Page 69 of The Phantom's Vice

I sigh, allowing my shoulders to slump as I hang my head. My eyes find a spot in the marble where the white and black veins converge seamlessly, and I focus hard on that point. I have to focus onsomethingother than the beautiful siren in my kitchen to stop me from going mad.

“I’m worried aboutyou,” I admit, my voice raw even with the voice mod. “I’m worried I’ve done all this for nothing. That you or Orion will be hurt because of my actions—my desires.” I clench my fist, wishing I could feel the bite of nails into my palm or something—anything—to take away this horrible nothingness.

Then like an angel, she’s at my side. Electricity thrums from my wrist where her lovely hand rests, rubbing gentle circles around the inch of exposed skin.

“Is there something I can do?” she asks, her voice so gentle and caring, I’m worried I’m dreaming again. “I want to help. Tell me what I can do.”

Wordlessly, I turn to her, memorizing every inch of her lovely heart-shaped face. My hands slide up her arms, curling around her shoulders and pulling her toward me. Brett doesn’t resist, her face heating the slightest shade of pink as her chest brushes mine.

“You’ve already done so much, darling,” I whisper, resisting the urge to crush her against me and steal another kiss. I would, but I’m worried this time will crack me wide open, and no amount of stitcheswill be able to piece me back together. I’m already so close to the edge, looking for a reason to fall into her. I just need that last little nudge, and I won’t be able to hold back.

Suddenly, Brett presses on her tiptoes and plants her lips squarely against my mask. I close my eyes, imagining the feel of her against me, of her taste consuming me and driving me mad. It’s almost enough to satisfy me.

A moment later, she’s gone, halfway across the room to the door. I’m about to call out to her when she gets to the doorway, but she stops the words in my throat as she turns her head, eyebrows raised with an expectant expression.

“Well? Are you coming to bed or not?”

She doesn’t need to ask twice.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

BRETT

Jane Evangeline: Entry #14

Something happened tonight. Something I can’t tell anyone, so I’m writing it here.

Hudson and I made love tonight.

Granted, he kept his mask on, and it kept smacking me in the forehead every time he thrust forward, but overall, it wasn’t terrible.

He even got me off at the end—though it took quite a bit of coaxing for some reason. I just couldn’t stop picturing Maverick’s face and hearing Maverick’s voice. Wishing Maverick was inside me.

And that is part of my shame. Because not only was I kicked out immediately after Hudson came, but I felt like I deserved it because I was thinking of another man.

I’m supposed to meet Maverick tomorrow for breakfast at his apartment, but I may call and cancel.

After all, one Mask making me feel like shit is more than enough.

For the next week,things are pretty quiet. I spend most days in bed, catching up on the hours of sleep I’ve missed over the years. When I’m not unconscious or choking down whichever nutritious meal Ghost cooks—then snacking on freezer food later with Orion—I spend my time in the library with Ghost, sitting silently and reading.

I’ve tried to bring up the Sanctum multiple times, but he always finds a way to change the subject—be it dragging me to the bedroom or calling Orion in to distract me—so I haven’t gotten any closer to my end goal. I am learning a lot, though. For example, I never realized the amount of violence a person could harbor until the other night when Ghost took a sledgehammer to the microwave oven.A sledgehammer.

At the time it happened, I was busy tonguing the side of my cheek that I burned from a hasty bite of a microwaved taquito and damn near bit my tongue off when the first hit rang out. By the time I could calm him down, the poor thingwas beaten to a pulp, and Ghost was a heaving mess, screaming aboutstupid, hazardous inventions. Orion tried to tell me it was technically my fault—that Ghost went into a fit becauseIburned my mouthon something I heated in the microwave—but it was too preposterous to think about, so I just chalked it up to him being a lunatic.

Although, it’s not all bad. The caring side I’ve seen in Ghost this past week has softened me to him. Even if his actions are perplexing at times, I realize now that it’s always been in my best interest. And not just to me—to Venom, too. He’s been so kind to us both, and it makesno sense.

I’m trying to stay strong—to remember my mission, and the reason I started trying to get on Ghost’s good side.To gain intel and then to escape when he least expects it.It’s not like I can stay here forever. I’m playing house with a murderous lunatic, and the thought of throwing my life away to be hisanythingis too much to think about.

Although I will miss the orgasms. Desperately. And the snuggles. And breakfast in bed. And the orgasms.That is another thing I’ve allowed to happen too frequently. Ghost’s head between my legs is like a drug—one I can’t get enough of.

I’m brought out of my thoughts as a hint ofaftershave makes its way to my nose, and I turn my head, catching sight of Ghost at the doorway to the balcony. I discovered the balcony a few days ago, and it’s been one of my favorite places to sit and think. It’s extremely calming listening to the waves crash against the rocks, knowing I’m too high for the elements to reach, to touch.

“When you weren’t in the library, I figured this is where you’d be,” Ghost murmurs, leaning effortlessly against the doorframe. “I worried when you weren’t in bed when I woke.”

I smile, gesturing for him to sit in the unoccupied patio chair next to me. He obliges, floating to the seat and reaching over, placing his hand on top of mine. I rub my thumb over the back of his ungloved wrist, my chest squeezing at the sounds my touch is able to elicit from the unyielding Phantom at my side.

“I will never get enough of this,” he announces, turning that black oval toward me. “I will never get enough ofyou,Brett.”

---