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The Boogie Man folds his wings behind his back and rises off the bed.
Panic pounds on my chest with heavy fists. I can’t move, I can’t breathe, I can’t think of anything except the way he’ll secure my death.
The Boogie Man offers me his hand again.
My gaze drops to his open palm, and my brow furrows. This is probably some sort of trick.
I skitter backward and scream, “Get away from me.”
His shoulders sag, and his features fall with what looks like disappointment.
A hysterical laugh bursts from my lungs. He has the nerve to look disheartened after breaking into my house and climbing into bed with me without my consent?
My heart beats so hard, its echoes muffle the sound of my frantic breaths.
“How did you get in?” I ask, my voice trembling.
The Boogie Man doesn’t answer—the bastard doesn’t have the decency to explain how he overcame my coven’s defenses.
Blood roars between my ears, fueling my rage. I want to tell myself that the locket still works, but if it did, he could never have been able to climb into my bed and tangle his limbs with mine.
If it did, he would never have been able to give me the most powerful orgasm of my life.
I should get up, run, call for Grandma, but the lead weight of dread keeps my ass rooted to the floor.
“What did you do to my hound?” I ask.
Once again, he doesn’t answer.
His silence makes my ears ring. Tears rise to the corners of my eyes, and I blink hard to hold them back. I shouldn’t even need to ask. Not when I saw the Boogie Man claw Aggie. Not when I saw him decapitate Norbert.
He must have murdered my poor companion and slithered into his place on the bed.
“Where’s my hound? Did you kill him to get close to me? What did you do?”
His long pause twists my insides into painful knots.
In my dream, I rode King Henry’s face until I climaxed. The Boogie Man must have performed oral sex on me while I was asleep. There’s no other explanation, and his blank expression is beyond suspicious.
“I did nothing,” he finally replies.
My throat burns with a mix of terror and fury.
“Liar.”
The Boogie Man takes another step closer, sending a lance of panic through my heart.
I scramble to my feet and back toward the door.
He follows.
“Stay away.” I raise a palm and step back onto the living area’s cold, stone floor.
“I couldn’t touch you even if I wanted to,” he growls. “And the hound was me.”
My steps falter, and I gape at him over my shoulder. “What?”
The Boogie Man’s huge frame takes up the entire doorway, looking like the embodiment of my worst nightmare.
