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Both of them startle, and it’s not until they stop talking that I realize I yelled. I cover my mouth like I could possibly quiet the words already said, looking between the two of them.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, like that makes up for the volume before. “I-I’m just having a really bad day, and I’m so tired, and you said he’s not doing so good and…”
But none of us have a chance to finish before a vicious crack echoes from the top of the stairs.
15
LUCY
Mayhem and Murder take a cautionary step away from me as the door hinge whines in protest. Ghost stumbles out with the light behind him, in a beautiful black suit that makes the dark circles under his eyes stand stark against his crystalline gaze. His hair is all over the place, his suit jacket rumpled, and everything about him screams of chaos. His steady, composed exterior has crumbled to dust on his shoulders, leaving a wild man in its wake.
I am so twisted in the head for being so achingly worried for him, and so utterly turned on at the same time. God, I'm a mess, but he is so damn beautiful.
“Ghost.”
I clench my hands in front of me, taking a step back with the others and trying not to sob. Emotions pelt me from every side, from the lowest of shame to the height of desperation. I can barely stomach standing here in front of him after what happened, but what I wouldn’t give to have him just hold my hand for one single moment.
“Lucy.”
His voice shakes like he’s on the brink of a nervous breakdown, taking the steps two at a time to get in front of me. I barely have a moment to think of what to do, how to apologize, before his hands are on my jaw, fingers splayed, holding my head still for his mouth to crash down on mine.
I gasp in shock and freeze under him for only a moment, before a switch flips in my chest and I nearly fall over. His kiss is unhinged, teeth and tongue banging against mine as he stakes his claim on my entire heart.
He growls in deep, feral satisfaction at my surrender, drawing in half a breath and locking his fingers in my hair, kissing me harder still. He swallows my whimpers, bending me backwards in his effort to consume me, and I grip his jacket in both hands to keep from floating away.
When he finally pulls back, both hands cupping my jaw, my heaving breath echoes back at us from the venue walls. His strong arms encircle my waist and crush me into his chest, lifting my feet clean off the cool floor.
He’s… He’s hugging me? I get the kiss of a lifetime and now he’s hugging me so tight it’s merging my broken pieces back together?
Oh myGod, I might be drunk.
“Fuck,” he breathes into my neck, the tickle of his scruff kick-starting my brain into gear. I hook my arms over his shoulders and hang on for dear life, fisting his jacket and stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s shaking, shaking so hard it makes my heart shatter, and clutching me to him like a life raft.
“Happy Birthday to me,” I whisper, hiding my face in his shoulder, telling myself to stop beaming like a fool. He's clearly in grave distress. I can be awestruck later. Right now, he needs me. “Hi.”
He shudders, holding on even tighter, but he lowers me to the floor, pulling back to get a better look at me. His face is flushed, eyes wild as he takes me in, rage swallowing the relief at breakneck speeds.
I keep my hands on his shoulders, lost in the delusion that if I don’t let go, he’ll forget everything I did. What happened earlier will disappear, and he won’t remember I’m too broken for him to be so worried about me.
“Don’t youever,” he grinds out, “do that to me again. Do you understand me?”
He says it like a promise of consequences if I even dare to think of leaving him again. He pauses for my response, but he doesn't pull away. He doesn't move at all. Not forward, not back. I'm not sure he's even breathing. I know I'm not.
He lingers there, our mouths a mere whisper away from each other, while a war rages behind his eyes. We sit there on the precipice, fire behind us and crashing waves down below, and he doesn't know which way to fall.
I'd help him if I could, but I don't care either way. We can burn or drown or soar or crash. I want any and all of it.
So long as he takes me with him.
I give a small nod, brushing his hair off his forehead. My poor bunny, so exhausted and frightened, and it’s all my fault. “Yes, sir,” I say. “I understand.”
He closes his eyes for a beat, his arm tightening around my waist, his body temperature spiking. “Christ,” he mutters, dropping his forehead onto mine.
“I feel scandalized.”
Mayhem. Right. Kinda forgot they were here, to be honest, and I couldn’t care less.
Murder hits him. A quick smack of skin on leather, and though Ghost’s eyes narrow, I don’t pay them any attention. I tilt my head to brush my nose against Ghost’s, and his eyes refocus on mine, his shoulders dropping in relief.
