Page 36 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
“I wasn’t going to let you die,” he says quietly.
Something in his voice breaks me a little.
“Youshouldn’thave been able to save me,” I whisper. “You’re not... you’re not solid.”
“Not until now.”
We watch each other, water dripping from our clothes, breath mingling in the cold night air. The tension’s thick enough to drown in, and not in the sexy way.
I fold my arms. “So what the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But something in that vault—it recognized you. And it sure as hell didn’t like you touching it without the key.”
I roll my eyes. “Because relics are justsoparticular.”
He chuckles. It’s low and rough and does dangerous things to my spine.
“What now?” I ask.
Elias looks toward the waves, eyes scanning the darkness. “Now we find that key. Before the vault decides to finish what it started.”
“And if it’s already too late?”
He turns to me, storm in his eyes. “Then we make it regret trying.”
I don’t know whether to kiss him or push him back into the sea.
Probably both.
But instead, I mutter, “I need dry clothes and therapy.”
He grins.
“I’ll get you a towel. The rest… might take longer.”
CHAPTER 14
ELIAS
The storm batters Mira’s cottage like a warship ramming the hull. Candles gutter as Sienna slams the door, her hair dripping seawater and defiance. We’ve argued for hours—about keys, fathers, the way her wet suit clings to her hips. My hands flex at the memory of hauling her from the vault, the first touch in a century that didn’t pass through mist.
She strips off her jacket, shoulders rigid. “If you’re going to lecture me again about caution?—”
I catch her wrist. The contact sparks like flint on steel. Her pulse thrums against my palm. “Never once lectured a woman while she’s got a knife in her boot.”
“What are you doing, then?”
“Remembering.” I step closer. Salt air clings to her skin. Not the dead brine of my wreck, but living salt—sweat and sea and something citrus beneath.
Her breath hitches. “Elias…”
The warning in her voice ignites me. I back her against the wall, forearm braced beside her head. Her pupils swallow the candlelight. One heartbeat. Two.
Her mouth crashes into mine.
It’s not a sailor’s kiss—all clumsy hunger. This is a duel. Teeth catching lips, fingers twisting in hair, her hips grinding against the hardness straining my trousers. She tears at my shirt buttons. “Don’t you fucking vanish.”
“Can’t.” I lift her, her legs locking around my waist as I carry her toward the hearth. “Not when you’re here.”
