8. Casper #2
She’ll emerge soon enough after realizing that I’m not in her room, if she decides to check, and that’s when I’ll grab her.
My hand is on the doorknob, ready and waiting, the blood in my ears thumping to the bass beneath my feet. An aroma of spice, pumpkin, and vanilla fills my nose as I inhale, the candles burning bright all around me.
My gaze is glued to the screen, and all of a sudden, she bursts into frame, running like a monster is on her heels. Instinct takes over. I fly out of the room and into the hallway, shoving my phone into my pocket.
She screams when she spots me, the noise almost instantly drowned out by the music. Her boots dig into the wood, slamming to a halt, and instead of racing down the stairs, she races toward me, not stopping until she barrels into my body, knocking me back an entire step.
“Whoa,” I grunt and catch her, taken aback at the sheer force behind her tackle.
“Behind me!” she squeals.
My gaze snaps up, searching for what she could possibly be talking about. But I don’t see anything, aside from the darkness and shadows, outlined in the purple glow of my mask.
With my arm secured on her back, I guide us back into the room I was in, sealing it shut and locking it once we’re inside. I step back, rubbing up and down her arms as tears build in her eyes. Not exactly the type of tears I was aiming for tonight.
“What happened?” I demand to know, trying to calm the anger in my voice at whoever or whatever dared to scare her.
Her body is moving with her gasping, ragged breaths as she tears her mask from her head. She’s shaking, face pale and skin cool. It’s like she saw … a ghost. She rocks back and forth on the sides of her boots. I brush my fingers along her wrists, feeling her heart race uncontrollably.
“Deep breaths, baby.” I exaggerate my next inhale, long and slow. She doesn’t catch on to the first one, but she does the second. “There you go.”
I breathe with her until she calms, enough to at least talk to me.
“There—” She gasps, the terror still ripping through her body.
“There was a whisper.” Breath. “I thought it was you playing with me.” Breath.
“Then I swear I felt a hand on my back, shoving me sideways against the wall. Or yanking me toward it. I don’t know.
” Gasp. “But then I heard the voice again, and I realized why it sounded so familiar. It wasn’t you. It was the one who told me to leave.”
I’m so tempted to rip my mask off of my head, kiss her forehead, and pull her into my body, not letting her go until every ounce of fear has left her. But I think seeing the real me right now might actually just piss her off more since she loathes Craft Store Boy.
But I lean down with my mask still on and kiss her forehead through the mesh. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here. I’ll go check it out, all right?”
Her eyes widen, bigger than I knew was even physically possible. “No! Please don’t. Just stay here—” Her gaze flicks to the side, and she takes in the surroundings for the first time. “Whoa.”
While I don’t want to leave her, I also want to drag whatever punk is hiding there down the stairs and out of the house. Well, there is another way, and maybe now is the time to reveal a few of my secrets.
“We can talk about this in a minute.” I gesture to the room. “I can check the hallway from here,” I assure her, watching confusion pinch between her brows.
“What?” She’s looking at me as if I’m crazy. “What do you mean?”
Righting myself, I grab my phone from my pocket. “You’ve said that I have a good sixth sense, right? Like knowing when you get home or off work all the time.”
She nods.
“What if I told you that’s because I have a couple hundred cameras hidden throughout the house?”
She straightens slowly, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes, unsure if I’m telling the truth. But that’s easy to prove.
Unlocking my phone, I turn the screen to her, showing the grid of the third-floor cameras, displayed in three separate screens, the last one of her room from every angle. She takes it, her lips parted and eyes hungry to take everything in.
“I would say I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll ever apologize for making sure you’re safe.” My gaze is glued to her as I wait for the slightest indication that she’s either going to slap me or try to kiss me. I'd be happy with either.
Swiping back and forth, she studies the recorded footage of her moving throughout the lively house and back to the hallway she came sprinting from moments ago. “This is … impressive.”
Any responses I mentally prepared for go out the window because I wasn’t expecting that. “What?”
She shrugs, as if I were showing her the most mundane image.
Her gaze flicks up, finding mine through the mask. “I’ve had suspicions that you might have cameras. Honestly, I kind of hoped you did. I feel better, knowing you have an eye on me.”
I repeat her words in my mind, unsure if what I heard was actually what she said. I’m in shock. “You’re not mad?”
Glancing at the hallway on the screen once more, she hands the phone back to me. “No, I’m not mad.”
