Page 9

Phantom

M y throwing knife hissed as I unsheathed it from my hip. The air sizzled when I let it fly, and if not for the trembling mess of a girl in my arms, I would have cheered when it struck right in the middle of the phone pointing at us.

Pity I broke it. It looked expensive, and I would have loved to sell it.

The woman who took the shot stared at her phone incredulously, not yet terrified. She was in shock. I got that a lot—something about human brains being unable to keep up with the speed of my movements.

“Drop it and go, or the next knife will go in your eye,” I said with a grin, my voice filled with laughter.

I wasn’t really going to do it, of course. It was a joke. But as she looked up and screamed, I could tell at once she had no sense of humor.

“God, you’re shrill,” I said with a grimace, bemoaning the fact I couldn’t say “fuck”.

See what you did, Clarissa Ashford? You made me take your God’s name in vain.

Barbara squirmed, trying to move. I pushed her closer, my fingers closing around her nape in a quelling gesture. We had a deal, and no matter how I hated being blackmailed, I would honor it. She didn’t want her mother to know she went out, ergo, there could be no pictures of her being out in the papers.

When the paparazzi stumbled away, still clutching her phone, I unsheathed my other knife and held the blade between two fingers.

“You have three seconds. Three… Two…”

She dropped the phone with a crunch and ran away, her sneakers pounding the pavement. I looked around slowly, checking every bush and fence to make sure no more vermin lurked around us. Barbara said something, her voice muffled, and I shushed her.

“Stop squirming. Be a good girl and let me do my job.”

She froze, and I hummed in appreciation. There. Now I could take my time, and even though I’d already scanned our surroundings twice and was ninety-nine per cent sure we were safe, one could never be too careful. Especially while holding such a warm, nice-smelling, pretty thing in one’s arms.

Fuck, she really smelled good. It was something citrusy and sophisticated, and I wanted to roll in that scent for hours. Preferably on a bed, though a nice, plushy carpet would do, too.

I almost groaned with frustration. There went my composure and all the promises I made to myself while beating my meat before we went out. I did it twice for good measure, because once wasn’t good enough.

As my jizz went down the drain of my bath, I even fooled myself into thinking my momentary lapse in judgment was all gone and forgotten. The image of my principal’s tits wasn’t seared into my brain, I told myself. I’d just beat it out of me. I could be professional.

Yeah. That was me, being professional, as I tried to press every inch of her body to me while being inconspicuous about it.

Fuck. I really had to let go now. And sort myself out fast , before this small snafu became a huge, stinking fuck-up.

“All clear,” I said, my voice sounding gritty. I forced my hands to let go of her. It felt like my own body fought me on this, something deep in my guts growling for me to keep her close.

She stumbled away, her face red, eyes shiny as she gave me a wide-eyed look before whipping around to the broken phone. A tremble went down her back when she saw it, and I clicked my tongue, looking around again before I pocketed the phone and put my throwing knife back in its sheath.

The coast was clear for now , but if that paparazzi found us, others could as well.

“Come on. We have to go,” I said. “Put your sunglasses on.”

That finally made her move. She obeyed and turned to me, her mouth flattening into a tense, unhappy line. My hands itched to touch her again, and I resented my body for wanting something that clearly wasn’t good for it.

The girl was a shit-ton of issues held together by pink bubble wrap. Definitely not someone for me.

“We’ll take the bike, no discussion,” I said when I had her attention. “We need to move fast if you want to keep this a secret.”

“Or what?” she asked, her voice eerily calm. I couldn’t assess her expression properly with her eyes covered. “You’ll throw a knife at me, too?”

Now, that was unfair. I gritted my teeth and came over, grabbing her wrist.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m on your side. Now listen to Daddy and hop on my bike, will you? We’ve been exposed long enough.”

She made a choking sound and let me drag her to my ride. I made her lean back against the side of it and hid her from view, a helmet in my hand, while she took off her cap and sunglasses. She was tense, her knuckles white where they gripped her cap. Unhappy, scared, uncomfortable—she was probably all three, and I couldn’t shake the feeling at least some of that was my fault.

Something wrenched in my chest, and I observed the unfamiliar sensation with alarm. It was like worms were squirming in there, crawling all over my heart and making me want to… do things.

Not used to denying myself, I gave in to the instinct.

“Don’t be afraid of me, okay? It was a joke. I wouldn’t have hurt her, since she was no danger. And I won’t hurt you. You have my word,” I said, hating the fact I explained myself. I never did that.

Except for now. Because for some fucked up reason, I wanted her to feel safe.

And even worse—I wanted her to like me. She never would, of course. I was a black panther with a mental disorder and she was some sort of pedigree kitten wearing a diamond collar and a pink bow. We’d never fit.

