Page 41
Story: Ghosts of the Dead
Mars shifts beside me and leans in close. His voice is barely louder than the faint crackle of the fire. “What’s going on with you and Jace?”
My pulse skips. “Nothing.”
“Mm. Didn’t look like nothing. Did he carry you out of that train station like some soldier in a romance novel?”
I roll my eyes at his ridiculousness, then glance at him. “He told me to stay away. He said getting close would only hurt me.”
Mars frowns. The playful tilt of his mouth falls into something more serious. “Do you believe him?”
“No, but I don’t know how to convince him otherwise. Something happened to him to give him that mentality, and I suspect it has to do with fire.”
Mars’s expression softens. When he shifts closer to me, I can feel the warmth of him radiating against my side. His breath brushes the side of my neck, making me shiver. “Want to mess with him a little?”
My brows arch. “Mars, what are you?—”
“What?” His tone is light and teasing. He pulls back a fraction and grins at me like he’s innocent. “What do you think I mean?”
“…Whatdoyou mean?” My voice is cautious. Not because I’m afraid, but because I’m not sure I want him to stop. Our kiss flashes through my mind.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he shifts again, moving closer. Then his hand moves, and before I can catch my breath, he lifts one of my legs and drapes it across his lap like it belongs there. Like I belong here. My breath stutters as he shifts me, guiding me to sit fully on him.
The heat between us sparks in an instant; it’s undeniable. He’s hard beneath me, and suddenly I’m hyper-aware of every inch of contact.
His fingers trace lazy patterns against my skin. The touch is featherlight, but every pass leaves fire in its wake. My stomach flips so much, it deserves a gold medal.
Mars grazes the inside of my knee, then his hand drifts higher so his knuckles are brushing the soft skin of my inner thigh. It’s not even a full touch, not really, but it’s enough to make my heart feel like it might break through my chest.
“You shaved recently?” His voice is dark with amusement.
My hands rest on his shoulders to hold myself up, and I gape at him. “Mars.”
His black eyes sparkle with mischief. “I’m just saying.You’ve got sinfully soft legs in the apocalypse, and I feel like that should be acknowledged. Loudly, and frequently.”
My cheeks burn and I shift in sudden discomfort, but his fingers press into my skin to hold me in place, and he lets out a low groan. My pulse races. I worry he might hear how hard my heart is working to break free from its cage.
I shake my head and try to ignore the heat between us. “You’re ridiculous.”
When he looks up at me, all humor and playfulness are gone. “I don’t joke about smooth skin. Especially not on someone I’m sworn to protect.”
My breath stutters. A thick fog settles over my mind. He continues rubbing soft circles into my skin. This man is trying to kill me.
“Remember the choice you gave me?”
I swallow and try to push away the fog. “You never answered, but I guess you’re my guardian angel.”
Although right now, he’s acting more like my grim reaper. I’m pretty sure this man’s touch alone could kill me. Or make me beg.
He shrugs. The motion is casual, even as his hand stays right where it is, still teasing me. So close, yet so far.
“Technically. I mean, I pulled you off a rooftop…after dragging you onto a rooftop…and scaring you off a rooftop…then almost getting you killed a few times. At least some of those weren’t on a rooftop.” His touch moves half an inch higher.
I huff out a laugh and try not to squirm, even though I really want to. Oh, I so badly want to squirm right now. “So what, is that our thing now? On and off of rooftops? You’re going to give me a real fear of heights at this rate.”
Mars leans in closer until his lips hover over my ear. “Autumn, you took my breath away…” his lips curve against the shell of my ear. “And you blew up my world.”
A laugh bursts from my chest before I can stop it. It’s afull-bodied sound, something I didn’t know I needed until it was already out. “You’re the worst.”
Mars grins wide, proud, and far too satisfied with himself.
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