She chuckles, and it’s official—she’s battier than me. Wetting her lips, she peers up at me, and I see the switch flick in her eyes, her pupils dilating, like she’s slowly putting together that I’ve seen everything.
Her self-love sessions. Her occasional cryfests, where she lets everything out. The countless times she’s talked to herself and Penelope. But I love it. Watching her is my favorite part of the day.
In the blink of an eye, the intrigue fades from her stare, quickly replaced with uncertainty and horror. “What’s in this house? What keeps tormenting me? I felt a hand grab me … a voice ordered me away, but there was no one there.”
A memory appears in my mind—from the night she ran into her room, saying she heard that scary voice telling her to leave.
I fill her in on my discovery when I went back and checked the cameras.
No one was in the hallway that night aside from her.
She had heard footsteps following after her, but I didn’t see anyone there.
I absolutely believe in ghosts and spirits, and if this is that, how incredible because it’s a real ghost, and how fucking terrifying since it's targeting my girlfriend.
She’s speechless when I finish, staring at me with an indiscernible gaze. “You swear this isn’t part of your game? Trying to freak me out so I cling to you?”
I scoff. “While I appreciate that you think I’m such a creative genius, no. I’ll only scare you enough to heighten your senses and make you laugh, not to cause you actual fear, Mona.”
She groans. “I know. I just don’t understand.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” I assure her, an idea coming to mind that I’ll need to look into later. “I promise you.”
“How can you be so sure?” she murmurs, her voice soft and vulnerable.
Reaching out, I brush her cheek, wiping her worries away. “Because when it comes to you, nothing can stop me from keeping you happy and safe.”
Nodding, she bites down on her bottom lip, mulling over my words and taking a few seconds to come to terms with everything that just happened.
I’m sure a million thoughts are going through hermind.
But eventually, her shoulders lower, and with a big sigh and nod, her confidence returns, a spark now in her eyes.
She peers straight up at me with a flirty stare. “So, I’m being haunted by a ghost and stalked by you, all at the same time? How did a girl get so lucky?”
I huff. “First off, that ghost is temporary because, dead or alive, I’m the only one allowed to stalk you, Scaredy-Cat.”
Rolling her eyes, she smirks. Her stare lands across the room, quickly panning around and taking in the flickering candles. “What’s, uhh … what’s going on here?”
Stepping back and admiring my work, I sneer. “What? A guy can’t try to impress his girl?”
“Impress?” she challenges, feigning disappointment in her voice. “Sure.”
“Careful, Mona. I don’t want to scare you again after what just happened, but if you keep sassing me, I’ll have to do something about that attitude of yours.”
Tucking her arms behind her back, she rocks side to side, looking up at me like the most innocent angel. “What attitude?”
My hands lift between us, hovering in the air in front of her waist. Without laying a single finger on her, I guide her back.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. That smart mouth. Those tempting lips, muttering the rudest things.” My voice caresses her cheek as her back hits the wall, and I reach up, planting my hand on it, caging her in.
She shrugs, the playfulness in her surfacing over the fear. Drawing her bedazzled prop knife from the waistband of her skirt, she juts it against my bare abs, pretending to stab me.
“That’s really nice,” I tease her, lashing out and wrapping my hand around the rubber blade.
Her smirk grows bigger; she’s clearly happy with the position she’s in.
“Now what are you going to do?”
“Ask yourself that question, Spooky Boy,” she purrs.
Yanking the knife from her grasp, I flip it in my hand, grabbing the handle and pressing the rubber blade against her throat in a fluid movement.
Her spine arches off the wall as she tips her head back, staring straight up at me as I close in further.
“Is this what you wanted? Hmm?”
Biting down on her bottom lip, she nods. “Yes, please.”
“Wow.” I run the tip down her chest, over the black tank top covering her tits, and down her stomach. “So, you do know how to use your manners. I’ll remember that.”
She rolls her eyes again, and before she can even finish the motion, I drop the knife and grab her neck with my bare hand, brushing my thumb along her pulsing carotid.
Her pupils flare, lips parting. “Please.”
“Please what? Huh? What do you want me to do?” I urge her to speak her fantasies like she does over the phone. “Tell me.”
“Anything.” Her voice is breathy, sensual. “Everything.”
A mix between a grunt and a growl leaves me, and I repeat my words from earlier. “Careful what you wish for.”