Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (30)
Pulling my attention away, I said, “Thank you for everything. I hope I see you later.” I waved goodbye to their flapping wings and made my way down the rope ladder. Something stirred in my chest. But for once, it wasn’t fear. It should have been fear, but it was something else. Something I couldn’t name. I’d come to Ash Grove running from something, someone. From my past, from my mistakes, from my stepfather. My death awaited me. It was inevitable. I’d been to countless cities with various levels of hope each time I started again. And then a letter found me, followed by a rusty pickup truck. He kept finding me. He kept following. And I kept running. Now, I’d decided to stay and dance until I died. I’d go every night to this damn, weird festival until he caught me and killed me. Until I couldn’t come the next night. And god damn, if I weren’t being followed in here too. This was supposed to be my safe space. Where I could wear a mask and blend in. A space I could celebrate my favorite holiday one last time. And this asshole was trying to scare me. I resolved to confront him and tell him to fuck off, but when my heels tapped the ground . . . he’d vanished again. Annoyance roiled through me as I stomped and slid ungracefully down the hill and made my way into the crowd of concert goers. An energetic song played, and people danced. And I joined them. I danced, head buzzing from the tangy mead. I lifted my hands to the sky, shook my ass, and dipped low and popped up. I danced until my neck was slick and soaked with sweat. I danced until my corset and fishnets felt wet with perspiration. No one cared. No one looked at me like I was anything but one of them. This wasn’t like prom or any function I’d ever been to. This was something entirely new. The music had a life of its own. This place, Hallows, Ash Grove, had a life of its own. And I existed inside of it like a soul or racing blood. I became a part of it all that night, if even for the briefest moment. The fast set slowed, and the crowd roared with applause. I rested my hands on my knees, panting and laughing. A wolf man lifted his palm and smiled with fangs. I high-fived his leathery paw, catching my breath. The band announced they were sending us off with a slow song. Something romantic, the lead vampire man proclaimed. Everyone around me coupled up, and then it did feel like prom. It didn’t matter. I’d gotten so much more than I’d come for. And I wanted to do it again the next night, and the next, for as long as I was . . . here.
I turned on my heel to weave through the dancing couples. The hint of piano wafted through the crowd. It was gorgeous. All of a sudden, the crowd parted like a wave, making way before me. I looked around in confusion, and then I saw him.
He straightened the collar on his leather jacket and strode forward with all the confidence of any predator. I stood my ground and crossed my arms. My ghostly stalker. “What the hell do you want?”
He stopped a foot in front of me, silent, and even the music paused. Everyone’s gaze unabashedly fixed to us. I could have sworn the side of his mouth curved slightly. It was hard to tell under the heavy white and black detailed paint of his skeleton mask. Without a word, he extended a palm. When I raised a brow in confusion, he bowed slightly, putting his other arm behind his back. “You’re . . . asking me to dance?”
The soft piano melody began again as all sorts of creatures around me smiled or giggled. What the hell, I’m going to die anyway. I placed my hand in his and he straightened. Gripping my palm, he pulled me with force into his hard chest. Air escaped my lungs upon warm impact, and we began to move with the music. The couples around us went back to their dances as the enchanting tune played. He was hard, and warm, and silent. When I finally got the nerve to look up, his deep blue gaze fixed to mine immediately. I gasped. He was beautiful, even hidden by paint. His black hair was brushed black and shone blue under the moon’s glow. Something in his stare softened and my heart quickened. Losing my step, I tripped over his foot, but he held me up firm, as if I weighed nothing. “Joke’s on you. I can’t dance,” I whispered. He was so close and towering over me. I should have been telling him to fuck off, to get away from me, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. His aroma touched each breath I took: bergamot, lavender, and oakmoss. It was a heady, addicting scent. The desire to bury in my face in his chest and kiss his jaw was so strong it overwhelmed and disturbed me.
His mouth quirked again as he crisscrossed my wrists and pulled my back to his chest. My core heated at feeling his hot breath on my ear. He then pushed his nose into my hair and sucked in. Was he smelling me? Before I could say anything, his rough, white and black painted finger softly trailed down the curve of my neck. Goosebumps pricked my skin as warmth found the space between my thighs. I was panting again, and this time from a completely different kind of dancing. One that heated me from the inside. I leaned my head back onto his chest and sighed. “That feels nice.”
Abruptly, he spun me around and out, letting go of one hand. When I spun back, expecting to crash into him, only air met my back. I turned around, searching, but he was nowhere to be found. Only the shimmer of a fine blue fog was left.
After winding my way through the masses, I walked down the main path. Pockets of folks chatted and laughed, some glancing my way, others oblivious. I hugged my arms to my ribs to beat the oncoming, late night October chill hitting my damp skin. My dance partner’s smell still lingered in my hair. Unashamed of looking like a fool, I brought a lock of golden brown to my nose and inhaled deeply, savoring the lavender and woodsy and leather. Whoever he was, following me was annoying, and I planned to confront him if he continued to do so. But a small longing inside me hoped he would. Maybe he was watching me weave my way back to my car. The skin on the back of my neck prickled in awareness of danger, or hope, or maybe both. That dance . . . He was likely just toying with me. It meant nothing to him. Not even a fraction of what it meant to me. To have my dying wish fulfilled . . . to be taken in by the land of misfits and to dance, and laugh, and explore was everything. Ending the night with my body pressed to a mysterious and intoxicating masked man . . . It was more than I ever could have dreamed of. Death was always on my mind. Death was always nearby.