Page 4 of Ghostly Desires

“Why would I find that strange?” I ask her, genuinely confused.

She turns to face me, and for the first time, I see she has a black eye and a trickle of blood running down the side of her temple. Reaching out, I grab the ropes, bringing the swing to a stop. Slowly, to ensure not spooking her, I reach for her face, cupping the opposite side of her black eye and tilt her face up so I can see the damage more closely.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” I snap, anger burning so hot in my chest that I believe I could breathe fire.

The same olive-green eyes from earlier in the evening stare back at me, unwavering, almost as a dare. “And if I told you I fell and hit it on the doorframe? What would you say?”

Leaning so that our noses are just millimeters apart, I answer, “I would burn the house that it's in to the fucking ground. So again, tell me, what the fuck happened to your fucking face, moya golovolomka? (My Puzzle)”

She tilts her head to the side in bemusement. “What was the last thing you said?”

Closing my eyes as frustration and anger start to take control, I take a deep breath. When the smells around me hit me, it’s not just the smells of the garden but something sweater, enticing, and a promise of destruction. The woman in front of me shifts on the swing, causing her face to leave my hands. Instantly my eyes snap open to reassure myself she is still here and not just a ghost sent to tempt me.

Three

LeeAnn

I shift on the swing, pulling away from the shadow of the man towering over me, demanding answers. Anger surges through me with every demand and statement that he makes about what I should do and how he wants to protect me. I am so fucking sick of people telling me what to do and treating me like I’m a child. As the swing sways from my movements, I pull my face from his large, warm hand. His eyes snap open, and just for a moment I see a flash of fear and bewilderment before it’s masked by anger and frustration.

Turning away from him completely to keep my raging emotions from spilling over, I sigh before saying, “If you're going to be here, you might as well be useful and push me.”

“Are you going to continue to be obtuse and ignore my question, moya golovolomka?” he growls in my ear.

I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, looking up at the sky. “Are you going to answer mine and tell me what that means?”

“Net.” He breathes across my neck.

“Then no, I’m not answering yours.” I fight to not sound as breathy and needy as I was feeling.

He moves away from me and pushes the swing, causing me to gasp. A sinister chuckle fills the air around us, making goose bumps to form on my skin. My body is at war with itself—trying to fight the need and fear coursing through me. Silence falls over us, pulling me in and comforting me in a way that I’ve not known since my mother passed away when I was a child. The realization that I’ve been afloat in a world that I don’t know if I’m coming or going hits me hard. If I’m enough, doing enough, worth the effort for someone to truly care for me.

Don’t get me wrong, Miles has always been there and loved me the way I can only assume a father should, but it’s not because of me. He does it because of a promise and the love he held for a woman who I barely even remember. The stranger behind me continues to push the swing in silence as the clouds move to block the moon's light, shrouding us in complete darkness. I continue to swing, soaking in everything about this moment, knowing that if the man behind me doesn’t already know who I am, when he finds out he’ll be just like the rest.

Either too afraid to come near me or trying to impress my father and make a fucking deal. That thought brings with it memories that I’ve chosen to never remember, yet it seems my psyche has different ideas. Flashes of the last eighteen months pop behind my mind’s eye like fireworks. Every lie, every heartbreak, and then to lose the only good thing that ever could or would come out of the entire fucked-up relationship. A whimper escapes before I can catch it.

The swing stops suddenly, and then I feel it again, his breath whispering across the shell of my ear. “There is that sound again. It’s like an animal that is in so much pain and misery you just want to do whatever it takes to make it better by any means necessary. So once again I ask, why are you out here hiding in the dark all alone?”

Turning so that our lips are so close, I can feel his breath on mine. “Alone? From where I’m sitting, I’m never alone.”

I jump when I feel his knuckle tip my chin up as if he can see me in the dark, “Yes, moya golovolomka, alone. You can be surrounded by people and still be alone.”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves my lips. “If that’s how you see things, then I’ve been alone my entire life, and I do not see that changing anytime soon.”

“Surrounded but alone,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Moya golovolomka, I see we have much in common.”

The clouds once again move from in front of the moon, allowing me to gaze up at the man I’ve only ever seen one other time. He is just as magnetic as he was the first time. Cold, hard, and something so dangerous that death is the only choice. It’s that last one that gives me a crazy fucking idea.

“Could you kill someone?” I whisper, watching for a reaction.

“I could and have,” he answers so matter-of-factly that it shocks me.

“What would it take to acquire your services to do this?” I stun myself by asking.

He smirks at me before standing tall and dropping his hand, leaving me with a feeling of loss so deep that tears well in my eyes. The heat of them causes anger to surge through me like ice, deadly and cold. I’m done with the tears, the pity, and trying to be everything for everybody. I straighten my shoulders as I slide off the swing to try to even things out with him only to find that he is several inches taller than me.

Looking up at him, I can’t stop my mouth from moving. “Well, shit, you're taller than I thought you would be.”

He cocks an eyebrow almost in a dare. “Didn’t realize that when you threw yourself into my arms earlier?”