Page 54 of Noctis

“Did you think I wouldn’t follow?” he asked curiously.

“Yes,” I answered honestly. “You were gone for days before I left rehab. I tried calling you and you didn’t appear. I even tried to say goodbye to you. I figured you’d moved on to someone else.”

He lifted his hand and ran a finger down my bare arm. Goosebumps appeared in its wake. Not because I was scared. Quite the opposite. His hand kept going, sliding beneath the sheet until it cupped my hip, my cock already beginning to stir at the gentle display of possessiveness. “I wasn’t interested in anyone else.”

“You were interested in Laura.” I sounded like a jealous idiot.

“Laura was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before you. Now there is only you.”

“You sound like an addict. Maybe you spent too long in rehab and it rubbed off on you.”

His hand kept going, curling around my spent cock, which was already back to being semi-erect. “Do you live here?”

“What?” I’d been too focused on what his hand was doing. “No. I had a… I guess you’d call it a problem.”

Caligo’s hand started stroking me again. “What sort of problem?”

“What are you? A therapist?” I lay back and opened my thighs wider to give him better access. Somewhere in my brain, I knew I should take him to task for yet again inviting himself into my bed when I hadn’t expected him. But it felt so damn good.

“Tell me what the problem is.”

I told him as concisely as I could, far more interested in what his hand was doing. Halfway through, I threw the sheet back so I could watch, fascinated by the way his hand looked on my cock—how sometimes it appeared completely solid, while at other times, tendrils of shadow drifted from it and belied how solid it felt. I got to the end of the story only seconds before I came for the second time.

I lay back and closed my eyes, completely satiated and no longer concerned about the “monster” sharing my bed. Apparently, monsters were fine as long as they were so obsessed with your dick that they gave you two orgasms in quick succession.

“What can I do to help?” Caligo asked.

I made a sleepy, questioning sound. Right… Tyler. “Nothing, unless you can get him out of my house.”

“I can do that.”

My eyes snapped open, and I turned over to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I can kill him.”

The words should have been more shocking than they were. I should have at least felt a sense of discomfort. Instead, there was only irritation that it wasn’t the magical solution I’d been hoping for. “That’s not what I’m looking for.”

“No?”

Caligo sounded confused, as if he couldn’t possibly envision a scenario in which I wouldn’t want that. “If he’s dead, he can’t be in your house. If you’re concerned about the corpse, I can get rid of it.”

Was I really having this conversation at—I quickly checked the time—half past four in the morning?

“Humans don’t just kill people to get what they want?”

“No?” There was a frown in his voice.

He wasn’t the only one frowning. “Okay. Some do.” Don’t think about your mother. “I’m not one of them. I want him to leave, not to be carried out in a body bag.”

“I don’t have any body bags.”

“You know what I’m saying.” At least I hoped he did. “I want you to go into my house and threaten him.”

“And then kill him if he doesn’t listen to me?”