Page 24 of Challenge Me

Lai

“I beg your finest pardon?” I stared at the steam hissing from under the hood, then at the shimmering shadow in the driver’s seat. Ghost sat there with one hand draped over the wheel, his icy blue eyes fixed on me.

“Ghost,” I said, very slowly. “Explain yourself.”

He met my demand with a silent smirk.

I grabbed my phone, already prepared to call Al and make this humiliating mechanical tantrum someone else’s problem.

“There is no signal,” Ghost warned smugly.

My eyes dropped to the illuminated screen, the signal icon confirming Ghost’s words. No bars. I stared at it, then at him. “What is the meaning of this?”

He didn’t answer; instead, the passenger door swung open. The message was clear.

Out.

I knew I was in no position to negotiate. Carefully stripping off my coat first, I glanced at the grass below and stepped out, wondering what my next move could possibly be. Sure, I could start running, get down to the highway, hitchhike back to town, but that would cost me something I wasn’t willing to give up; that would cost my dignity. A 1970s Dodge would defeat me, and my ego would never recover.

“So,” I scoffed, shutting the door behind me. “This is a kidnapping?”

Ghost’s form appeared beside the hood as he popped it open, his form shimmering against the pale sky, barely visible in the daylight except for those burning blue eyes. He looked pleased with the accusation.

“No. This is an intervention.”

I choked on my words, meeting him by the open hood. “Is that so? And what could possibly require something so extreme?” I asked, baring my teeth.

He leaned down. Lips inches away from mine.

“You rely too much on others.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I do not rely. I delegate. It’s different.”

“Delegating would mean you could do it if you wanted to. You can’t.”

My scowl sharpened. “Can’t do what?”

“You can’t do anything.”

The words struck hard; Ghost had managed to run me down without even having to move, and he wasn’t done.

“You can’t drive me properly. You can’t fix your car. You can’t even change a fuse.” Ghost stepped closer, his voice dropping into something rougher. “You sit in me like a king in a carriage and let another man put his hands where yours should be.”

Ah. There it was. Jealousy. Wounded pride.

I scoffed and leaned back, but his hand landed on the scruff of my neck before I could retreat.

I was strong, stronger than most humans, stronger than almost anything that had the poor judgment to put their hands on me, but Ghost held me in place effortlessly. His grip was like steel as his fingers tightened around the back of my neck.

“I’m going to teach you,” Ghost growled softly against my ear. His shadow pressed against my back, hard, solid, huge. Heat rolled off him like a cooling engine after a hard drive. Gasoline and smoke clung to him. Old leather. Burnt dust.

Two seconds ago, I was going to resist. Now, with his heat against me, I was willing to learn anything.

“You think you can teach me?” I asked.

“I know I can.”

“How ambitious.” My eyes narrowed, but Ghost ignored my churlish answer. His fingers slid up the back of my neck and into my hair, tangling there, gripping just tightly enough to pull my head toward the open hood.