Page 70 of Depraved Devotion

“You can’t keep doing this,” I say, my shoulders sagging with exhaustion. “You can’t kill every man who threatens me.”

“The fuck I can’t.” Ghost narrows his gaze. “This isn’t the attitude I expected after saving your life.”

The disappointment in his voice cuts me. He’s right. Again. How annoying.

I nod slowly in resignation. “Thank you, Ghost. I really mean it.”

A flicker of something crosses his features. Appreciation? Devotion? I’m not sure because it disappears too quickly for me to read. Whatever the emotion, it was tender. And so at odds with the killer watching me intently.

“That’s more like it,” he says. His customary grin returns. “See how easy that was?”

I roll my eyes, repressing a smile of my own. “Don’t get used to it.”

He smirks, the charm he exudes infuriating as ever. “I wouldn’t dream of it, but isn’t it customary to receive a token of gratitude?”

“Like what?” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them, my curiosity getting the best of me. Regret immediately sets in. God only knows what Ghost’s answer will be.

“A kiss,” he says simply.

There is nothing simple about that. In fact, I can’t think of anything worse.

I scoff, trying to mask the way my blood rushes under my skin with renewed vigor. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Am I?” Ghost takes a step toward me. And another. His movements are fluid and graceful, like a predator closing in on its prey. “Or are you just scared?”

I glare at him as my thoughts collide, making my head ache. My attraction to Ghost is nothing more than a psychological response. A textbook case of gratitude and misplaced attachment. He saved my life, therefore, I feel drawn to him. It’s primal. It’s survival. It’s not real.

Itcan’tbe.

But even as I analyze my behavior, the logical explanation doesn’t eradicate the flames of desire burning me. If I don’t put an end to this conversation, I’ll be nothing more than ash, a pile of long-forgotten inhibitions.

I shake my head, stepping farther back, desperate to put space between us. “I’m not scared and you’re not a hero who deserves a prize. If anything, you’re the villain in my story.”

“That’s fair. Here’s the thing about villains… They don’t ask. They just take what they want.”

His words hang in the air, dripping with that maddening confidence, his smirk daring me to respond. The room feels stifling, the tension coiled so tightly it threatens to snap.

Ghost steps closer, and I retreat, only to find the wall at my back. He stops just inches away, his breath on my lips, his presence overwhelming me. I could barely handle him on the other side of the glass, but now having his body nearly flush with mine, I’m hopeless.

“That’s why you’re dangerous,” I say quietly. “You take without thinking about the consequences.”

“Oh, I think about the consequences, Dr. Andrews. I just don’t give a shit about them.”

Ghost’s hand shoots out to grab me by the throat before he yanks me to him. His lips crash down on mine, and I freeze.

This kiss is unrelenting, possessive, forceful.

He slants his mouth over mine, his tongue seeking entrance. Seeking dominion. And somewhere beneath my indignation, beneath my confusion, a treacherous part of me comes alive.

I shouldn’t want this.

Ghost is everything I despise: a ruthless criminal who doesn’t respect the sanctity of life.

My mind screams rejection, but my body cries for more. The heat of him. The raw intensity. The dangerous edge that vibrates just beneath his skin.

But I can’t.

With great reluctance, I pull away, my breath coming out in ragged gasps. His eyes are bright with hunger, the smirk playing at the corners of his lips telling me he’s far from satisfied with a single kiss.