Page 45 of Ghosts of Halloween

And for a moment, I’m confused, my world turning upside down as I consider it.

It’s not just Caden that does it for me. No, I’m hard for all three of them. Her, panting, owned, ruined, and him, grinning now that he came, his dick still inside her. Even Jack, still holding her hair, petting it while his half-limp dick rests on his thigh.

All of them spent, sated,glowing. The utter vulnerability between them, the intimacy, the power exchange… It all goes straight to my dick, and I want tofuckingplay. To own them, too.

To be owned and included.

Suddenly, I know exactly what I want to do. There is one thing that will ruin Harlow even more than raping her, and maybe, before this night ends…

I’ll get to explore this new thing I just discovered about myself.

26

Harlow

I’m still naked, wrapped tightly in Jack’s arms. Caden went off to the downstairs bathroom that apparently still has water to clean up. I should go, too, but I’m so perfectly happy, I don’t want to move yet.

“This was so beautiful, princess,” Jack says, dropping a kiss on the top of my head, sending sparks into my tired muscles. “If I knew fucking you was this good, I would have…”

But he stops, his breath skirting over my skin as his hold tightens. I don’t answer, his regret so visceral, it pierces me, too.

Even though Jack didn’t finish his thought, the spell is broken. Regrets, his and mine, rise into the air like smoke, and I grit my teeth. I don’t want to think about it. That Halloween two years ago. When Jack demanded that I break up with Michael and come here to see him.

He promised me a relationship. Promised me things I never thought I could have. And I would have come. I wanted to, but…

I worry my lower lip, the after-sex sparkly glow seeping out of me. I glance at Silas, who stands in the corner with his arms folded, long fingers tapping out a rhythm on his bicep. He seems agitated.

“What happens now?” I ask, turning to look at Jack. “And will you finally tell me how you’re here? Or is that a secret?”

Jack looks troubled, frowning in silence, and finally, it’s Silas who answers. “There won’t be any secrets left after tonight.”

There is something so final, so cutting in his words, I flinch. Silas pushes away from the wall and comes over, all graceful, body sinuous. He looks like a predator stalking prey, and I shiver, instinctively pressing into Jack’s warm chest.

When Silas crouches in front of me, eyes flicking down my naked body, I press my legs together, suddenly self-conscious. I know he’s gay. Does my nakedness disgust him? Does he think I’m ugly? I think he must. I only feel pretty when desired, and Silas will never want me.

But when his eyes come back to my face, something soft and warm glitters in their depths before his mouth twists into a sharp, mocking grin.

“Do you know how we died, angel?” he asks, voice verging on amusement.

“Fuck you,” Jack hisses but doesn’t say anything else. His arms tighten around me, his breathing picking up, and the tension in the air infects me, roiling in my gut.

“You… you were shot,” I say quietly, the images flashing in my mind, as fresh as if it happened last night.

I see them, snapshot after snapshot in my mind, the images infused with my grief. Body bags rolled out through the gate. Blood on the dusty floors. The policeman’s face when he delivered the news.

I feel my own pain from that night, folded and buried under this new, impossible wave of anguish. So insignificant and shallow in the face of this horrifying, impossible loss. A thorn I could never take out or heal from, because what followed was a million times worse.

I lost everything that night. But all my losses paled when compared to Noah’s death.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I fly out of Jack’s embrace, landing on my hands and knees, face inches away from Silas’s. He flinches but stays put, and I pant, looking into his mocking eyes, the new realization chokingme from within. The whirlpool of hope inside me turns and turns, growing in power, until I’m dizzy.

I’m afraid to ask, but I must. I must know.

“Noah died that night, too,” I say through a tight throat, my words no louder than a whisper. “Is he… Where is he?”

Silas watches me for a long moment, drawing it out, and behind me, I hear a choked sound from Jack, but I don’t turn. I stare at Silas, wild hope flowing through me in wave after wave, making me nauseous, and as his lips twist into a sharp smile, I release a shaky breath, waiting, waiting…

“He’s gone,” Silas says, getting up. “Gone for good.”

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