Sleet Banshee by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER TWO

MEGHAN

My many layers of clothing are going to all be for naught when I catch a cold from walking around all night with damp panties. Because holy heart attack, Zach’s friends are stupidly-attractive. I should’ve assumed they’d be, since Zach is hot and Jackson is hot. But even if I’d tried to prepare myself, I wouldn’t’ve been successful, because Zach’s friend Sebastian, aka "Ash" LeBlanc - star goalie for the Sleet, is in a league of his own.

I know I’ve seen photos of him. And I’ve seen him play. But seeing him up close and personal has my ovaries short-circuiting, releasing a bucket-load of hormones straight into my thong.

Zach’s already distracted by the beautiful Izzy, so I guess I’ll just stand here staring since no one is doing introductions.

I’m an average five-foot-five, so Sebastian towers over me at around six-three. The man is the epitome of Tall Dark and Handsome. His last name sounds French, but his olive skin, black wavy hair, strong jawline, and five o’clock shadow deep enough to crawl into, make him look all Greek. I don’t know much about the Greek, but I do know they make finger-licking good food. So throw this man on a platter and call him a snack, because I. Am. Salivating.

His player reputation is well known, but - whatever, I’m no saint. And I want a taste.

The sun’s dipped below the horizon, and the descending night makes his brown eyes look almost black. He’s wearing jeans and a dark grey sweatshirt. But even with the hood up, his black, shoulder-length wavy hair is visible around his face. His clothing hides the sinful form of his body, and since I’ve seen photos of Sebastian without his shirt on, I know his clothes are hiding his full sleeve tattoos. I don’t care who you are, sleeve tats on a burly Greek god are always a Yes, Please!

I’m not sure why I’m surprised to see Sebastian here; he obviously knows Zach, but I hadn’t realized they were friends. Not that I would’ve dressed any differently had I known he was coming, but maybe I would’ve worn thicker undies.

Izzy’s scream pulls me out of my ogling. I’m not even sure Sebastian knows who I am, but I have plans for tonight and standing here won’t get Izzy into Zach’s arms.

“Let’s get this party on the road!” I call out, turning toward the entrance.

Striding ahead, I make a point to be aware of my surroundings. I might be excited about being here, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t scream like a little girl the first time something jumps out at me. I have a real love-hate relationship with haunted houses. I love them. I hate them. I scream. I swear. I smile when it’s over.

The one part I always forget about is having to wait in line. Somehow Katelyn and I got into a wedding planning conversation with the wives of Zach’s college buddies, so I’m surprised when I see that we’re up next.

Izzy looks like she’s about to bail. Or puke. She spots me looking at her and grips my arm so hard I’m afraid her nails are going to cut my skin. As casually as possible, I shift our stance until I’m the one holding her arm. The lady in charge gives me a nod. So, without giving Izzy time to protest, I pull her into the haunted Santa’s Workshop.

I saw one of the Santa characters walking around earlier, and he resembled the Sleet Yeti mascot more than a childhood happy memory. I’m equal parts excited and terrified to do this.

Right before we pass through the door, I look back to make sure Zach is right behind us. Catching his attention, I throw him a wink. I really hope this stud has some brains and knows what I’m getting at. If he doesn’t step in, Izzy is going to kill me for this next move.

The door slams shut behind us, and Izzy screams.

I feel like the worst friend ever, but it’s now or never. I let go of her arm and sprint ahead into the dark.

I hear another scream and hope that Zach takes his cue.

Except this is the part of the plan I didn’t really think through. Because now I’m walking through this creepy Christmas slum by myself.

Oh, boy this was a bad idea.

Having no one and nothing to grab on to, I tuck my hands into the end of my sleeves and bring my covered fists to my mouth. Hopefully I’ll be able to muffle my own screams so I can pretend calmness when I make it out the other side.

The first room I walk through is nightmare inducing, but nothing has jumped out at me yet. From past experiences, I’d bet they’re waiting for a friend to catch up. Most people don’t do this shit alone.

In my peripheral vision I see someone, or something, rush towards me, so I scream and take off into the next room.

I know you aren’t supposed to run inside here, but I need to find a buddy like right-the-fuck now. The consensus is in; I can’t do this alone.

I push through some rubber flaps to enter the next room and suck in a deep breath. Body parts… everywhere.

I keep my eyes on the ceiling and not on the gore sprawled across the floor. If I can’t see it, it can’t scare me.

Thinking this is the best idea ever, I release the breath I’ve been holding. Then, with my eyes still up, a pair of bloody Santa legs drop from the ceiling.

Right in front of me.

I stumble back tripping over some unknown lump.

I’m going down.

My instincts are torn to the point of inaction. The fright part of my brain wants to cover my eyes. The smart part of my brain tells me to reach back and brace my fall. Instead, my arms flail out to the side, achieving neither goal.

With a scream stuck in my throat, all I’m able to do is clamp my eyes shut and pray for death.

As I tip past the point of no return, my shoulders hit a hard surface... and a pair of strong arms circle around my waist.

The sudden contact releases the scream that was snagged in my vocal cords.

“Hush. I got you, Baby," a deep voice rumbles into my ear.

The octave is so low that I feel the vibrations dance across my scalp like a mating call. It’s a voice I’ve heard before. One that I’ve already started to fantasize about.

“Sebastian?” I croak out.

Real fucking sexy, Meg.

“Nice to finally meet you.” I can tell he’s chuckling from the way his chest is shaking against my back.

