Page 102 of Court of Evil

CHAPTER 42

When the elevator opens, I automatically duck. Goose was usually there practicing his knife throwing, but it’s empty now and the lights are off. Straightening, I ignore their curious looks as I step out and the lights turn on. Heading down the corridor, I open the doors of the living area.

“Kitchen is there, and the gym is down there. There are plenty of rooms upstairs, so feel free to sleep wherever you want. I’m going to shower,” I call without looking at them. I need a minute to myself. I haven’t been alone since before Black betrayed me. I’m always with them, and I find I even like the lack of quiet, but right now I’m a little overwhelmed and need a minute to gather myself.

I head down the corridor to my room, unlocking it with my fingerprint since I didn’t trust them not to leave booby traps in my bed for fun. I shut the door and lock it behind me, pressing my back to it. My double bed is made and pushed against the back wall. My shelves above are filled with manuals and maps I used. My desk is to the left with the lamp switched off. My other wall has four windows, which are currently closed with curtains pulled.

My room is still the same, and nothing has been touched. It’s strange being back here. The last time I stayed in this room was the night before our hunt when everything changed. Everything around us has done just that, changed, but this has stayed the same. It was never home, just a room, but as I hear my new team’s laughter filling the air, I realise it’s starting to feel like it.

So many memories haunt this floor, good and bad, and it’s all too much.

Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply before ripping the bathroom door open then slamming it behind me. I strip from my bloodstained clothes, knowing they are beyond saving, and chuck them towards the bin before I carefully lay my weapons on the counter to clean later. My LED mirror flickers on, displaying the temperature and any hunting alerts, but I turn on the walk-in shower. The glass screen steams up quickly, so I step inside and walk to the end, where the two showerheads are, both aimed at me.

Everything is state-of-the-art, but this shower was always my haven. The hard spray unknots my sore muscles after hunts.

My hands press to the wall as I stare at the drain, watching the red-tinted water flow down it. My body will be clean, but my soul never will be, not after the things I have done to survive, but I can live with it.

I can live with being this version of myself as long as it puts people like Black in a grave.

I feel the air behind me change, and I glance back to find Ronan there. He looks serious for once. I’m too tired to scold him, so I simply offer what I should have earlier, but before I can, he speaks.

“I’m sorry about the motel.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I was too hard.” I shrug as I turn away and close my eyes. Maybe it should bother me that he’s in here with me, but honestly, Ronan has seen worse, and if he’s beenwatching me for years like he said, then he’s seen every inch of my body. There is no point in feeling shame or embarrassment, and I am too drained for that.

“You’re not okay.” His voice is so close, it startles me, and I feel him behind me, not quite solid but not weak either. “Not just physically. You look exhausted by life and what it has forced you to do. Killing your team, no matter what they did, has worn on you, Tate. Let me help.”

“Why would you?” I murmur.

“Because I couldn’t do anything before, but I can now. I have always been with you, Tate. You just didn’t know it. I’ve seen your comedowns after hunts, and this is different. You’re hurting. Let me make it better.” His voice is soft and prying.

I lift my eyes again, looking over my shoulder, and meet his searching gaze.

He sees too much, but there’s no escaping Ronan. Wherever I go, he can simply follow, and he will. I cannot rid myself of this nosy ghost.

“Did Shamus send you?” I ask.

His smile is small. “No. I have no doubt he would have, but he didn’t need to. I know when you’re struggling, Tate. I know you better than you even know yourself. There’s no one else here, so there’s no need to put on a mask. Let me help you.”

“How?” I whisper.

“By reminding you that you’re not alone and making you think of anything other than what has happened.”

My brows furrow as I try to decipher his meaning.

He suddenly disappears, and my eyes widen as I search for him behind me, but he’s just gone. Is this how he hid before now? It literally feels like I’m alone.

I go to turn when hands grip mine and slam them to the wall, something pressing to my ear. “Stay right there.” His voice, dark and hungry, fills my ear, but I still can’t see him.

A hand slides across my shoulders, massaging my stiff muscles, and I jerk. He chuckles, and his other hand roves down my arm, massaging as he goes, working the tension from my body. He keeps it up, touching every part of me.

“That’s so fucking weird,” I murmur. I can’t see him, but I can feel him. I startle at each unexpected touch since I can’t prepare for it, and his chuckle fills my ear.

“Close your eyes, Tate,” he murmurs, and I obey. My eyes close as his hands slide across my body like he owns it, turning my muscles to jelly.

His touch is warm despite him being dead, and my thighs part in invitation as his hand crests over my mound, but he keeps going, massaging my thighs, down, and then back up, teasing me. I ignore my own desire and frustration and just give myself over to him. Every muscle in my body relaxes as he touches me.

“Ronan.” His name slips from my lips in a blissful sigh, and his touch becomes harder, stronger, as his fingers trail down my sides, making me shiver. I almost giggle at the ticklish feeling, but that soon disappears as he moves lower.

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