A Fate Unknown: A PNR, Why Choose Novel (The Ghost Girl Series Book 1)

by Sinclair Kelly

  “And whose fault is that?” I snap, angry despite myself.

  “Mine. I know that.”

  I sigh, not wanting to fight. I get why he kept his distance. I would’ve done the same thing in his place. But it still hurts. Especially now that we know what he is to me. My first.

  A sigh escapes me again as the weight of all of this strife between us slowly starts to dissipate. With understanding, comes a certain level of clarity which allows me to see things in a way I hadn’t been able to, or wanted to, before. “Look, I don’t blame you, Cole. In fact, I should probably be thanking you.”

  At that, his blue eyes widen. “Whatever the hell for?”

  “For keeping them safe when I couldn’t. For protecting them and making sure you all got back to me.”

  We stand there, staring at each other - both of us realizing we’re at a sort of crossroads. I’m the first to look away. My own emotions are battering my defenses and his aren’t helping.

  “I need to take a shower,” I say softly, turning to walk away and only wincing slightly as the room tilts a bit.

  His hand reaches out and grabs my elbow, steadying me.

  “Why don’t you let me help you?”

  I look at him like he’s out of his mind.

  “You can keep your bra and panties on, just let me help you get the dirt and blood off.”

  I study him for a moment, surprised to still see this helpful, open side of him. Another olive branch. One I can’t and don’t want to refuse.

  “Okay.”

  Slowly, he reaches for the hem of my tank top and gently lifts it up, taking extra care when it has to go over my battered face. My eyes are locked on him as his finger comes down to trace a small, dark bruise on my abdomen where the blade impaled my ghostly form.

  “I was struggling to keep myself from going solid. It’s only a little sore,” I whisper.

  He sucks in a deep breath and releases it carefully, like he’s trying to calm himself down. Nothing about the interaction is in any way sexual, but it stirs something in my belly that feels distinctly familiar.

  I reach down and unbutton my jeans, working them over my hips. He shocks me again by dropping to his knees before me and helping me push the tight material down each leg and over my feet. I stand before him in nothing but a white lace bra and matching panties. He doesn’t ogle my body or make any suggestive comments, but my body blazes to life like a bonfire regardless.

  Standing again, he takes my elbow once more and walks us over to the large shower, through the glass door, and down to the far end. I swear, it’s at least a mile long walk. Or at least it feels that way with my body battered and Cole’s hands on me. Letting go long enough to reach over and turn on the water, making sure it’s the right temperature, his eyes once again meet mine. There are unspoken words reflected in them, telling me a story that I don’t think he even realizes he’s written. One that would probably send us both up in flames if we were to read the words out loud.

  “I’ll leave the jeans on,” he says quietly.

  “Why would you do that?”

  His face flushes with heat, which catches me off guard. He brings one of his large hands up and runs it down the back of his head and neck. His eyes won’t meet mine, and there’s something about his nervous energy that I find completely irresistible.

  “I, um...don’t really care for underwear.”

  My brain just about explodes with the implications of that simple statement.

  “It’s up to you,” I say softly. “I mean, we’re both adults, and I promise to behave.”

  His eyebrow quirks up like he doesn’t quite believe that last part, and he continues to stare down at me, reading something in my expression that tells him what he needs to know. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pushes them down his muscular legs.

  By some miracle, I manage to keep my eyes above his waist. I mean, I want to look. I really, really do. But I’m not sure my brain can withstand another hit at the moment.

  With his hands on my shoulders, he gently guides me back until I’m partially under the flow of water. I close my good eye, letting the warmth roll over me, rinsing away the chaos of the day and soothing my ridiculously sore body. His large hands begin to softly massage shampoo into my hair, eliciting a moan I can’t seem to stop from escaping my lips. It’s not a sexual sound, though I’d be lying if I said his touch wasn’t affecting me at all. When he’s done, he lets the water rinse the suds away before combing the conditioner through the strands with his fingers. There’s a shuffling somewhere beside me, bottles moving around with a thud here and clang there, like he’s moving them around, looking for something. The noise halts when he’s made his choice. The first touch of his hands as they begin to caress my body has me sucking in a gasp.

