Page 12 of The Dragon's Stone Hearted Mate
“Nope. I can’t love someone soft and squishy. My life isn’t made for it. Hell, Torvan was tough as nails and he couldn’t survive it,”I sighed to him.
I held back a sound of relief when the doorknob turned without making a sound. I looked around the cabin one last time. It was a small kitchenette with two queen beds and an adjoining bathroom. Both beds had nightstands complete with little shelves. Neither of us had unpacked but I hoped Cutter would once I was gone. Hell, he’d even dragged the pack under the blanket with him. He probably thought I was a thief, after all. Poor fucking guy.
Outside, someone had stood Pinky back upright. He peered out into the dark night as if he looked toward those who lingered around the bonfire. Chole was so certain this place would help but I didn’t belong here. It was Torvan’s fault that I wasn’t one of these grievers. They grieved people who had lived decent lives – shifters with decent morals at the very least. I grieved an asshole who wanted to kill me. Being here felt like robbing them of some safe space to celebrate those people and it changed nothing.All these good people would die alone too. They’d live and be sad and get hurt in a million little ways and then they’d die. I couldn’t stand being around them. Maybe I should hangout with assholes. I didn’t have a problem with assholes dying.
A floorboard creaked inside the cabin, and I sprinted down the path, hoping to slip by the lingerers at the bonfire without being noticed. The last thing I needed was Cutter to start with his questions. I didn’t owe him any answers but if he asked, I’d try to explain it. Hell, maybe I should be more of an asshole.
A roar tore through the camp. It was the same roar that startled the queue when I offered to carry Cutter’s bag.
“Fuck me!” I swore under my breath and sprinted in the other direction.
Thankfully the cabin doors didn’t lock. When the door sprung open I was greeted by Cutter on the floor, straddled over a nearly translucent man wearing a bandana over his face. An equally transparent gun lay next to them on the floor as Cutter punched the man over and over with a clawed hand.
“I TOLD YOU TO STAY DEAD! I’M TIRED OF KILLING YOU! STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD!”
I let out a roar and fire followed. I’d promised Cutter I wouldn’t intervene, but I was shit at keeping promises these days.
“STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD! STAY DEAD!” he punched over and over as the fire singed the feet of the ghost warrior he had pinned underneath him. The feet turned to ash, scattering across the floor and the body burnt up underneath Cutter until he was on his knees, straddled over nothing, and sitting in a pile of ashes.
“Are you okay?” I asked as something thumped outside.
“PINKY!” Sherry scolded as if the statue could hear her as others crowded in our doorway.
Instinctively, I blocked their entry, giving Cutter a few seconds to gather his wits. He would’ve beaten that damn ghost back to wherever he came from given a few more minutes and his way might’ve left behind less mess.
“I’m okay!” Cutter said, panting for air. “It happens all the time. Just a ghost attack.”
I stepped forward and shut the doors on the ‘rescue squad.’ Muffled voices asked baffled questions of each other as I walked across the room and squatted down next to Cutter.
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you handle it,” I said, fighting off the urge to touch his shoulder.
“It’s okay. No one got hurt. That’s the important thing,” he said, pushing himself upright and glancing around the room in every direction. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt. I didn’t know dragon fire burnt ghosts up.”
“Me neither, honestly. I was afraid it would get you but apparently, he was a wick and didn’t know it,” I said, looking around for a broom to sweep up the ghost ash.
“I’m sure Sherry has a vacuum somewhere,” Cutter said as if reading my mind.
“You’re a badass,” I said.
“No, I’m not. It’s still war for us. If they’d just stay dead life would be so much easier,” he said. “Do you mind if I shower first? I know I should let you go first because it’s my fault there’s a mess in the first place, but I think I have ash in my buttcrack.”
“Go ahead, man,” I said, wondering if some greater power of the universe moved me to Camp Air to solve Cutter’s problem. A better man than me would’ve called Crilus. He was part elf and knew more about ghost shit that I ever cared to.
“Knock, knock!” came Sherry’s too-cheerful voice from the other side of the door.
I almost told her to go away but unless we wanted to breathe in ash all night, we needed something to clean up the mess with.
“Hey,” I opened the door just enough to stick my head out. “Gotta broom?”
“What happened?”
“Nightmare,” I told her.
She gave me a suspicious look, raising one eyebrow higher than the other until she looked like she was trying to impersonate a cartoon character.
“Who was Cutter beating up? All the campers are accounted for. I was told that he was in danger of attack.”
“Look, Sherry, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. If you could just get me a broom and maybe a dustpan, I’ll get it squared away, and you won’t have to bother with it.”