When she raised her big, vulnerable eyes to my face, I felt her gaze like a physical touch. It fucking tingled, and not just in my facial area, but everywhere. Hating that I reacted to her so strongly, I shoved the helmet on her head without warning. She squeaked in outrage, but I didn’t care.

There. Her big blue eyes couldn’t hurt me now.

The moment she sat behind me, her hands tentatively holding my middle, I disassociated hard. My psychiatrist called it a suboptimal coping mechanism and encouraged me to embrace mindfulness instead, but fuck, if I focused on those thighs bracketing my hips and the fact we were riding together—get it?—I’d break my word. I promised the girl no boners on the ride.

Besides, disassociation worked. I did it ever since that Mexican cult tried to burn me on the stake when I was nine. As the flames licked up my armor, I picked faces out of the crowd whenever the smoke shifted enough to let me see and imagined all the ways I would slaughter them after I got free. That way, I almost forgot about the pain.

I even managed to laugh, which freaked my persecutors right out.

Now, I thought about all the ways I would deal with Barbara’s mind manipulator when I got him. Deepthroating him with a red-hot poker was my current favorite, but I had trouble finding a believable excuse for doing that to put in my report.

He tripped and fell on it, I swear on my balls.

Maybe I’d kidnap him, do what I wanted, and pretend he disappeared? Fatima would know, but then, she needed me. She’d let it slide. Probably.

Barbara pressed closer, making a soft, scared sound in the back of her throat when I leaned into a sharp curve. My disassociating fantasies scattered, and I was plunged into the hideously uncomfortable reality of having this warm, gorgeously smelling female pressed to my back. Damn, she felt good.

“The library,” I gritted out, stopping in a free parking place. “Off the bike, doll.”

I counted pokers in my mind while she clumsily got off, her body shifting and sliding against mine. One hot poker in the mouth, two hot pokers in the eyes, three hot pokers in the ass, four hot pokers…

“Finally,” I muttered when she stepped away, hastily taking the helmet off. She pushed the sunglasses onto her face and pulled her cap low, avoiding my eyes. Her cheeks were red, hands clenched, and she seemed very uncomfortable.

Good. That made two of us.

“Thank you for the ride,” she choked out, already heading for the front door.

I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying she shouldn’t thank me until I rode her properly.

“So let me get this straight,” I said while we entered through the wide glass doors and Barbara stopped, looking around uncertainly. “You don’t want your mother to know about this little trip to the library. But why? Does she think that, I don’t know, libraries are the dens of iniquity or something?”

She turned to me, the corner of her mouth lifting briefly. “Dens of iniquity. I like that—but no. She simply believes reading doesn’t suit my image. If she knew I came here, she’d realize I’m trying to grow a backbone. She’d nip it in the bud. Or send me away. I’m not strong enough to deal with it right now.”

Her expression fell, and she rolled her shoulders back, straightening. She hesitated for a moment before she took off her sunglasses, though the cap stayed on. I said nothing, watching as she approached the help desk, inquiring politely about accessing a certain book she found in the library’s catalog online.

Her manner was decidedly different from when she dealt with me, and even though the librarian manning the desk was nothing special, just a nerd in his late twenties wearing a knitted vest, I felt a stab of jealousy when she gave him a radiant, photoshoot-ready smile. His face lit up with delight, and I could tell at once he thought she was into him. And hell, maybe she was.

She never smiled like that at me. It was beyond alarming that I cared.

While Barbara listened to the librarian’s eager instructions, I texted my psychiatrist.

“HELP! Am in lust with someone and it makes no sense. She’s not even my type. Send me some drugs that will kill my libido.”

The librarian produced a map of the building, explaining something to Barbara with growing excitement that made his freckled face all red while she leaned closer to look at what he showed her. The monster in my gut stirred, urging me to knock out the creep for daring to engage her attention that way.

My phone pinged.

“Your libido is drug-resistant. What’s the problem? If she consents, you can satisfy that urge.”

The librarian touched Barbara’s elbow, explaining something with breathy eagerness. She stayed put, but there was something wrong with her smile. Radiant before, it seemed fixed. My monster growled, but I had to at least try to be objective, didn’t I? If I killed every man who was attracted to her, there would be a bloodbath.

“She definitely won’t consent and I can’t fuck her. HELP. ME. It’s dire. I gave her my jacket when she was cold.”

That was the first moment when I acted unlike myself, now that I thought about it. I didn’t know her at all then. It made absolutely no fucking sense.

“Observe, don’t react,” came the unhelpful reply. “Our appointment is next week. We’ll figure out a coping strategy then.”

