Page 13 of Ghosted in Arkadia
“Nice nipple rings,” my soulmate adds, making my body swing back in the other direction and my nipples harden at their mention. I had texted a picture to Alexander six months ago when I first got them pierced. Alexander hated them and told me to take them out.
I told him to go fuck himself.
That was our first fight.
I can feel the bars inside my nipples now, slightly tugging while my soulmate breathes into the phone like he can feel it, too.
“You sure as fuck know a lot about me,” I say, unable to sit and listen to him breathe while the pressure between my thighs settles into a dull, nagging hum. “But you won’t even tell me your name? You don’t want me to refer to you as Alexander’s killer, right?”
“Am I his killer, or are you?” he asks, bouncing me through another round of sobriety.
That’s what I need.
I sit up and grab my drink off the table. The ice clinks against the glass, and I know he can hear it. The line stays quiet as I take a deep sip, enjoying the refreshing chill followed by the hard bite of the alcohol.
“I didn’t know what you would do with his name,” I answer, calmer.
“It didn’t stop you the second time.”
I’m stunned silent momentarily, caught in the accusation that one is equal to another before my mind clears. “I meant to killhim.”
While I hadn’t intended for Alexander to die, I couldn’t deny that I would have fired another round into Todd myself if I could. More importantly, I didn’t feel bad about it.
“You’ve got a taste for it now. Bloodthirsty little kitten.” His words sound like praise, and I can’t stop my body from reacting.
Disgust hits me a moment later when I remember the topic.
“Why did you call?” I ask, feeling like I have broken through some kind of spell. I don’t let him answer. “Why did you come to the cemetery? And, while we are at it, why haven’t you responded to me until now?”
I wait, listening to the steady sound of his breathing.
“Goodbye, Kira. I look forward to the next name.”
I don’t write another name. Instead, I stay inside my house for my second round of bereavement. I need every day, and I’m still not confident I am ready to return.
Regardless, I pass my psych evaluation and head back to duty.
I’ve prepared myself to see Cathy’s empty desk, and I even know what to do if Rex sits there rather than by my feet. What I’m not prepared for is the sight of a man sitting at Cathy’s desk. He’s wearing mirrored sunglasses and lounging back in the chair with his heels on the desk. His hands rest behind his head, tangling in short auburn hair. His beard is trimmed short on a strong jawline and much darker than his hair.
I can see myself in the reflection of his glasses. I look like I am about to lose my shit.
“Who the fuck is this?” While I mean to keep the thought inside my head, James’ laughter tells me I have said it out loud.
The stranger smiles, one side of his mouth tipping up further than the other. His feet slide from the desk, landing on the floorwith a controlled thump. He shoots toward the ceiling as he stands.
I place my best guess around six-two… maybe six-three.
“Killian,” he says. “I’m your new partner.”
He extends his hand, and I see my confused reflection. At least my face matches my thoughts. Rex sits beside my leg, not giving a fuck about Cathy’s replacement.
I raise an eyebrow, my arms crossing over my chest. “No one told me about a new partner.”
“We’ve been showing him the ropes for you, Kira,” James says, and I sidestep the desk to head for him.
My palms land flat on James’ desk, and I lean down. The urge to punch Cathy’s replacement simmers just beneath the surface. But I have something else in mind. I’m close enough to have a private conversation, but my tone is loud enough for everyone to hear.
“What are we working with? Mateless?”
