Page 12 of Ghosted in Arkadia
“I’m mourning,” I add defensively as I head for my bedroom with a glass of vodka and cranberry.
With the door shut and locked, Rex is free to roam the other side of my house. Going over to his side when I need company feels a little less strange. That side is also a mess now from his constant shedding.
I need to grab a brush the next time I go to the store.
My kit sits on the table beside the bed, and I pull my boots from my feet as I make my way over. I’m pretty sure I was just being paranoid at the funeral, but I can’t shake the feeling that something was off about the man on the motorcycle. Something in my gut tells me he wasn’t there to mourn.
Only one way to find out.
I saw you
The words sink into my skin, and I hope they come across as accusing as they’re meant to be. A reply comes back a moment later. The marks are as black as my soul is turning.
I saw you.
I note the period, the only noticeable change other than the color. The handwriting is nearly identical to mine, and I can’t help but stare at it. More black lines form on top of the message.
My phone rings, vibrating against the top of the table beside the bed. I make out the new message layered on top of the old one.
Pick up the phone.
He's a 10, But Also Probably a Serial Killer
Pick up the phone.
My phone rings again, and I stare at the jumbled lines on my arm, checking for the fourth time I am reading them right. My hand trembles as I reach over and see an unknown number calling.
“Hello?”
“Hello, kitten.” His voice is low and husky. The sound of it washes over me with unearned familiarity. It fits into every nerve ending inside my body, making them all fire at once.
It’s like a fucking orgasm.
Pressure builds between my thighs, making me squirm and forcing me to reposition myself on the bed. I can hear him faintly breathing, but the line is otherwise silent.
“How old are you?” I ask, some part of my mind needing confirmation that my panties are not getting wet over the sound of some teenager’s voice. He certainly sounds like a full-grown man. The more significant concern should be that I know he haskilled twice. Not that I am under any illusion that the murders were one-off events.
“Thirty-five.”
I sigh in relief, my body continuing to hum with anticipation. He's dangerous, and that only adds to the excitement, despite the logic. I hear him laugh, low and dark, as if he can feel the war raging inside me.
“What fucking took you so long?” I snap, and his laugh turns into a low growl. It sounds like a warning, but a fire rages to life inside me instead.
“I’ve been busy,” he says, without the anger I expect. There is a hint of seduction, or maybe that is just how my twisted body decoded his tone. “But now that I’ve seen you, kitten, I know why you’re mine.”
I swallow hard, feeling my heart hammering in my chest at the words I’ve always wished to hear, only now I wish they came from any other set of lips.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” I ask, fighting through the lump in my throat.
“A name is a powerful thing, kitten.” His voice is a low purr, reminding me of the sound of the Hellcat in idle. “You, of all people, should know that by now, Kira.”
My body hums at the sound of my name coming from the lips that I just mentally cursed and I lose myself to the image of what they might look like. What would they feel like pressed against my skin? I flop back against the bed and squeeze my thighs together, mentally chastising myself with a reminder that he is a killer.
“Is that how you got my number?” I ask, craving to hear his voice again.
He laughs darkly, causing the hairs on my arms to rise. “No. I got it from Alexander’s phone.”
My stomach bottoms, doing a far better job dousing the flames of arousal.
