Page 16 of Ghost
Diesel chuckles, swinging off his bike. “Man doesn’t ever bring anyone up here. Got no one to impress. Just needs a space to cool off when he’s pissed.”
Warden snorts as he looks over to the tattoo-covered biker, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll bet you fifty he’s got a secret shrine to Judge in there. Framed pictures, the whole deal.”
Diesel scratches his cheek, considering it as he looks at the dilapidated structure. “Those two have a weird thing, I’ll give you that. But a shrine? I don’t think it’s that bad. Ripper’s just… a little protective of him. In his own, gore-happy way.”
Their easy banter is a stark contrast to the heavy silence of the woods. As the men start a perimeter check, I slowly dismount, my legs feeling like jelly. My arms feel strangely empty without him to hold onto.
Ghost follows soon after, his sharp eyes scanning the tree line, but for a moment, his gaze finds mine.
“Lots of open space up here. Privacy for miles, it seems. May take a little adjusting for both of us.” He looks out toward the town in the distance.
I like the idea of all this fresh air surrounding us. It’s a natural remedy to the suffocation I’ve forced myself to grow accustomed to.
“Maybe I’ll get a tan,” I joke, hoping to ease any stress weighing down on him. “It’s about time I get some sun.”
He cracks a smile, and I know my attempt has been successful.
The men finish their sweep and gather by their bikes. Warden gives Ghost a sharp nod. “Perimeter’s clear. We weren’t followed. You’re good.”
Jinx, a face I recognize as being the one doing unseen things against a certain jukebox, claps a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, his grin widening as his eyes dart between the two of us. “We’ll keep you caught up on everything that happens down below.” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone meant just for us. “And as far as I’m concerned, you can treat this whole thing like a honeymoon getaway.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but it’s not entirely from embarrassment. A hopeful, fluttering feeling takes root in my chest, so light and foreign it feels like a bird trying to escape its cage. I dare a glance at Ghost. He doesn’t smile, but the look he gives me in return makes my breath catch. It’s an answer in itself.
He’s thought about what it’ll be like once we get some privacy to ourselves.
As the rumble of their bikes fades into the mountain, a profound quiet descends. We are truly alone. The shabby cabin isn’t just a hiding place anymore; it’s a threshold. And as I stand there with him, the man who is both my kidnapper and my rescuer, I can’t help but wonder what will happen now that we’ve crossed it.
“Let’s go see what kind of weird shit that guy is into.” Muttering the words, he grabs my hand and leads me toward the cabin to face the unknown.
9
Ghost
The first few nights on this mountain silence are a special kind of hell. It has nothing to do with being cut off from my systems or the club’s chatter. The torture is Eliza.
She’s a living, breathing temptation, and she’s not even trying. It’s in the way she sighs in her sleep, the soft rustle of her clothes as she shuffles around in the next room over, the simple, innocent fact of her breathing. Every sound is a hook in my gut, pulling me closer to the edge. Just having her exist within arm’s reach is a test of will I’m failing by the minute.
The last thing I want is for her to think I’m actually a beast in disguise. If she knew what I was thinking, how many times I’ve talked myself down from claiming her innocence as my own, she wouldn’t accidentally make me suffer by clinging to my side all the time.
I’ve been a statue, keeping my hands locked down, channeling every ounce of control into not reaching for her.But she’s the one unraveling me, each touch coming from her tempting fingers.
Last night, standing in front of Ripper’s pathetic stash of snacks, she’d asked for my help to reach a box on the top shelf. The moment I stepped close, her hand didn’t go for the box. It fisted in my shirt, and she pulled me into a kiss that filled a hunger no bag of chips could even try to satisfy. It was over too soon, leaving me hard and aching, staring down at her flushed, impatient face.
That’s how it goes. A brush of her fingers when she passes me a coffee. Her knee pressed against mine on the worn-out couch. A kiss that starts soft and ends with my pulse hammering in my ears.
We’ve danced right up to the line. The kisses are hungry, the petting is anything but light, but we haven’t crossed it. We haven’t pushed forward.
From the restless way she looks at me, her lips parted, her eyes filled with the same need… I think she’s reaching her limit, too.
It’s the news that comes our way after a week that Ripper’s captured a spy that helps bring us back to reality.
Eliza’s being searched for. Someone wants her. That little fact claws at me and brings out this side of me that’s more than just wanting the woman—something I can only describe as territorial.
A ring wouldn’t be enough to call her mine. Down deep, I know the only way she’ll be mine entirely is if I feed into this greed and take everything.
“Can I ask you something?”
Eliza’s soft voice cuts through the static in my head, the constant, low hum of wanting her. She’s staring at her cards, her brow furrowed in a way that’s become familiar over the last fewdays—one of the few activities we’ve managed to scrounge up for entertainment in this cabin.
