Page 5 of Ghosted AF (At First #4)

five

~ Rylee ~

I inhaled with a sharp gasp, every muscle in my body seizing at the feel of Caius’ lips pressed against mine.

My brain malfunctioned, throwing out error messages like digital confetti. A pause. A hush. A reboot.

Then everything came rushing back at once.

The room started to spin, blurring at the edges, and a sharp hum buzzed in my ears. My heart thrashed against my ribs, pounding out a desperate rhythm that pulsed up into my throat. The scent of down and something wild, something uniquely Caius, filled my head with every panted breath.

One by one, my muscles unlocked, the tension evaporating until every limb felt like jelly. Thrown off balanced, I swayed on my knees, but the shifter caught me easily, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me upright.

His lips melded to mine, soft and pliable, and his warm breath fanned against my skin. His tongue darted out, the tip tracing the seam of my mouth in barely there touches, a suggestion rather than a request or a demand.

I submitted willingly, leaning into him as I parted with an inaudible sigh. The invasion sent a current racing through my veins like tiny lightning bolts of pleasure, and heat bloomed across my skin.

Every stroke of his tongue against mine felt frightening yet comforting, foreign and familiar in equal measure. Though my mind didn’t have the words to explain the sensations, my body responded, evoking memories of an event that had never happened.

Time stood still, or so it seemed, but all too soon, Caius pulled away, his kiss-pinkened lips quirked into a satisfied smirk.

“That’s better,” he said, his voice rough, belying his cocky expression.

I had no idea what had just happened, but it felt big, life changing. The sort of thing that demanded acknowledgement and reverence. Maybe a parade.

So, of course, wires got crossed, thoughts got tangled with feelings, and when I found my voice, I ended up blurting out the worst possible thing I could have said.

“I think I love you.”

I couldn’t decide if his laughter made me feel better or worse. Either way, I kind of wanted to die.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, my skin heating with embarrassment. “I have no idea why I just said that.”

He stroked my face and petted my hair, his touch gentle, soothing. “You don’t have to apologize, but let’s wait until the endorphins wear off and see how you feel then.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” I admitted. “I like you, and I really want to kiss you again, but my insides also feel like they just got dropped into a paint mixer.”

“That’s sounds pretty accurate,” he responded with another quiet chuckle. “Give it time. It’ll get easier.”

“What will get easier?”

His brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed at the corners as he studied me. “You really don’t know?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.” A thought occurred to me, an inkling, but it was too damn presumptuous to speak aloud.

“What you’re feeling is called a fate bond,” he explained, his tone and expression serious. “It means—”

“We’re mates?” I blinked, my mind spinning with the absurdity of the realization. “No. Freaking. Way.”

“Way.”

His dry tone broke through the thicket of conflicting thoughts, and breathy laughter puffed from my lips.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he added. “You’re not locked into this, and if you don’t want to be mated to me—”

“I do,” I interrupted. “I mean, I think I do. I’m not against it. That is, if you’re okay with it?”

I pressed my lips together and choked down a groan. Why couldn’t I ever just speak like a normal person around him?

“I assure you I have no complaints.” He hesitated, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Like I said, though, you don’t have to decide anything right now. We can—”

“I want to be mated to you. I am very, very okay with that.” I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and exhaled through my nose. “I guess I just don’t really know what that means.”

“It means you’re mine, Rylee Burke.”

“Lucky you,” I quipped sarcastically.

“I think so.”

Okay, well, aww. “You really mean that?”

“I really do,” he assured me. Before he could say more, the closet door rattled against the frame, and a box on top of the mess rolled down the small mountain of clothes. “Stop that.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Not you.” Caius shook his head. “This is important, and I promise I’ll answer any questions you have, but maybe we should stick a pin in it until we deal with the baby bird.”

I glanced around the room, then back to him. “You think a bird did this?”

“I’m sure of it.” He rose gracefully and offered a hand, helping me to my feet as well. “Besides the tool bag, did you find anything else in the living room when you came home that night?”

“No.” I pursed my lips as I thought about it, but I couldn’t recall anything else being out of place. “Nothing. Just the tool bag and the smoke alarm.”

“Are you sure? Did you maybe see a feather somewhere?”

“A f—oh! Yes!” My eyes widened, and I bobbed my head. “It was under the sofa.”

“Do you still have it?”

My eyes darted to the mess on the closet floor. “I do, but I really don’t want to go in there.”

Caius cuffed my ear gently and chuckled. “Fair. Tell me what I’m looking for, and I’ll get it.”

“It’s just a small pewter box.” I straightened my fingers and held my hands apart, palms facing each other. “About this big, and it’s covered in plastic gems.”

Nodding, he flipped the light switch to illuminate the room, then marched over to crouch down in front of the open closet door.

I tensed when a breeze kicked up around him, ruffling his feathers and flipping the ends of his hair, but nothing attacked him this time.

