many illnesses, and it took a lot more of things like alcohol or weed to really affect us. I guessed dullahans were the same, which made sense. Their heads were literally separated from their bodies.

“Plus, I can do this,” Ewen added, and I looked over to see him put the cigarette between his lips, then cup the back of his head. An insubstantial ripple went over his body as a thin black line appeared across his throat. Then his now-severed head tipped back into his waiting hand, exposing his neck hole.

His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on the cigarette, before perfect rings of smoke wafted from the neck of his severed head, one after another, floating up into the air. I huffed in amusement before I could stop myself.

Dan grinned around the cigarette, then rested his head back on his neck as the ripple went over him again and that black line across his throat vanished. He plucked the cigarette from his lips and exhaled a normal stream of grey smoke. “Took me years to perfect that.”

“Neat trick,” I deadpanned, running my thumb over the condensation on my glass as I hunched awkwardly in my chair.

He always made me feel awkward. Like a loser. Like he was the big, popular jock and I was still the skinny, quiet kid at school who was in the chess club and wore black eyeliner to feel rebellious.

But I was starting to realise that he didn’t actually do much to make me feel that way. It was a projection. It was internal. I always just assumed that he would tease me like those shitty high school jocks, so I got defensive before he could.

Maybe I was a dick to Dan. Not the other way around.

“Want a beer?”

I looked over to see him reach down and pluck two more bottles from the six-pack next to his chair. Before I could answer, he stood and flicked his cigarette butt away, then sauntered off his deck and directly over the fallen fence panels cutting across both our yards.

My mouth flattened. Maybe I was a dick to Ewen, but he was still a dick back in his own ways. He hadn’t even removed the broken fence panels yet, and I refused to do it because it was his friend who’d caused the damage. His mess. His responsibility to fix.

He chuckled as if he knew what I was thinking, padding up onto my deck with bare feet. “I’ll get rid of ’em this weekend, handso—neighbour.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but found myself reaching out to take the bottle he was offering. Then I tensed as he dropped into the other deck chair with a sigh and twisted the cap off his fresh beer.

“Finally gettin’ those welcome drinks, eh?” He grinned and leaned over to tap his bottle against mine.

“Thanks,” I muttered, setting down my glass and twisting the cap off my own bottle. The first sip felt a million times more refreshing than the water had, somehow, and I relaxed slightly.

Only slightly. Because now Ewen was sitting just a few feet away.