Page 44 of Ghosted in Arkadia
He must have injected me with some crazy serum that is entirely fucking with my mind. I do not love him. I don’t know anything about him. He won’t even tell me his name. I have not seen his face. He kills people, for fuck’s sake.
Fucking soulmate shit.
I start the coffeepot and have nothing better to do than stand and watch it brew. The house is silent other than the sound of Rex’s slow bites.
Now I see why Cathy was always complaining about those damn pictures she couldn’t bring herself to throw away. All rational thinking flies out the window when it comes to your soulmate. My parents’ inability to love me more than each other finally made sense. It wasn’t their fault; it was just the way soulmates work.
Peace washes over me, evaporating years of frustration in an instant as I finally understand what every mated person has been trying to tell me from the start.
The coffee pot beeps, making me jump. There’s nothing quite like figuring out the answers to your own existential crisis first thing in the morning. I pour myself a cup and add enough cream to make it a reasonable drinking temperature.
The first sip tastes heavenly.
“Come the fuck on. Things shouldn’t taste better just because I found my soulmate,” I groan, but there’s no mistaking the difference as I take another sip. It abso-fucking-lutely tastes better.
It’s like the world has exploded into vibrant color, a kaleidoscope of previously unseen hues.
How the fuck could someone properly describe this to someone who has never experienced it? It’s like trying to describe one of the senses. Words just can’t encompass the sensations, the world changing effects.
I thought I understood what love could be, but I didn’t know shit.
I take my cup with me into my room, not sure what to do with myself. Everything inside me feels different, but everything outside of me is still the same. And what’s worse, there isn’t anyone I can talk to about it. Other than Ghost, of course.
Except that doesn’t help whenhe’sthe topic I need to discuss.
For the first time in my life, I wish my parents hadn’t transferred to another city the moment they were free of me. I could use the guidance they didn’t give me as a teenager. They practically ran toward the chance for a transfer and never looked back. I don’t even have their phone number.
I look through the contacts on my phone. It’s filled with names of other mateless. Tommy and James had never gotten a message from their soulmates. Captain had only written to his soulmate for a few years before she died of some illness before they got to meet in person.
Killian.
My stomach does a flip while my finger slides the screen to bring up his name. Killian lived with his soulmate, at least for a little while before she killed herself. Out of anyone I knew, he could understand the feelings I couldn’t express.
But could I trust him?
If I told Killian about my soulmate, not only could I lose my job, my house, and possibly end up in a cell for the crimes Ghost committed. Not worth the risk. Killian might still help me without needing to know that I have found my soulmate.
Partners get to know each other, right?
I press his name, and the line rings twice before Killian answers.
“Kira? Is everything alright?” His tone is thick and a quick glance at the clock tells me it’s likely because he was sleeping.
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry to call so early.” A nervous flutter dances in my stomach while I debate whether to hang up, the phone feels heavy in my hand. “I just, umm, thought we could hang out sometime. Outside of work.”
This was so much easier with Cathy.
“Umm.” I can hear movements on his end of the line. He’s likely getting out of bed and putting some clothes on while trying to make sense of my random request. “Yeah. Sure. Did you have anything particular in mind?”
“No.” My tone feels too high pitched. “No,” I correct. “You could come over here and we could get to know each other.”
I want to backtrack the moment the words leave my lips.
What if Ghost sees Killian and gets the wrong impression? I mean, he said he wouldn’t kill anyone unless I wrote their name, but I don’t exactly want to put that to the test with my partner.
“Sure. I don’t have anything going on today. I could be over in a few hours,” Killian says, interrupting my internal argument.
“Actually, on second thought. Could I come over to your place?” A nervous nibble at my lip accompanies a moment of tense anticipation while I wait for his answer.
