They would have to leave. There was no way around it. It had been an eventuality she had prepared for — her single valise was packed and stowed in the saddlebag at Gunpowder’s side, secured in the darkness of the stable, only moments before Brom had called out to her. They would have to leave for no other reason than his appearance, she thought. There would be no way to explain his mysterious injury, no way to explain his sudden loss of language. His neck bore the evidence of his injury — a gruesome-looking red crescent, not something easily explained away by a fall off a horse . . . unless . . .
The Van Brunt residence would be their next stop. Brom Bones was not wealthy, but his home was well provisioned, several hectares of good land, several horses in the stable and cows in the pasture. They might be able to stay for a time, at least through the winter months. She would spin a yarn that he had taken ill, something contagious, something that required him to stay indoors and for others to stay away. They could move on come spring, when the ground thawed and the snows melted . . .
Unless the good people of Sleepy Hollow were once more willing to overlook the faults of their resident local hero. Men who held the admiration of other men could be forgiven for just about anything, after all. If the residents of the Hollow had been able to ignore the fact that Brom Bones bore no resemblance to his alleged father, she couldn’t see why they would quibble over the same handsome, strapping golden boy bearing an injury.
Not easily explained, but Katrina had long ago accepted there were things in this world that were simply unexplainable. It did no good to go poking holes in the veil between the world of the living and the dead, for the dead were always watching, always waiting, always ready to come seeking what was theirs.
She could see the outline of the body slung over the back of his horse. Katrina closed her eyes and turned away. It was not the way she wanted to remember him. They were entangled, and the only way to free them was to snap one of the threads. She had made her choice.
He was hot against her, hot andalive, and as she pressed her face to his broad chest, his heat subsuming her, Katrina felt the thump of his heartbeat. She moaned as he rubbed his cock d head against her slickened folds, pushing into her slowly, stretching her walls.I’m going to fuck you, over and over again. That was what he’d rasped against her neck, she was certain, his vocal cords reedy, like the cracked bellows of an organ. Whether it was a promise or threat, she couldn’t be certain, but she was looking forward to it either way. She reached down between their bodies to grip his heavy sac, gasping with the action earned him sucking at her pulse point, teeth dragging against her throat again. His balls were swollen and hot, and she rolled them as he began to thrust against her, filling her with his cock, each pump of his hips dragging against the spot inside her that made her toes curl.
Over and over again. Perhaps they would be able to stay for the winter. Give him time to readjust to the world of the living, give her time to work out what they would do next, give Sleepy Hollow a chance to adapt to the new Brom Bones, perhaps, and give the two of them plenty of time for him to fulfill such a promise.
She had never fit in anywhere, and was used to being a leaf blowing along the empty road. Only now, Katrina thought, squeezing her legs around his hips as his cock rocked into her slowly, she wouldn’t be blowing alone. She would adapt and adjust and survive, just as she always had.
Life tethered to death, from the moment she drew breath.