  “I’m sorry, did that hurt?” he murmurs.

  I shake my head and whisper, “No. It didn’t.”

  He pauses for a moment, gauging my words, before his hands return to my neck and shoulders, working his way down and under my arms, over my chest and stomach, around my hips, and the inside of my thighs before carefully washing each foot. He doesn’t linger on any one area, carefully working his way back up.

  His touch is all business, but my traitorous body doesn’t give a damn. My breathing has become erratic, and I’m drenched, not from the shower. I open my good eye and see his gaze is locked on me. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so safe and cared for. Maybe in my past life, but definitely not in this one.

  We stand there for a beat, taking each other in, neither of us making a move or speaking.

  Finally, it’s too much. All of the anger and sorrow and fear and regret and longing built up over the last however many years finally burst forth.

  We step into each other at the same time, our lips connecting with a force that would probably shatter the moment between mere mortals, but just stokes the fire between us even higher. The distinct tang of copper hits my tongue, and I know that my lip has busted open, but I can’t find it in me to give a damn. His large hand wraps around the back of my neck, pulling my face closer as if even the air between us should know better than to get in the way.

  His tongue licks the blood off my lip before forcing my mouth to obey his command and open for him. Our kiss is frantic. Manic. Out of control.

  He pulls back slightly, and I groan, hating the little bit of space separating us.

  My eyes open, and I see his widen in surprise as his thumb gently brushes underneath my black eye. The swollen one that suddenly doesn’t seem so swollen.

  “It’s healing,” he gruffly responds to my silent question. “So is your lip.”

  My tongue darts out to lick the cut but encounters nothing except smooth skin. Our eyes connect, and the barely banked heat in those normally icy blues is enough to have me melting on the spot.

  “How?”

  His fingers drop down and skim over the marks on my bicep. All five marks on my bicep. Our eyes meet again, and the tilted smirk on his lips even makes my inner bad girl swoon.

  “You’re all mine now.”

  “I think I always have been.”

  That’s what sends him over the edge of his control. Reaching behind me, he grabs my ass and hauls me up, my legs automatically finding their place around his waist. Before I can ask about his shoulder, my back is hitting the cold tile and his mouth is on mine again. His very large, very hard dick rubs against my panties, and I move my hips, trying to get enough friction to ease the ache that has been haunting me for so long.

  “Don’t tease,” I murmur as I come up for air.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds as his hand comes up to push the cups of my bra down, my breasts resting on the material. He just stares for a second before he’s diving in with a groan and swirling his tongue around my nipple, sucking until my head tilts back, hitting the tile. I don’t even feel it. He lavishes the same attention on the other one before he pulls back slightly. “I just needed a taste of those first.”

  “
This is not a taste test. This is a feast. Devour me. Now!”

  His chuckle is dark and delicious as his hand wraps around the leg of my panties and pulls. The threads snap, and the offending garment is sailing through the air behind him. We both moan as skin meets skin. His dick slides back and forth through my wetness, once, twice, three times. Granted, it feels better with the panties gone, but I still need him inside me.

  “Please,” I beg.

  “What do you want, love?” he whispers.

  “I need you. Now. Please.”

  His hand slides between us, grabs a hold of his dick, and lines himself up. He pushes in slightly and pulls back. In and out. In and out. I feel my power surge to life. Suddenly the feeling of him moving against me, teasing me, seems more than familiar. My body is remembering every touch, every caress of his skin against mine. The dueling sensations are vying for recognition, the phantom touch from a memory coming back into focus. We’ve been together like this before, entwined around each other, the cool tile against my back and his warmth enveloping me everywhere else. Every slip of him against my wetness feels amplified by its counterpart from my past, and I’m almost desperate in my need for him, two distinct sets of feelings coalescing inside me.

  “Now, my alpha,” I command in a voice huskier and deeper than my own.

