Page 30 of The Devil and His Ghost

She and Alex shook my hand before crossing the room to where the producer waited. Immediately, I fixed my attention on where it had wanted to be for the entire duration of that exchange. The dark-haired beauty met my stare unwaveringly and stood with her hip popped out and arms still firmly crossed. Those dark yet vivid eyes did a slow sweep down my body, nearly pulling a growl out of me.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” I told her huskily and held out my hand. “I’m Xander.”

She looked at my outstretched hand but ignored it. “I know.”

“I guess you do,” I chuckled, unfazed by her refusal to give me her name or hand.

“Champagne?” a waitstaff asked us, holding a tray of flutes with the bubbly golden drink.

We each grabbed one. The minute she had hers, she swept past me, heading for an empty standing table on the outskirts of the room. I followed her, casually sipping on my drink and staring at her perfectly round ass. My eyes narrowed slightly as I pictured each cheek swollen and red with my handprints.

“So you don’t mind coming on Haunted Days and Nightmares?” she asked me once we reached the table. She propped her chin in her right hand while the other laid flat on the table, her fingers tapping lightly on the base of her glass.

“I’d certainly be interested,” I told her.

“Why?” she asked blandly.

“Why not?” I shrugged. “Sounds like it could be fun, and I’m always down for a good time.”

I let my voice drop with suggestion. While her expression remained flat, the corners of her eyes tightened the smallest fraction. For all her efforts of seeming unbothered, she couldn’t fool me.

She put on a coy smile and angled her body toward mine. “What is it you do for fun?”

“I could tell you.” I looked up at the ceiling in mock thought while taking a step toward her, closing the gap between us. My hand dragged over the tabletop, stopping just shy of her fingers. My dark eyes collided with hers when I stood directly in front of her, and the grin I wore was nothing short of sensual. “Or I could show you.”

Her attention dropped to my mouth, and she licked her lips, seemingly without meaning to. The tips of my fingers touched hers where they rested on the foot of her champagne glass, and there was no missing her sharp inhale.

I drew closer.

Her gaze met mine once more, and she whispered, “Are you going to kiss me now, Mr. Monster?”

I froze. Slowly, I pulled back. The icy, indifferent smile had turned softer and playful while she watched me watch her. I hadn’t caught the resemblance before, but with the old nickname, I now saw what I’d been blind to.

“Ghost?” I asked in surprise, giving her a once over.

The last time I’d seen Kendyll was on her eighteenth birthday. Back then, she’d been frail with long, straight hair, and she carried teen youth in the features of her face, body, and attitude. Not anymore. This was a woman standing across from me. She looked healthy, filled out in her cheeks, arms, and curves. Her hair was voluminous and much glossier, and even the very air around her had changed, going from an unsure yet curious teen to a self-assured and untouchable adult. The difference was night and day.

“Shit,” I laughed equally light and disbelievingly. “I didn’t even recognize you.”

“Yeah, well it’s been five years,” she responded with a small snort. “That’s kind of what happens as you age. Looks change.”

“Can’t relate,” I replied, running a hand through my lengthening black hair with a cocky smirk. “I’m forever this young and handsome.”

“How nice for you,” she replied, the compliment at odds with the bored expression she wore.

“Jokes aside, you look great. Beautiful, actually.”

She pressed her red lips together and tucked some hair behind her ear while averting her gaze. The movement flashed her forearm tattoo, which had previously been hidden against her body or the table. The ghost surrounded by shadows was still there, and the sight made me smile.

“It’s the make-up and contacts,” she eventually replied.

“Nah,” I corrected her, leaning into her space again. “It’s just you.”

She met my eyes again but didn’t respond. We stared at each other, and I found myself going back to the night she’d left without a word. I’d moved on from the brief time I’d shared with my ghost-talking pet, but every so often, I’d see a fish in a pond in a park or catch sight of a lost ghost, which made me briefly wonder. What happened to her? Was she okay? Why hadn’t she said anything?

“How have you been?” I asked her, the question coming out quieter than I meant it to.

“What a question,” she laughed ruefully. She looked around the room and sipped on her champagne. Finally, she shrugged and answered, “I’m fine. I stay busy with work.”