Chapter Twenty
Lai
I didn’t resist when Ghost lifted me into his arms and carried me to the Challenger’s passenger seat. I might be a dragon, but I was also a princess, and there was something pleasantly humiliating about being carried like one after an evening spent proving I was perfectly capable of violence.
I could have walked, perhaps; not with any dignity or grace, but I could have.
Instead, I rested my head against Ghost’s shoulder and allowed him to lower me into the seat with a great deal of care.
The leather was cold beneath my wet clothes, and even the gentle movement sent a deep pulse of pain through my ruined ankle.
I caught Ghost’s shoulder, my fingers tightening until the worst of the pain had passed.
Ghost’s eyes sharpened. “Broken?” He asked.
“No.” I didn’t think so, anyway.
Ghost’s mouth twitched into a faint smile, but concern remained half-hidden in the lines of his face.
He closed the passenger door and sank into the driver’s seat, twisting the ignition as he settled.
His engine turned over reluctantly; the first try ended in a rough cough beneath the hood, and I tensed, worried I might have messed up the fuses after all.
The second turn produced a violent metallic rattle somewhere behind us, and on the third, the Challenger’s engine caught and settled into a deep, uneven idle.
I leaned against the rain-streaked window and closed my eyes, letting the vibration travel from the glass into my temple, down my jaw and through my chest as I indulged in every discomfort; how my wet clothes clung to my body, how mud was drying tightly across my skin, how blood was settling beneath my tongue, leaving a copper taste.
My scalp stung where it had split, and my rapid pulse still hammered against my throat with the remnants of adrenaline and the smell of fuel mingling with rain.
It was all so glorious.
The Challenger shifted, balancing on its wheels as if checking if he still had the parts intact to drive with.
He shuddered and shifted forward, his tires spinning when he attempted the embankment, carving deep channels through the mud before catching against something solid and dragging us up onto the road.
“How are you feeling?” Ghost asked, glancing over to me as the streetlights settled into a lazy rhythm above us.
“I…” I caught my reflection in the window; for a moment, I barely recognized the man staring back at me. His lavender hair plastered to his face, his coat soaked with rain, and his mouth painted red where his lip had split. He looked deranged.
He looked happy.
The reflection blurred as I focused beyond it and found Ghost watching me from the driver’s seat. His features were little more than suggestions, but his blue eyes were unmistakably brighter, the cold light from them a little warmer.
He was smiling too.
Neither of us spoke, but I knew we were sharing the same wondrous thought; that anyone who thought revenge could never heal anything and that violence couldn’t bring peace was wrong.
Revenge felt bloody marvelous. The satisfaction sat low and warm inside me, dulling the pain in my leg and the sting along my scalp. Ghost’s engine carried the same contentment evident in his uneven, limping rumble. I knew he was pleased; there was nothing left to say.
I just hoped he wasn’t going to make me learn body work.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked, lulled by the rocking and fighting sleep.
Ghost turned back to face the road, still smiling. “Home.”
◆◆◆
Across all of my many years and countless battles, the only opponents I could never beat were my own leaden eyelids. One moment I was watching rain crawl across glass; the next, harsh white light forced me reluctantly awake.
I opened my eyes beneath the LED strips of the underground garage.
Ghost’s engine had gone quiet; the absence of vibration felt wrong beneath me, and I groaned as I reached for his door handle, every muscle protesting as I dragged myself from the cabin.
The interior stank of mud, blood and damp leather, but that was tomorrow’s problem.
Tonight, all I required was a hot shower and a cold drink.
My bad leg nearly folded when it took my weight, forcing me to catch myself with the roof of the car; I swore, and Ghost appeared immediately, catching me by the elbow, supporting me without controlling me.
“We have company,” he cautioned me, murmuring into my ear; I turned to look, and groaned.
Al was staring at me. Fox waited behind him with headlights blazing, the beams flickering anxiously as he took in the state of us. “Where were you two? What the hell happened?” Al demanded, his gaze traveling from the blood on my face to the mud coating my clothes, his mouth tightening with worry.
Great. Interrogation hadn’t been on my list of needs tonight, but here we were.
“We’re okay,” I promised, leaning into Ghost.
“The Hell you are.” Al circled the Challenger, his concern decaying into horror as he noted each fresh scrape.
One side of Ghost’s bumper hung slightly lower than the other, and long wounds stripped the white paint down to bare metal.
