Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (48)

“You can tell me,” he urged. Maybe it was the doctor in him, but he seemed insistent to know all the things I could never share with him. He’d hate me and never speak to me again if he knew what I’d done. So instead of telling him, I elaborated on my stupid nightmare. “When he talks to me, he’s always whispering. That’s it. I know it doesn’t sound scary, but it is.”

Ames turned his face away and tapped his foot against the creaky hardwood floor. I’d made him angry. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to—”

It happened so fast. His hand cupped my jaw in an instant, rushing the breath from my lungs as I gasped in surprise. He was so close I could smell the exhaust from his bike that lingered on his black T-shirt. “Stop. Apologizing,” he bit out. His breath was ragged as his lips parted. “I want you,” he rasped. It sounded more like a threat than a kind request, and my chest quenched. Shoving the blanket off, I pushed his hand away and stood. Pulling myself from his touch, from his angry demand and declaration was difficult, but I knew it hurt something inside me, hearing him like that. “Am I getting on your nerves sharing my past with you? You want me to stop apologizing, and what, suck your dick because you want me? Is that it?”

I could feel the anger radiating from him as he stood. Had he always been this freaking tall? “Is that all you think I’m after? You think we’re doing all this so I can fuck you? As if I couldn’t have already if I’d wanted to.”

Ouch.

Stomping across the room, the floorboard protested as I snatched my keys off his tiny butcher block countertop. “You only want me because you want to save me. I don’t need saving. And you can go fuck yourself, Dr. Cove.”

A guttural sound flew from his throat as he strode after me. My heart rate quickened, but I wasn’t afraid of him. My body, my idiotic body, wanted him. I wanted him to slam me against the wall and fuck me hard. I wanted to feel his rough hands between my thighs and slipping inside the wetness pooling there. I backed against the very door I wanted him to take me against when he stopped inches in front of me.

“You don’t want saving because you’re resigned to die. I’m not letting that happen.” I jumped as he slammed his fist on the doorframe. His other hand propped up next to me, caging me in. All I wanted was to slap his smug face . . . and wrap my legs around him and suck his bottom lip until it bled.

On a shaky inhale, I forced my gaze to my shoes as I replied, “That’s right. I’m okay with death more than the average person. Go ahead and psychoanalyze me all you want. I haven’t been running because I’m afraid of dying. I’ve been running because I’m afraid of not living. But I’m ready to stay. And either die, yes, or have a shot at living some sort of life. Have I fantasized about a hero? Sure. But I don’t need you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. So fucking wrong about everything, Blythe.” His mouth was open as he breathed heavily, and a small sigh escaped me at the feel of his breath on my neck as he leaned in, brushing his lips against my ear. His voice didn’t even sound like his as he growled. “I’m not the hero. I’m the villain. I’m so evil I make the gates of Hell shudder. And you do need me. You need me more than you know.”

An infuriating and heady mixture of anger and desire surged through me. I’d never felt so mad and turned on at the same time. Who did Ames think he was? “The villain?” I choked a laugh as my gaze faltered on his broad shoulders caging me in. “Mr. Town Nice Guy? The therapist who works for free? You’re perfect, Ames, too perfect. I’m not. I’m fucking damaged.”

A raspy chuckled emerged from his throat—not what I was expecting. He looked at me over his glasses, his blue eyes glimmering through dark lashes. My breath hitched as he flicked his tongue over his full lips, the darkness and amber flicker of the room making him look like someone . . . something else entirely. The possessive tilt of his head as he surveyed me sent a jolt to my core and made me question my assertion. Was Ames Cove truly as good as he portrayed himself?

“That’s what you think of me?” His whisper was rough and velvety.

I swallowed down my conflicting emotions, the urge to hit him, to drop to my knees and explore his cock. My mind went dizzy with the heat of confusion. “Let me go.”

His hands balled into fists next to me, and his shoulders tensed. “I’d rather watch over you here, tonight,” he whispered after a moment.

What?

“I said, let me go,” I repeated, willing my voice to sound stronger than I felt. For the briefest moment, I thought he’d say no. He could easily overpower me, force me to stay, take my keys and lock me up here like some counterfeit princess in a tower.

With a long and frustrated exhale, he pulled back swiftly. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. I turned on my heel, my hand on the knob, when he said softly, “The door to the church and my room is always unlocked. You can come here whenever you need to, no questions asked. This church is . . . a protected space.”

To add to my inner chaos, tears welled in my eyes. I slammed the door without saying goodbye.

I choked on a sob as I walked to my car in the pale glow of stars and fire lanterns. A crow sat perched on a branch above my old beater of a Honda. The bird angled its head and cooed softly. I sniffled, looking at the creature and remembering seeing it before. “You are following me.” I sniffled. “That reminds me. I brought you something.” I fisted a hand into my jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of shelled peanuts. The crow eyed me curiously as I placed them on the roof of my car. “I heard crows like gifts.” I shrugged, feeling like an idiot for talking to a bird. I’d found a bag of bird and squirrel food in the Moores’ backyard. I refilled their feeders and kept a handful in case I came across the inky feathered creature again. I startled as the bird hopped from its branch onto the roof next to the nuts. It tiled its head, and I realized it was much larger than it appeared in the trees. My mind flicked back to remembering the Ravens and their treehouse at Hallows Fest. I grinned in remembrance, and it was then I was sure of what I wanted to do that night. My plans to continue attending Hallows Fest weren’t going to be deterred because of a maddening interaction with Ames. A pang of sadness held my heart as I morbidly wondered if that was the last time I’d see him. Why would he bother after that fight?