A loud bang startles another scream out of me, causing Sebastian to laugh outright.

He may be hotter than anyone I’ve ever met, but that doesn’t mean he gets special treatment. I elbow him in the ribs and wiggle free from his grip.

Forcing my face into a scowl, I turn to look at him.

Fuck me, this man is my new wet dream.

His hood is still up, making it nearly impossible to see his face. But the hint is enough. His hotness causes my brain to lapse, and I forget what I was about to say.

“Come on, we gotta keep moving before they catch up.” Placing his large hands on my shoulders he turns me to face forward.

I’m still so stunned by this change of events that I go along for a few steps before I realize that he’s shoving me into the next room ahead of him.

Spinning around, I grab a hold of his sleeve and pull. “Look here, jackhole. You are not sending me in first like a sacrificial lamb. Get your big sexy ass in there and clear the way.”

Sebastian grins as he strides past me. “You think I’m sexy?”

I just roll my eyes. With a voice like his, you don’t even need to see him to think he’s sexy.

Long legs mean long strides, and before I know it, he’s half a room ahead of me.

Maybe this is a good strategy? Maybe the creepy crawlies will go after him first?

“Pretty girl!” a high-pitched voice screeches right behind me.

As I scream, my body automatically rotates to look for the source of the voice. I don’t want to turn around. Seeing the source of this voice is honestly the last thing I want. But I can’t stop myself. I’ll have a stern talk with my body about this reaction later, when this image keeps me awake tonight.

Bracing, I find myself face-to-neck with a beheaded woman.

I know it’s fake. I know that’s a prosthetic neck, placed on the head of a short person who’s covered in a cloak. I know all of this, and it's still the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.

The voice cackles, and the bitch steps even closer.

Finally my body responds, turning and running for dear life. Sebastian is still standing in the middle of the room, laughing his stupid sexy ass off.

“You twatwaffle! I hate you!” I shout, as I rush past him.

“No running!” is his response.

I want to ditch him, but I know that’s more of a punishment for me than him. He seems unmoved by any of this, so I decide to do the smart thing and wait for him to catch up.

“Okay,” I say when he steps through the doorway to join me. “We’re going to go through this together. You’ll go first, but you won’t ditch me like you did back there.”

“Why do I have to go first?” Sebastian asks.

“Because you’re bigger. There’s more of you to go around if the zombies decide to attack. Now come on.”

I’m positive I’m trying his patient exterior as I tug on the front of his sweatshirt.

“I have a better idea," he says, before spinning me around. “You go first.”

He keeps his hands on my shoulders and starts to push me forward.

“What?! No! What the fuck is wrong with you?” I’m shuffling my feet, trying to fight the forward momentum. “Take one too many pucks to the head or something?” I hiss over my shoulder at him.

He leans in closer. “You’re pretty feisty for a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

Cute? I’m honestly not sure what to think about that. Yeah, sure, "cute" is a compliment. But it’s not the sort of compliment I want to hear from the demon sex god standing right behind me. Hot, stunning, sexy - take your pick. But cute…?

“Cat got your tongue?” I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Lookie here, buckaroo-”

That’s how far I get before a half-dead elf pops out from a hidden panel in the wall.

“What kind of Santa titty-twister hell hole is this?” I shout at the elf’s face.

And Sebastian is back to laughing. I’m glad this is all so damn amusing for him.

Grabbing my hand, he steps past me and pulls me forward.

Finally, he’s going first!

I surprise myself when I have enough wherewithal to register the feel of my hand in his giant one. His palm is warm and dry and entirely consuming mine. He’s tall. Not a giant, but his hands seem giant-like. And I can’t help but wonder, does Sebastian have a giant dick to go with these oversized mitts? God, I hope so. Even if I don’t get the pleasure of experiencing it myself, I hope he’s big. For his sake. It’d look really strange to wrap monster hands around an average-size cock.

And just like that, I’m imagining him jerking off. And it’s hot. Like - turning me on, my hand is gonna start sweating, hot.

I must’ve been fantasizing for longer than I thought, because I suddenly find myself standing outside. The exit for the Santa House of Horrors behind us.

“You alright?” Sebastian asks.

He’s standing next to me and has yet to let go of my hand.

“Huh? Me?”

He smiles. “Yeah, you.”

“I’m fine.” I shrug, then I hope the movement doesn’t jostle his hand enough to remind him that he should let go. I don’t want him to let go.

“Well, you cried like a baby for the first half of that house, then you walked through the rest without a single flinch.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

Out here, there’s enough light that I can see his facial expressions. And it's dangerous.

“I was…”

I was what? What am I possibly going to say? I was distracted wondering if you have a donkey cock. Yeah, I don’t think so.

“You were… ?” he prompts.

“I was thinking.” There. Good enough.

“Thinking about what?” He smirks, like he knows.

I huff. “What does it matter?”

“Well, I’m just wondering what could’ve possibly distracted you so greatly that you’d suddenly stop noticing all the things that frightened you so terribly just moments before.”

Frightening me so terribly. This prick.

“You really want to know? You’re that damn curious?”

“Yes, I want to know.” His voice, ugh, it’s so sultry. So confident.

Time to put him through the Speak Your Mind Test.

“I was thinking about the size of your cock. Wondering if it fits in your big hands or if it’s teeny-tiny and you have to daintily grip it every time you whack your weenie.” Smiling sweetly, I let go of his hand and skip away.

Score one to Meghan.

I think.