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I fucking died.
And with death comes a whole other set of problems.
It never crossed my mind that those problems would bring me right to Zoey’s doorstep. When the agency rescued me from enemy lines and offered a ghost like me another shot at life, I took it, never thinking it would mean my life would once again be entangled with hers.
I could either blame serendipity or karma for playing such a cruel joke on me, but when the agency paired me with Alaric, of all people, to become his protégé, I didn’t know if I should laugh or weep. This was the man who Hale had informed me had been raising my Zoey as his own for years, the man who had taken my spot in protecting her, and now here I was, being trained to be an even better killer just so I could fill the empty seat he would leave in the agency once he retired. The role reversal between us felt all types of wrong to me, yet I did my part by learning all the tricks of the trade that he taught me, always on pins and needles as I waited for her name to slip out of his lips.
Since I arrived stateside, I resisted the urge to seek Zoey out, not wanting to risk her having traumatic flashbacks of her childhood, but then Alaric made the mistake of inviting me to a birthday party at his house, and for the life of me, I couldn’t stay away a second longer. I knew his goal for such an invite was for us to bond or some shit, but all his good intentions went out the window the minute I locked eyes with his baby girl and saw Zoey for the first time in a decade. She was no longer the scrawny little kid I found on the bathroom floor and became obsessed with protecting. She was fully grown and something out of a fucking wet dream. My brotherly affection for her switched to something dark and sinister that very day. Like a light switch turned on, it shed light on a desire I had no business feeling toward her.
It was for the best that Alaric kicked me out of his home that day and made sure to keep me away from his family after. He wouldn’t take too kindly to me ravishing his daughter right there and then in his own backyard.
My cock hardens again at the image of Zoey in that flowy skirt and how easy it would have been for me to slam her up against the wall, hike it up to her waist, pull her panties down, and pound that tight pussy of hers until her juices ran down her thighs. That day at the party, I would have sworn that she had never felt a cock fill her to the hilt before, and I’d have gladly volunteered to be the one to stretch that virgin pussy until it memorized the length and girth of my shaft.
I didn’t put up much of a fight with him that day since, deep down, I knew Alaric was right. A good girl like her should be kept away from me. She deserved to be with someone her own age, someone who would shower her with sweetness, flowers, and rainbows—shit that good girls like.
But the Zoey I met tonight was different.
That girl doesn’t do sweetness, flowers, and rainbows.
She does shadows and death.
Like me.
A loud groan springs out of my throat as my hand clenches around the whiskey bottle. I take another gulp and still feel unsatisfied, knowing I need a far better release than this shit. Pissed at myself for not having better control of these urges, I fling the bottle across the room, the glass shattering into a million pieces just as my sanity is about to. With my eyes closed, I recall how she looked when she came out of the bar and found me in the back alley with a dead body at my feet. Zoey didn’t so much as flinch, stepping closer to me in that fucking leather skirt and black halter top that showcased her long neck and naked shoulders. I could easily see her puckered nipples in that fucking thing, showing she was turned on that I had just extinguished the light in that fucker’s eyes. The way she licked her lips before smiling at me, her green eyes shining brightly at what she encountered, had been fucking intoxicating. Then when I got her into the car, I swear I could even smell her arousal every time I breathed in. All I had to do was put my hand between her thighs, and I knew I’d find her wet and wanting.
Fuck, did I want to taste that sweetness as she screamed my name. I wanted to ruin her and make her forget anyone other than me until she was as obsessed as I am.
With her scent still lingering on my skin, I slouch back into the couch, widen my legs, pull down my zipper, and release my aching cock. I spit into my palm before I grab the base of my dick and start fucking my own hand with images of the Zoey I met tonight playing through my mind. She looked at me like she wanted nothing more than to have my cock thrust into that wet mouth of hers, like she wanted to fuck me raw right there in that alley with a lifeless body lying dead in the corner.
When I left her untouched in her dorm room, staring at me in complete agony, it took inhumane effort on my part not to fling myself on top of her, kick her legs open, and let myself get lost in her pussy. My tongue licks over my front teeth, wishing I had let myself just have a little taste of her. Just a small taste to keep me sane. But it would have been a lie. One lick, and I’d be done for. I’d eat her out until she screamed for me to fuck her, and fuck her I would. I’d pound into her so hard she’d leave her silhouette on the mattress. Right after she came on my tongue, I would have grabbed her by those lovely golden locks of hers and made her suck me off, brutishly and savagely. I’d have made her mascara run down her pretty cheeks, making her a mess as she choked on my length, deprived of air and sanity. I’d ruin her, ruin all of her. She’d be a fuck doll in my hands and thank me for it in the end, begging for more.
And fuck, I would have given it to her.
My balls swell at the fantasy, making my hand quicken its speed on my cock and tighten its grip even more. I’m no longer in my living room but back at that dorm in her room that’s filled with her prized possessions.
“Please. Please, Gray.”
“For you, little doe. Always for you,” I reply on a groan. “Only ever for you.”
Just as I imagine thrusting inside of her, spurts of cum fly every which way on my hand, landing on my stomach and soaking through my shirt. My breathing is hard as I come back to reality, and when I open my eyelids and see what I’ve done, I slam my head repeatedly against the couch, shame rearing its ugly head once again.
This isn’t how we’re supposed to be.
This was never the deal.
What started off as a need to keep the little girl of my youth safe has morphed into something I’m not emotionally equipped to handle.
A ghost craves nothing.
A ghost desires nothing.
A ghost loves nothing.
Not wanting to prolong my self-deprecation longer than I need to, I pull myself up and walk toward my bedroom, not looking at the pictures Hale was able to obtain for me of Zoey over the years hung on my wall, especially now that I know all of them are a lie. None of them have captured the real Zoey. They are just a sham she puts out into the world, a fabrication she’s invented to make others feel safe.
Zoey isn’t safe.
She’s danger personified, and she’ll end me if given half the chance.