I raised my face to observe as the nerdy librarian pushed his glasses up his sweaty face. He’d walked around his desk and stood by her side, having his arm around her shoulders while he pointed down a corridor going off the main hall.

She clutched a plastic card in her hands, her knuckles white. When he leaned closer, bringing his face level with hers, she discreetly turned in my direction and mouthed what I was pretty sure was, “Help me.”

My phone pinged again. “ And don’t do anything rash.”

Well, it was too late for that. I was already striding over to my principal. Before the librarian realized what was going on, I pushed his hand off and had my own arm around her, giving him an unhinged grin as I pressed her close with possessive menace.

“Did you get everything you need, kitten?” I asked, sliding my hand down her arm in something akin to a caress.

Barbara huffed angrily, but the librarian didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at my face with his mouth open, sheer terror painting his features. I let my grin grow as wide as it could, tucking her closer while her nostrils flared with fury.

“Now, don’t go flirting around, my cutesy little bear. You know what happened to the last guy you gave your number to, eh?”

The librarian took a step back, and Barbara tried to throw me off, but to no effect. She was in my clutches now, and I wouldn’t let go.

“W-what?” the librarian asked. “What happened to him?”

I turned to give him my full attention, and he paled so much, his face looked completely bloodless.

“Let’s say he lost his head,” I said with a mean little laugh. “Now, are we done here? You got everything, sweetie?”

“Yes,” she growled, trying to get away.

I gave the librarian one last grinning look, and he hastened to get behind his desk, watching us with wide eyes. And no wonder. We must have looked so grotesque, with me all in black, my head a horrid skull, while she was obviously a ten, even without makeup and with casual clothes on.

Well, for the next few moments, I would pretend she was my ten, even though I was fully aware that sort of thing was beyond impossible.

As soon as we were out of sight in a corridor leading to the Psychology Reading Room, according to a placard hanging under the ceiling, she stopped abruptly and turned to me.

“What was that? Have you lost your mind?”

I almost purred. Here she was again, my furious little kitten. My drug-resistant libido cheered.

“I lost my mind a long time ago,” I answered her question. “This here is full of hedonism and a healthy dose of blood thirst.”

I tapped my temple, indicating my rotten brain, and she stomped her foot in anger. “Why can’t you be serious? Is everything a joke to you? God, I can’t believe you’re the one thing standing between me and death. What did I do to deserve this?”

“Something very naughty, no doubt,” I said with a grin, my spine tingling from her proximity.

She stood very close now, her upturned face filled with delicious anger. Oh, damn, if I just lowered my head a bit, I could kiss her.

That thought sobered me up. I didn’t kiss. Not even with the most fetishistic human girls who legit begged me on their knees, throwing away their pride and self-respect just to get a kiss from an abomination.

Barbara wasn’t one of those girls. If I tried to kiss her, she would probably hurl up her breakfast all over me. The squirmy feeling in my heart grew in power, becoming a slimy little itch. With every second I spent looking into her belligerent face that was so heinously close to mine, it grew stronger, until I couldn’t stand it.

I covered her face with my palm, pushing her away. It took maybe two seconds before she threw my hand off, hissing in fury, but I relished it to the fullest. Her face was so small, I could almost cover it with my palm. And now, my mind was stuck on proportions, and I watched her mouth speculatively, wondering if she could take all of me.

Goddammit. It was like my brain was against me, too.

She made an indignant sound, righting her cap that almost fell off her head. I breathed in relief when she kept her distance. Her furious glare turned into a full-on glower, and I suspected she was plotting my murder.

“I was just trying to help you,” I said, attempting damage control. “You asked me to. Next time, deal with your admirers yourself.”

She shook her head, throwing her hands in frustration. “Admirers? He was just excited to talk about the library, and I didn’t know how to interrupt him without being rude. All I wanted was for you to come over and say we needed to go!”

I stared at her, wondering whether she was joking or just delusional. But Barbara looked sincere, her frustration almost palpable.

“That guy was hitting on you,” I told her slowly, watching if my words sank in. “I thought you wanted me to stop him from flirting with you.”

She gave me an offended look, as if she thought I lied to her. “Please. That wasn’t flirting. He just wanted someone who’d listen to him. I’m a good listener, mainly because I almost never talk.”

“Yeah? Could have fooled me.”

I wanted to say something more about how I thought she was a total moron for not noticing when a man was into her, but a ghoul woman wearing a pencil skirt and a severe expression rounded the corner, giving us a penetrating look. Barbara shoved her sunglasses back on her nose and went over to the reading room, swiping her card on the digital lock. The door buzzed open, and we entered.

Unable to help myself, I leaned in and took a sniff of her hair. I couldn’t have her, I knew, but since she was stuck with me, no one would keep me from taking what I could.