A deep dent warped the hood where we had driven through the workshop doors.
Al stopped in front of Ghost and pointed helplessly. “How?”
Ghost carefully released me and moved to sit on the damaged hood, directly above the worst of the destruction. “What can I say? Hot girls hit curbs.” He shrugged.
Fox’s engine produced a startled cough, and Al stared at us as if both of us had lost our minds.
I had no doubt he was calculating the cost of replacement parts, but that didn’t worry me; I could afford to fix Ghost. The only thing I was worried about right then was the fact that Ghost and I had some unfinished business, and Al was in the way.
“We’re fine, Al. Go home,” I ordered as I followed Ghost to the hood, my hand sinking into the dent in the metal. My fingers brushed against chipping paint, and I noted with interest that Ghost shivered just a little as I touched.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Fox asked, his bright yellow eyes filled with worry.
I almost barked another dismissal before I paused to take another look at Al and Fox. Al was still shirtless beneath his leather jacket, and powdered all over with glitter, while Fox’s engine was silent and cold. They had waited for us, staying awake to make sure we came home.
Something in my chest softened.
“We’ll be fine,” I promised. “The injuries are annoying, not fatal; Ghost will need repairs, and I might need to swap my cane for crutches for a little while, which I won’t because I am far too proud for my own good, but we’ll both be okay.”
Al’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“Really.” I let out a breath and added, more quietly, “Thank you. Both of you. For tonight, and for waiting.”
Fox’s headlights steadied, and Al studied me, searching for proof of a lie. “We can stay if you need us.”
“No. Go home. Sleep.”
Al’s gaze drifted between Ghost and me, and understanding settled across his face, along with a judging expression I didn’t care for; Al was nothing but a hypocrite. I pointed toward the garage door, my patience vanishing. “Out.”
◆◆◆
For the first time since the workshop, Ghost and I were alone.
I slid my hand under the lip of his hood, ignoring the amusement on his face as I groped. “Show me, ” I ordered as I searched for the release latch. “I want to make sure you are okay.”
Ghost’s eyes dropped to my injured leg, then rose to the blood drying against my temple. “Is now really the time for this? You can barely stand; you’re in no position to fix anything.”
Nevertheless, he slid from his perch as I waved a hand at him, and I traced my fingers over his damaged hood, the metal still warm beneath the mud and blood.
A sharp crease distorted the reflection of the garage lights.
I finally found the latch, only to find it stuck from the damage. “Damn. Ghost, can you open it?”
Ghost’s brow lifted. “Darlin’, I’m not the one in need of a service right now.” His presence pressed against my back before his arms closed around me, one broad palm settled carefully at my waist, his thumb resting above my hip. The touch was restrained, almost hesitant.
I straightened slowly and turned within the circle of his arm. My hand settled against his chest. “I am sorry,” I mumbled, shamefaced.
Ghost’s expression hardened. “For what?”
I glanced toward the dented hood. “For the damage. The workshop was my plan. I knew what I was asking of you, but seeing you now–”
Ghost’s cassette deck clicked; my Eurotrash techno music exploded through the speakers, loud enough to make a row of tools vibrate against the wall. I stared at him. “Ghost.”
Ghost ignored me and increased the volume.
“How dare you silence my apology by assaulting me with my own excellent taste?” I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief.
Ghost’s eyes narrowed sweetly as he pressed closer against me, his lips brushing my ear. “Oh, little Hellcat…”
I tried resisting. I didn’t want to, not really, but it wasn’t my style to just melt in someone’s arms. “You hate this tape. Why are you playing it?”
His voice softened in a way that left me dangerously weak. “Because you love it.”
The answer caught beneath my ribs.
Ghost brushed his knuckles over the blood dried along my temple, barely touching the skin. His gaze followed the trail down to my split lip. “You got hurt for me,” he worried, turning down the volume of the music just a little.
“No.” I shook my head. “I was hurt beside you.”
His thumb moved beneath my lower lip. The gentleness of the touch made my hunger sharpen until it became almost unbearable. We were both hurt, dirty, exhausted. ‘Lai’, the rational part of my mind begged. ‘Save it till tomorrow.’
I pulled Ghost closer as I turned to face him. His hips met mine, and his hands moved to my waist, steadying rather than claiming. “What do you need?” He asked; there was no teasing in the question.