Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
Greesha
I gasp as the remnants of the nightmare linger.
My vision half-engulfed with images of Advik’s life leaving him. The blankness of his stare—lifeless—is still a pressing weight on my chest.
I vaguely realize that my one hand is under my pillow. The alertness of my action makes my head snap in the direction of my door.
He’s here. Leaning against the open door frame. Watching me so inquisitively that my heart pounds in my chest too loud. His lips twitch—maybe he can hear it.
“Nightmare?” Advik says softly.
“I guess,” I breathe out. But I don’t move.
He pushes off the frame casually. “I guess it was because I’ll be walking into the lion’s den tomorrow. Endangering myself?”
My jaw aches with the constant clenching. I hate how he knows the triggers now. This isn’t the first time I’ve found him lingering outside my room. But he’s usually outside—not cross-armed against my door. His biceps bulging through his t-shirt.
“Probably,” I reply nonchalantly.
“So...” He walks over to the end of my bed, his gaze so intense that my breathing picks up yet again. The nightmare forgotten in the depth of his beautiful brown eyes. “Where’s my kiss?”
“Seriously?” I say, deadpan. “You want a kiss because—”
“I’m endangering myself.” He shrugs, smirking. “And that’s the bargain, isn’t it?”
I frown. “Are you... on drugs?”
He chuckles lightly as he takes an unwelcoming seat on my bed, near my thighs. His eyes soften as he sobers. “Was it a bad one?”
I’m frozen in my bed, unable to breathe through the panic of reality—not the stupid nightmare. I blink rapidly to dispel the vision of urging him to not just sit there—but climb into bed with me. Cage me with his body. I picture myself yanking him closer by his collar. That’s unhealthy.
He notices the change because I watch his eyes heat up. “I guess you’re doing okay. It’s not like the other times I’ve had to... hold you.”
“You... you hold me?”
He nods slowly, eyes slightly pained as if he’s recalling a memory I was a part of but can’t remember.
“Your thrashing is not frequent. But I do hold you when it happens. And I leave before you...” He smirks weakly as he nods at my hand that’s still clutching the dagger under the pillow. “Stab me to death.”
“Oh.” My chest heaves at the old memory of him holding me through my first night terror here. How I kicked him out.
He sighs, shifting enough to make me realize he’s leaving again. And for the life of me, I can’t understand why I don’t want him to. He doesn’t look defeated, or annoyed. If anything, he looks content. As if his only goal to check in with me was to find out if I was okay.
It doesn’t help that I’m absolutely fine—but my heart is racing with loss. He is, in fact, risking his life tomorrow. And if anything does happen—this is our last night, isn’t it? Whether he dies, or I die protecting him.
“I owe you a kiss,” I blurt out without having my brain properly articulate my thoughts.
Embarrassment washes over me when I watch his face morph into the most smug expression I’ve ever seen.
He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even care to give me a prelude to his next move. A blink—and he’s over me.
My thighs locked between his, but it’s not oppressive. It’s... shielding. His head drops on mine, one hand grazing my waist almost possessively.
“I’m aware...” he whispers, “that you can easily end this. But I hope you don’t, baby.”
His hand holds my elbow as his lips descend on mine in a hungry, aching kiss. I open up so eagerly—my tongue dancing with his—that I don’t notice his hand slowly sliding on my forearm. Enticingly reaching my hand that clutches the dagger.
I’m so lost—my hand clutching his hair—that I also don’t notice his other hand slipping under my neck, gripping us closer. His chest warm against mine.
The moment his searching hand reaches my fisted one—clutching the weapon—he coaxes it loose.
And I comply. Enough that when his lips become harsher on mine—hungrier than ever before—my grip gives away.
He absently chucks the knife out of my hand and throws it somewhere on the floor. The clattering noise almost muted.
The same hand is now frantically caressing every inch of my body. My waist, my shoulder, my chest, my neck. But I feel his hesitation. Hell, I absorb it. It seeps into me like lightening. But I don’t want to hesitate.
Our lips locked, I grab his wandering hand and bring it to my breasts. Urging him.
He leans back, breathless. “Greesha...”
I forced him down by the neck, capturing his stupid, talking lips again. Pouring everything into the kiss.
My fear. My hurt. My anger. And... my love.
He takes my cue. His moves no longer unsure. My tank top is a scant mess by the time I realize I’ve unlocked the ravaging monster in him. My back arching into him, desperate for his heat.
His mouth starts to leave wet kisses all over my cheek, my jaw... my throat.
