Page 58 of Ghosted

Her mouth parts, probably to call me insane again, but I cut her off by lowering my head until my voice drops right into the small space between her throat and the mask.

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”

Her fingers twitch against my chest. “Notice what?”

“You.” My hand tightens at her waist, slow and possessive, keeping her pinned there while the rain runs down the mask between us. “That’s the whole thing, isn’t it? You’re used to being invisible. Hiding behind that camera. Standing in corners. Taking little pieces of people while they’re too stupid to realize you’re stealing from them.”

Her jaw tightens.

Perfect. Seems I hit a nerve.

“Maybe it worked before,” I murmur. “Maybe everyone else looked right through you. The drunks. The fighters. The idiots screaming at the cage like blood is a personality trait.” I lean closer, the jagged teeth of the mask hovering near her cheek. “Maybe even other monsters like me would’ve missed you. But I didn’t.”

She swallows, and I feel it.

Fuck, I like that.

“You put that camera in my face, ghost girl. You made me look.” My thumb drags over her waist, slow enough to make her body tighten before she can hide it. “And now I can’t fucking stop.”

Her lips part, but nothing smart comes out.

That might be my new favorite thing.

I tilt my head, watching her through the black mesh. “And now look at you. So pissed off. So offended. Standing here acting like you didn’t run into the trees instead of toward the lights.”

“I was trying to get away from you.”

“Were you?” My smile gets worse. “Because you’re doing a shit job.”

Her hands press harder against my chest, but she doesn’t shove. Not really. Her fingers curl in the wet fabric like they’re trying to make a fist and forgot the part where they’re supposed to let go.

"Doesn't matter. I see you now, Alice,” I say, voice dropping lower. “I see the girl who pretends fear and death is research. The girl who points a lens at violence and calls it art so she doesn’t have to admit she likes getting close enough to feel it breathe.”

“Don’t,” she whispers, but it doesn’t land like stop.

It lands like she hates that I’m right.

My hand slides just a little higher on her side, still controlled, still giving her room to stop me if she wants. “You want to be scared, but only by someone smart enough to know exactly how much you can take.”

Her breath catches.

Quick and sharp.

Fuck me, that sound.

The fear. The want.

Both of them tangled together so tight even she can’t tell where one ends and the other starts.

“You crave it,” I murmur. “That’s what really pisses you off. Not me. Not the mask. Not the woods.” My thumb presses once into her waist, just enough to make her remember my hand is there. “You’re mad because I figured it out before you could lie to yourself properly.”

“That’s not true.”

“Liar.”

The word slips between us, soft and mean.

Her fingers tighten in my hoodie.