Page 99 of The Devil and His Ghost

“Maria!” I shouted. I looked around while clinging to Xander. “What just happened?”

He quickly scooped me into his arms before shadows encircled us. When they cleared, I found myself in Xander’s penthouse apartment. He stood in the center of his dark living room with only the bustling New York City lights offering visibility through the wall of windows. Even when we arrived, he didn’t let me go. He held me against his bare chest, his face tight with silent worries. His jaw clenched so hard, I feared his teeth would shatter, and his brow plunged so low that my own began to mirror his.

“Xander,” I prompted gently and reached up to cup his jaw. “You can set me down. I’m okay.”

His golden eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell quickly. His arms tightened around my back and under my legs for a moment, but he eventually let me down onto my own feet.

I studied his ashen expression. “Are you okay?”

He blew out a slow breath, and when he met my eyes, he had schooled the majority of the alarm from his face. “Let’s not go back to Mountview.”

“What?” I asked and reared back.

“Fuck Bethelma. Fuck your job. Fuck it all. Let’s just escape. Me and you. We don’t need to go back. You don’t need to complete that job. I’ll—”

“Xander,” I cut him off disbelievingly. “What’s gotten into you? I know what just happened was unusual and scary, but I can’t just quit what I’m doing there. It’s not even about Bethelma at this point. Something is going on, and there are spirits like Maria who are still there with whatever that other thing is. I’m not going to just leave them.”

Xander pressed his clawed hands together and buried his face in the crease of them. Those claws scraped up his face before burying in his black hair and on either side of his horns.

“Kendyll, there is something—no, someone—really powerful at Mountview. A demon. You’ve already seen that he can conceal whatever he’s doing from me. I’m not as strong as him. I can’t protect you there.”

“I don’t need your protection, Xander. I don’t need you.”

While I hadn’t truly meant anything I said, I really regretted the last sentence the minute I spoke it into existence. The hurt swam clearly as he met my eyes again, and his frown only deepened. My own heart hollowed out with self-loathing and longing. But pushing him away when I really wanted to pull him closer was all I knew how to do.

I couldn’t forget what had happened the last time I’d decided to let myself rely on him and his promise to be there when I needed him. I’d put myself in that situation because I thought he’d be there as my sword and shield, facing down that of nightmares right beside me. But he’d lied. He didn’t show up when I’d needed him most. I was left alone, and everything fell apart.

But more than that, more than because of the pain of that day, the biggest reason I shoved him away was because I knew he deserved better than my fractured fragments, which only knew how to gnash teeth and sharpen her nails.

I only brought problems. I only threatened to tarnish this one good thing in my life. I didn’t understand how he couldn’t see that, especially after what happened that terrible day.

With fists clenched and a mess of emotions cutting me up inside, I turned away from him. No sooner had I put my back to him than a pinky wove around mine, holding me captive mid-stride.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered so quietly, the broken sound could’ve passed for a phantom of my imagination.

But there was no imagining that agony within his typically cheerful voice, nor could I pass off the tears gathering in my eyes from that soft, anguished confession.

I looked back, which was a mistake, because I saw the devastation painting his face, even with his eyes downcast. I could see the bitch act through. I could put on an uncaring mask. But not when he looked like that. Not when he sounded like that. Both had my very soul breaking until all I could think to do was be uncharacteristically honest.

I stared at his pinky wrapped around mine. The black ink depicting a ghost on the finger made my heart squeeze so painfully that I had to swallow many times before I could get my words out.

“I’m already lost, Xander.” I didn’t release his pinky as I faced him. My finger tightened around his. “I’ve been lost for a long time.”

He cupped my cheek with his free hand and stroked it tenderly with his thumb. “I don’t mind wandering around lost with you.”

A small, sad laugh left me. I placed my hand over his and leaned into his palm without tearing my gaze away. “I know. It’s exactly because you don’t mind that I keep pushing you away. You deserve better than being lost. You … deserve to be the one found instead. I’ve never wanted …”

“What?” he pleaded. “Never wanted what?”

I pressed my lips together, because I wasn’t sure how to finish that statement. There were so many things I never wanted.

I never wanted to be judged for being different.

I never wanted to have my life stolen before that little girl even knew what being alive meant.

I never wanted to burden the person I cared about most with everything that made me fucked up.

I never wanted to show the worst, most horrible secrets I kept buried to the one person who made me feel seen, safe, and loved.