In fact, the interaction seemed almost playful, and I relaxed when I noticed Caius smiling as he dug through the clothes.

It took him a couple of minutes, but eventually, he found my treasure chest buried at the bottom of the pile and brought it to me.

“Is this it?”

Nodding, I took it from him and unhooked the latch to open the lid. A wave of nerves washed over me, and I hesitated for a moment before turning the box around so Caius could see my collection.

“Is it weird?” I muttered, staring down at my feet.

“Is what weird?”

“My treasures.”

“Not if it means something to you,” he answered easily as he plucked the feather out and held it up to the light by the shaft. “Yep, this is it.”

“Cool.” I tilted my head. “What is it?”

“It’s a phoenix feather.”

He said it as if that should mean something to me. It didn’t. “Mykal was a phoenix?”

“Is,” Caius corrected. “He’s not dead.” Looking away from the feather, he met my gaze and held it. “There is no ghost.”

“I didn’t say anything.” I mean, I’d thought it, but that was different. “I’m still going to need you to explain what the hell is going on, though.”

“You know the phoenix legends, right?”

I didn’t know why he asked. According to him, everything I thought I knew was wrong.

“When they die, they burst into flames and are reborn,” I ventured. “Is that right?”

“Close enough.” Carrying the feather to the bed, he placed it gently in the center of the navy comforter and took a step back. “Every couple of decades, phoenixes go through a renewal phase. It’s kind of like a bird molting its feathers, but more dramatic.”

“That’s interesting and all, but I still don’t understand. What does that have to do with the gh—with Mykal?”

“There’s a sort of transition period. The body burns away, leaving the spirit displaced. Without an anchor, it becomes trapped.”

“And the feather is the anchor,” I guessed. It still sounded like a ghost to me, but whatever. “So, everything that has been happening, that’s just Mykal’s spirit trying to get back to its anchor?”

“Correct.”

“And it’s all my fault.”

Caius looked at me, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t know.”

Maybe not, but I still felt like an asshole. “What happens now?”

He rejoined me at the foot of the bed, slipping his arm around my waist and tucking me against his side. “Hopefully, the spirit will reattach.”

Though the temperature of the room had returned to normal, chilled by the conditioned air that pumped from the vents, Caius felt so damn warm. Heat penetrated the thin cotton of my tee where his hand rested on my hip, tripping my pulse and making it difficult to breathe.

Though hyperaware of his closeness, I kept my attention on the feather, watching, waiting for something to happen. I wasn’t disappointed.

A warm breeze rushed past me, tickling my nape and mussing my hair, then swirled toward the ceiling to make the fan blades spin. The gold veins of the quill began to glow, the light soft at first but growing in brightness and intensity until it illuminated the entire room.

Tendrils of red and orange smoke began to curl from the end, and sparks crackled around the edges. As it neared its crescendo, a muffled pop echoed through the room, and a single flame flashed briefly, turning the once beautiful feather into a small pile of ashes on my bed.

Concerned, I turned to Caius. “Was that supposed to happen?”

“Look,” he said, drawing me closer to the mattress.

A teeny chirp sounded from the ashes, and a moment later, a naked baby bird lifted its head. About the size of a golf ball with protruding eyes and skin the color of midnight, it was so ugly it circled back around to being cute.

The chick let out another squeak, its beak opening wide as it bobbed unsteadily atop the comforter. I reached out instinctively, hesitating just before my fingers could brush its fragile body.

“Can I touch it?”

“Go ahead.”

I stroked a trembling finger over its bald head, smiling when it cooed and arched its neck to follow the movement. “This is really cool, but I’m not going to lie. It looks nothing like Mykal.”

Caius laughed, the sound warm, rich. “The chick will grow into an adult in about forty-eight to seventy-two hours. Then it will be able to shift between forms.”

I jerked my head up, my mouth falling open. “Will it turn into a human baby?”

Because I was so not equipped to deal with that.

“No.” He snapped out another surprised laugh and shook his head. “The bird will turn back into the Mykal you know, fully grown with all his memories intact. In the meantime, we wait.”

“What do I feed it?”

“You don’t. In fact, you don’t need to do anything.” He bent and scratched under the chick’s chin, his hand ridiculously large next to its tiny body. “Most phoenixes go through the transition on their own. I know he looks delicate, but he knows what to do.”

“I should build him a nest.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Can I use your feathers?”

“That’s not—”

“Keep an eye on him.”

“What are you doing?” Caius asked, watching me with an arched eyebrow.

“I’m going to get some grass and twigs, of course.”

“Rylee, you don’t—”

“I’ll be back. Don’t let him fall off the bed.”

“He won’t fall, but this isn’t—”

“Just watch him.”

Then I hurried out of the room, a clear goal in mind as I latched onto the one thing that actually made sense. I had no idea how to be a mate to a powerful griffin shifter.

But I could probably keep a magical baby bird alive for three days.