  “Yes, my love,” he replies simply.

  The next time our eyes meet, mutual flames are reflected there.

  In one thrust, he’s filling me where I’ve been so empty for so long. He’s big, and I’m out of practice, but the little hint of pain is swept away by the pure pleasure of having him inside me. His warmth floods my soul and shatters the remaining barriers around my heart. With each thrust, he builds me back up, making me whole again. I can feel my body tightening, need and want coiling rapidly. His steady rhythm becomes erratic. His body joining with mine. Harder. Faster.

  “Fuck,” he moans. “You feel so damn good. I’m not sure I can…”

  “Don’t hold back. I want your cum. Now!”

  “Fuucckkk!” His groan is all it takes, and I’m flying over the edge with him. Soaring into the ether. Together. He’s still holding me like he’ll never let me go, the blackness surrounding us, almost caressing us, as our souls are reunited. It’s a place where no one can touch us or come between us. A darkness that only our light can dispel. His hips are continuing to thrust, slower now, dragging every last ounce of pleasure from both of our bodies. His mouth meets mine, but this time it's slow and gentle and says without words everything he’s feeling. Time seems to pause, though I have no idea if that’s how this works. I just know that this place is special. And it's ours. All of ours.

  When he finally pulls away, we’re back in the bathroom, both of us a little dazed and a lot exhausted. He slowly lowers me to the ground, holding on to steady me which I appreciate. I’m not all that sure I wouldn’t just crumble into a heap at his feet.

  “Let’s wash up and go get some rest,” he says quietly.

  We wash quickly, and he steps out to grab us towels. His goes around his waist, then he holds mine out for me. Stepping into him, his big arms wrap me in a brief embrace over the towel, and I take a moment to just enjoy the peace I feel. My face is squished into his chest, and I can barely breathe, but I don’t think I’ve felt this safe since...hell, probably since old me stood on this amazing warmed tile. He carefully dries me off, kissing my forehead before picking me up, the towel falling to the floor. Walking into the bedroom, he lays me down softly on the plush mattress. The sheets have been changed, the cream exchanged for a deep navy blue.

  “You changed the sheets?”

  He blushes slightly and shrugs. “They were ruined.”

  “You going soft on me, alpha?”

  He drops his towel, but this time, I don’t even attempt to keep my eyes above the waist. I take him in. Every long, thick, hard inch of him, before he climbs in next to me.

  He smirks. “Do I look soft to you?”

  “No. Nope. Definitely not,” I say, licking my lips. His dick bobs in response.

  “Uh uh. None of that look. There will be plenty of time for that later. Now, you need sleep.”

  I pout, but he refuses to be swayed. He lies down inches from me, once again face to face. His hand comes up, and his fingers softly trace over my neck.

  “The bruises are gone now.”

  “How’s your shoulder?”

  He rolls it a couple of times and moves his arm.

  “Good as new.”

  I grab his wrist and turn it toward me, finding the mark that matches mine. A solid line with a single dot in the middle. Because he was my first in our past life. And now he’s my first in this one. It feels destined.

  With one finger, I trace the mark of the Gateway just below my mark on his wrist.

  “Sounds like there’s a lot Reggie hasn’t told us.”

  “I don’t think she realized just how much we didn’t know.”

  “You’re right. We’ll have to ask her specifics.”

  “Later. Right now, we need to rest.” He pulls me closer, his hand resting on the space just above my ass. My head is tucked under his chin, my hand absently stroking his chest. With every breath, I inhale his earthy scent, with underlying hints of sunshine and soap. I didn’t know sunshine even had a scent until this moment, but it does, and it soothes me like few things can.

  “We should check on the guys,” I whisper, which is immediately followed by a yawn.

  “Reggie said she’d make sure they were okay and would only disturb us if anything went wrong. I think she wanted to give us some time alone.”

  I make a mental note to thank Reggie later.

  My eyes refuse to stay open a minute longer. Right before I drift off, I feel him place another soft kiss on my forehead. For the first time in a hundred years, my soul feels complete.

