Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (94)

It was strangely comfortable and normal, though it was the craziest, most unbelievable sort of life.

“What’s the surprise?” I asked, unable to hide my smile.

Wolfgang grinned, crossing his burly arms. “Onyx has it.”

Onyx replied, emerald eyes giving me a quick head to toe glance that didn’t escape my notice. Or Ames’s. “It was my idea,” he said, slyly pulling out something from behind his back.

I giggled. “Wow, my own jack-o'-lantern bucket, thanks, but there’s no candy inside.”

“Yeah, dummy, we’ve got to go get it,” Wolfgang jeered, his smile bright against his copper skin.

I raised an eyebrow. They all stood a few steps beneath me in the pumpkin-cluttered courtyard of the church. “We’re buying candy?”

Onyx sighed. “We’re taking you trick-or-treating, B. You know how we’ve told you things get weird on Halloween here . . . and since there’s trick-or-treating every night of October in Ash Grove . . . we’re taking you tonight.” He winked on the last portion of that statement, sending a flush to my face that wasn’t from the crisp air.

I looked to Ames, who gave Onyx a mildly annoyed glance before relaxing at my smile. “Really? Aren’t we too old for that?”

“Excuse me?” Ames put a hand to his chest. “You, kid, are a youngin’. We are old.”

Wolfgang replied, “And no one’s ever too old to trick-or-treat.”

Onyx clapped. “That’s settled, now costumes . . . Let’s meet in the square in an hour?”

“Okay,” I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement. “I do have lots of costumes.”

While Wolf and Onyx got into Wolfgang’s car, Ames snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me hard to his body. “I already know what you’re going to wear. I want you to put on that lacy little top with the black skirt and trench coat. That one you wore after our fight that nearly fucking ended me.”

My breath lodged in my throat as I clenched my thighs. “You noticed?”

“Of course I noticed,” he growled. “And I’m fucking you in it tonight.”

His lips brushed mine, sending a shiver of anticipation flowing down my skin. “I’ll get my fox mask,” I breathed, tugging away.

He only held tighter, not letting me move, as his kiss dipped to the crook of my neck. “I’ve got that taken care of too. You’re not a fox tonight. You never were.”

I dressed, shoving my breasts into my lacy top and shimmying on my mini skirt. I zipped up my long leather boots and let my hair hang long and straight. I was secretly excited to get to wear this getup again, this time with my stalker’s undivided attention.

When I turned, he was watching me from the doorway: leather jacket, jeans, hair brushed back, hands painted—like his face. The skeleton man. My breath hitched. “We’re not going to make it out of this attic if you keep looking at me like that,” he drawled, holding a box and stalking forward.

I sat on the bed, pushing my knees, and breasts, together. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckled darkly. “Like hell you don’t. Here, look at me,” he said, sitting beside me. He dabbed the makeup sponge in white and smeared it over my face. It was cold and wet, and from so close, I could admire his face. A face hidden behind paint, and masks, and worlds. A face from hundreds of years ago and made into something entirely new. Something darker and fearsome . . . yet tender enough to paint on my mask. After grabbing a paint brush and working in strokes of black, I giggled, with little hope I’d look anything but ridiculous. But when I walked to the mirror in the tiny bathroom, I gasped.

“It’s beautiful.” I sighed, lightly touching my cheeks so as to not rub it off as it dried.

“You’re beautiful,” he replied, coming up behind me, towering over me while he rubbed his hands down my ribs. “I’ve wanted to paint you like this for a while now.”

I admired us both for a moment. “I look like you.”

“You look like mine,” he replied, gravel in his voice. “My Little Ghost. Now everyone who sees you will know it.”

“Kiss me,” I demanded, turning to face him. “Softly, so you don’t mess up my face.”

His mouth quirked a grin. The skeleton man. My skeleton man. His mouth lowered to mine, brushing at my lips tenderly. Parting them sweetly with his, he slipped in his tongue. I met it with my own and sighed at the taste of him, feeling my silk panties already dampen.

“You taste like honey,” I whispered.

He pulled back, tilting his head to the side. “Do I? That’s interesting because that’s what you taste like to me. I can taste . . . emotions. All demons can.”

Surprise flitted through me. “Really? And what emotion of mine tastes like honey?”

He leaned forward, pushing me back until my ass pressed into the cool ceramic sink. “Arousal,” he purred.

My breathing picked up as I let my hands roam his hard chest. “We better go or we’ll never leave,” I whispered.

My skeleton man dipped, lightly sucking my earlobe. “I’ll take you trick-or-treating next year.”

I giggled at his persistence. “But the candy.”

“I’ll buy you a mountain of candy.”