“Greesha, Greesha, Greesha,” he chants gaspingly into my skin. His body starts to shake uncontrollably when he leans back suddenly.
“Vik...” I moan. “Please...”
“Hold on.” He shifts slightly. “I... wanna check something real quick.”
A devilish smirk painting his face. And I know exactly where his hands are going next. But I don’t care. In fact, I need it—want it.
My stomach clenches as his fingers travel south.
I feel his trembling fingers, exploring the wetness beneath my shorts.
“Fuck...” he breathes out, leaning his forehead against mine. His eyes shimmering. “You’re so fucking wet. For me. I can’t believe this.”
His finger rub my clit in enticing circles—using my wetness. I writhe against his hand but it’s not enough. It’s as though, with every move he’s seeking my permission.
I cup his face in my shaky hands. “Take me.”
Those are all the words he needs before his fingers plunge inside me with certainty. His lips capturing mine again.
I’m here.
I’m with Advik.
A random chant encroaches my head. I shove it away.
My moans grow louder as he coaxes my release. His mouth now locked on my hardened nipples.
“Fucking hell, Greesha,” he groans. “Come for me. Get there, my warrior ghost.”
As though the new nickname sends a shiver down my spine—I explode into stars. A feeling so intense that I feel like I haven’t felt it in years.
The echoes of my release are barely settling, my body still quivering—when I watch him taste me on his fingers. His eyes closing on a flutter.
I know he’s planning to leave again when I feel his hand near my head prop him up. A ridiculous rendition of ‘this was for you’ is about to follow. I just know it.
Within seconds, I have my shorts off—along with my underwear and tank top.
“Fuck... stop, baby,” he says in a strangled voice. “We’re not—”
“Take me,” I repeat again. A phrase I’ve never used with anyone else. Just him. “Fuck me like I’m the only one.”
His eyes squeeze shut with pain. And I know I’ve hit a nerve. A painful ache blooms in my chest—knowing that we’ve both been with others since.
“You are...” His voice is hoarse, cracking. “You are the only one my body ever knows, my warrior ghost. Ever craved...” He takes off his t-shirt and sweatpants. “Ever wanted.”
So help me God—I believe him.
His straining, hard cock nudges at my entrance. Raw. Unprotected.
I guess I gasp because his fierce, tortured gaze seeks mine. “I’ve... never. I’ve... I’m clean. There’s been no one except...”
A hysterical sob rips out my throat. His pained face mirroring mine. But I know what he wants to say. And what it forces me to reveal.
“Her?” I whisper.
His face crumples in agony—managing a weak nod. Just as he attempts to shift away, I grab his hips, forcing him back near my entrance. “It’s okay. I’m... clean too.”
“B-birth control?” he whispers softly.
Now it’s my turn to crumble under his misty gaze. “I... I can’t. It’s okay.”
His eyes widen at my admission. His breathing unnatural—almost panicky. “Baby—”
“Take me,” I plead with all my might.
I have a feeling we’ll be talking about this if we both survive tomorrow. But now isn’t the time. I need him. Inside me. For possibly the last fucking time.
The moment he fills me up, I gasp at the familiar stretch. My body instantly recognizing the pain and love mingling.
“Oh God...” I breathe out.
His lips crash on mine instantly. His gasping words hit my ear. Words of love, of affection—of a bleeding heart.
“My Greesha.”
“I love you, Gree.”
“My ghost. My warrior ghost.”
My mind threatens to dissociate when he goes silent. He’s probably lost to the throes of pleasure—but the rhythm of his thrusts starts to strangle something inside me. Like his once did. Like Karim’s.
But the kisses... they’re still Advik’s. Still soft. Still mine.
And now I’m caught in a battle I never prepared for.
The war between my ghosts and my salvation.
Two worlds that were never meant to bleed into each other—are finally doing just that. I don’t know how to hold both.
I’m here.
I’m with Advik.
The chant rises again in my mind. But not quickly enough to hide the way I’ve stiffened.
He pauses. Hovering. Staring down at me with a kind of terror I can’t quite understand.
“It’s me,” he whispers with a trembling smile—like he knows I need the reminder more than air.
“It’s me,” he repeats, gently resuming his rhythm.
And I smile too.
Because this—this is what I think I needed. Not to forget Karim. But to take him out of my body. To carve him out of the places he buried himself. To reclaim every inch.
Advik doesn’t kiss me again. He just stares—like I’m unreal beneath him. Like I’m a miracle he never thought he’d hold.
And I stare back.
Because somehow... I believe it too.
And for the first time in years, I let someone love me through the shaking. Through the memory. Through the fight.