Page 40 of Ghoul Kisses

“Can I ask you something?” the ghoul asks.

“Of course.”

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks. Sarah’s face flushes.

“Yes… no… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated. You don’t date outside your species?” The ghoul gawks at Sarah. Jealousy bubbles inside me. Sarah rests her right hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not that. I’m seeing someone, but I don’t know if we’re serious.”

“Well, if things don’t work out, give me a call.” He winks at her.

She giggles.

“I’m going to put some ointment on that wound, and your body should be able to heal in a few days.” She pats his arm.

Sarah sees me, and her breath hitches. While she walks towards me, she smooths out her jacket. Her black curly hair hangs past her waist. She examines me from head to toe.

“What are you doing here? Did you hurt yourself?” Her voice is tinged with concern. I should ask her about the conversation with the male.

“I came here to see you,” I say. She tries to bite back her smile. I pull her into a hug, watching the ghoul who asked her out. He glances at us, and my hand roams to her ass giving it a light squeeze. The ghoul looks horrified. I kiss Sarah with passion and gently nibble on her bottom lip. When I let go of her, her breathing is heavy. Her lips are swollen and red. The ghoul looks away.

“What was that for?” she asks, her cheeks a rosy red.

“I miss you. Take a fifteen-minute break,” I urge her.

“Sure,” she says.

We roam the hallway. Why does Sarah think we’re not serious? My mind goes back to her conversation with the ghoul. Is it something I did or said? If I ask her, she will know that I was listening to her conversation and be pissed at me.

Sarah stops mid-step, her green eyes narrow.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, interrupting me from my thoughts.

“Nothing. My friend is having dinner with us tonight.”

“I can’t watch you eat raw meat.”

“Okay, I won’t eat.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

I don’t want to tell her about what happened with Mae. She’s already been through a lot the last couple of days.

I shake my head and pull her into my embrace. She smiles.

“I’m sorry about last night and this morning,” she says apologetically.

“No need to apologize,” I answer, walking her back to the clinic.

I greet Clayton at the door when he arrives. He is in the second phase of a werewolf. The top portion of his body is human, and the bottom portion is a wolf. He is around six-foot-seven—I’m guessing and his long mane falls to his shoulders. His eyes are gold. He shakes my hand firmly.

“You got the juice?” I ask. He sets his book bag on the beige marble floor and rummages through it. He pulls out a green box and opens it.

“The blue liquid is for your lady, and the red liquid is for you.”

I reach for my wallet in my back pocket and give him a check for thirty grand. Clayton folds the check and tucks it in his bag. I grab the box and unscrew the top from my red bottle, gulping down the fruity drink. My body buzzes like I’ve downed ten cups of coffee.

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