Page 118 of Candy & Her Saints

Sugar’s ears twitch. She lifts her head. But she doesn’t jump off the blanket.

Ghost casts me a sideways glance, as if to make sure that I’m paying attention, like a magician before a trick. Then he chirps, before tapping his palm once.

Sugar immediately leaps up, rubbing around Ghost’s knees.

Huh, he’s trained his cat.

Or has his cat trained him?

When I pass a cube of cheese to Ghost, he drops it in front of Sugar.

Sugar gives her Omega a final grateful nudge with her head, before she lowers her head to nibble at the cube.

I hold up another piece of cheese, expecting Ghost to take it for his cat.

Unexpectedly, I feel soft lips delicately taking it from my fingers.

My pupils become dilated, as I look down at Ghost’s face, which is covered by his white-blonde curls.

He looks up at me mischievously, before chewing and swallowing.

I smirk, petting his head. “Good kitten.”

Ghost arches his brow, before deliberately flicking his soft tongue over my fingers.

I shiver.

I alternately feed both my kitties, until the plate is empty. Only one of them, however, looks at me with innocent blue eyes that could damn my soul.

Finally, Sugar sniffs around for more cheese and not finding any, prowls across the basement and up the steps. I hear the clatter of her leaving through the cat door.

If it was only so easy for my other kitty to leave here.

I card my fingers through Ghost’s hair, when he pushes his head into my hand in thanks.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” I ask.

Ghost’s expression becomes haunted.

He shakes his head.

“Want to talk about it?”

He hurriedly shakes his head again.

He tucks the blue blanket around me, even though he’s the one who needs it, since he’s only wearing a thin t-shirt. Then he looks around himself, before dragging something out of his pile of technology and switching it on. It’s a lightweight digital notepad with paperless pages, although it has the look and feel of a paper notebook.

A small backlight switches on, illuminating the notepad in the shadowy basement.

Ghost sits with his back against the wall and his knees drawn up. He balances the notepad on his knees.

I shuffle closer to him, until we’re sitting next to each other.

He picks up a pen and then gestures at the notepad.

“How about this,” I suggest. “I’ll tell you something about myself that I’ve never told anyone. Then you do the same.”

He thinks for a long moment, before nodding.

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