  The room is shrouded in black smoke from all the asshole ghosts we just sent packing. The back of my hand swipes across my forehead, collecting sweat and dirt along the way. I’m on edge. The emotions in the room slowly start to dwindle now that we’ve taken out the garbage...but not fast enough. Anger, hostility, fear, the need for revenge. All still swirling around, creating a powerful cocktail of negative energy. Even my usual breathing technique is struggling to keep it all at bay.

  Then there’s the worry I can feel from all the guys and the pain and guilt I can still sense from Cole. Fate is remarkably at peace, though there are muted traces of pain and worry as well. The sight of her dangling from that piece of shit’s hands will haunt me for a long time. Our little ghost just can’t catch a break.

  Where the fuck did they go, anyway?

  Glancing around the room, a scuffle near the door catches my attention. The twins have some poor schmuck of a ghost backed up against the wall and are taunting him with their powers.

  Rolling my eyes, I shout, “Hey, numbnuts! Stop dicking around.”

  “How about you make us?” Thad jeers.

  “Ignore them,” Mack says, coming up beside me. “At least it’s keeping them occupied.”

  “True that. Where the fuck are Cole and Fate?”

  “She passed out. Cole carried her out of here with Reggie guiding him. I really think we need to check on them.”

  “I’m sure Cole’s got it under control. Let’s make sure everything is cleaned up in here, and then we can figure out where he’s taken her.”

  “You’re right. I’m sure Cole would let us know if anything were wrong,” he murmurs, staring at the door like a dog whose owner just left for the day. His fear and worry are damn near suffocating me.

  “She’ll be okay, mate.”

  “I know you’re right. I just keep seeing her impaled by that damn blade, and it’s making me all...itchy.”

  “Itchy? That sounds like a personal problem.”

  He turns to me and glares. “Shut up. You know what I mean. It’s like something inside me needs to see her to confirm she’s still alive.”

&n
bsp; “I feel the same way, Mack. A part of me is desperate to go to her, but luckily for me, my empath abilities are helping me keep it locked down. I can feel that she’s okay, so I don’t need to storm the castle to hunt her down.”

  His hand lifts to brush through his messy waves, which fall into even bigger disarray. He’s got a black smudge across his cheek, and his glasses are smeared with...god only knows what. “Cole was hurt too. What if…”

  “Mack, they’re both fine. I promise. I’ll know if anything changes.”

  A sigh escapes as he struggles with his growing panic.

  My hand grips his shoulder firmly, letting him know he’s not alone. What he needs most right now is to be grounded. As much as I'm accustomed to being surrounded by emotions, Macklin is the opposite. Living his life with his head in cold, hard facts has left him unprepared for the vulnerability and emotional dependence that comes with this reignited connection to Fate.

  “Right now, I’m pretty sure they’re both asleep. Their feelings are muted, but still very much there.”

  “Okay. You’ll tell me if you feel anything happening, right?” he asks, swiping a hand across his cheek, spreading the sooty mark even more.

  “I will. I swear.”

  He nods, walking to a closet and grabbing brooms and a few rags along with some sort of cleaning spray.

  “How the hell did you know that was there?”

  “I…” he trails off. His brows furrow for a second, obviously trying to work something out in that big brain of his. “I just knew. Maybe the Gateway mark added to my knowledge banks or unlocked that portion of my memory. I’m not sure.”

  “Huh. Okay, then.” He tosses me a broom, and we get to work cleaning up the dirt and overall grime from the slimy spirits. Amazing how much residue those fuckers can leave behind. The blood stains from Fate are another matter. I grab a rag and spray bottle and begin cleaning up the evidence that our little ghost is no longer a mere presence but a flesh and blood woman. What’s more concerning is that she’s able to be harmed by spirits. With that thought, I realize that the shroud of black smoke has been replaced with a blanket of worry covering the entire room. Now I’m the one with a prickly sensation crawling across my skin like an itch that can’t be scratched.