Chapter 9
Kaze
Shit.
This couldn’t have gone worse.
I tried to call her, I confess. Ever since I saw her sister leaving with the damn cat, I felt a pressure in my chest, a heart I no longer have beating uncontrollably in my throat.
I tried every way I could think of to approach her carefully, not to frighten her. I knew this would be a delicate moment, but I think I took longer than I should have.
She decided to put on her headphones and started singing, or screaming. Probably convinced she was hitting notes that weren’t even in this dimension.
Singing is definitely not one of her talents. But who am I to judge?
With the headphones clamped over her ears, she didn’t hear me calling her. I had no choice but to approach, my steps as light as possible, trying not to be too obvious. Perhaps it was impossible to do this smoothly.
Now we’re in her room, a place I’ve been and watched from the outside for days. However, this is different because now she is unconscious.
Fuck my life, or death.
She’s stone cold.
I try to call her name, to touch her arm to rouse her, but of course, she doesn’t feel me.
So I wait.
Being here, in her space, in this situation is… overwhelming. The room smells of sage, erasing the stench of alcohol that clings to me.
Small miracles, right? At least I won’t smell like a walking bar. Wait, would she even be able to smell me?
Focus, Kaze. Focus, you fucking moron.
The minutes stretch into eternity, but then she stirs, her moans soft and disorienting. I was nervous before, but now? Now I’m terrified, because what if she passes out again?
I move closer, unable to help myself. This is the first time I’ve been this near.
Her purple-tipped black hair is tied up in a messy bun, loose strands framing her face like a halo.
Her eyes, large, almond-shaped, and endlessly expressive, are closed.
Her body, a masterpiece of curves and softness, lies sprawled on the floor.
Her full breasts rise and fall with each labored breath, her slightly soft stomach peeking from under her crop top, and her wide hips giving way to strong, thick thighs exposed by the short pajama shorts hugging her.
Beads of sweat slide along her ribs and pool against the floor beneath her, tracing the curves of her body as they follow gravity. The rhythm of her breathing, uneven and hypnotic, is enough to send my mind spiraling.
She is a vision, lying here like this.
An inexplicable attraction pulls at me, primal and consuming. I feel a dark and massive need to touch her, to run my fingers over her skin, to feel the pulse of life beneath her flesh.
Desire courses through me, fierce and relentless.
Fuck.
The idea of clasping her neck with my hands arises in a primitive impulse, not to hurt her, but to feel the life that flows inside her, the life that fascinates me so much and that somehow draws me closer.
She is like something I’ve lost and now desperately want to get back.
However, I manage to control myself and try to keep those thoughts at bay.
My hands clench at my sides, trembling with the effort to stay in control. This is wrong.
I’m already a stalker, no need to be a creep.
I tell myself that as I hover near her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips part in a soft sigh that shatters what little resolve I have left.
She’s everything I shouldn’t want. But right now, she’s all I wish I had.
And then,
“You… you’re dead.” Her voice slices through the silence.
I freeze. For a moment, time stretches thin, as if the universe itself is holding its breath.
Her wide brown eyes open slowly, locking onto me.
Her body goes still, like she’s waiting for the world to explain this ridiculous, impossible thing in front of her.
No one has spoken to me since… Since everything changed.
Since I stopped being whoever I was and became this restless echo of myself.
Until now.
“Yes,” I say, my voice reverberating faintly, charged with something I can’t quite name. “I…” I pause, inhaling instinctively, except it’s pointless. I don’t even breathe. “I… you see me.”
Her gaze sharpens. “I do…” she whispers, softer now, but there’s something underneath it. Suspicion? Fear? Or… hope?
She’s waiting for me to say something monumental, some kind of Hollywood-grade revelation that makes all of this make sense.
But, well… I’m not that guy.
“I’m… sorry,” I blurt out, the words awkward and tangled. “I didn’t mean to scare you or… anything like that.”
Great start, Kaze.
“But I need your help.” I add.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
Yeah, that went well.
“Sorry. Oh my god. Sorry. You don’t even know me.” I rub the back of my neck, feeling like an absolute idiot. “Well… I’m Kaze.”
She blinks. “Kaze…”
“Yes. Kaze. And as you can see, I’m… dead. So, I need your help.”
Silence.
Something shifts in her expression, something heavy.
Her lip trembles, her wide eyes filling with unshed tears.
And fuck.
That, that does something to me.
“Shit, love. Sorry. Please, don’t cry.” I panic, lifting my hands like that’ll somehow fix it. “I… ”
Her voice is barely a breath.
“You died…”
A lump forms in my throat, not that I even have a damn throat to feel it in.
“Yeah, yeah. I did. But don’t worry, I’m okay. See?” And, because I am an idiot, I wave my arms around like I’m doing some half-assed something performance to proof I’m fine. Am I? I don’t even know. But she doesn’t need to know that.
She doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile.
And fuck, that sadness in her eyes, it guts me.
“Don’t be sad because of me,” I say, softer now. “I’m… fine.” But even as I say it, I can feel the lie in my own words.
She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that feels like it’s dragging my non-existent heartbeat along with it. The tension in the air doesn’t budge.
“Do you know me?” she asks, swallowing her tears and her tone sharp and expectant. My heart (or whatever’s left of it) skips a beat. Do I? I feel like I do. Every fiber of my being screams for me to say yes. But I bite my tongue. Complicating this further would be a disaster.
“I don’t know,” I say cautiously.
Her expression shifts instantly to disbelief. “What do you mean you don’t know?” Her voice pitches higher, incredulous. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“What?” I counter, feeling my own frustration bubble up. “Do you know me?” It can’t be… right? That would be too easy, too… good to be true. But I can’t help the sliver of hope sneaking into my voice.
Her face freezes for a moment, then her expression twists. She jumps to her feet, storming past me to the bed without even answering. She’s avoiding my question. Great.
“This is a first for me,” she mutters, folding her arms as if that’s going to shield her from whatever this situation is. There’s an edge to her words, but I catch the hint of vulnerability beneath it.
It clicks then.
She’s never seen a ghost before. The thought brings a wry smile to my lips despite myself.
“I think it’s a first for me too,” I admit, letting out a small laugh. Her head snaps toward me, and the glare she shoots could kill me.
Again.
Got it.
No laughing.
Noted.
She takes a deep breath. Once. Twice. Three times. It’s as if she’s pulling herself back together, slotting her courage back into place so she can go on with this conversation. No judgment here, if I saw a ghost, I’d probably piss myself.
“I’m Kaze,” I blurt out, cutting through her silence before she has the chance to bolt or yell or both. “Kazemiro, actually. But… I remember preferring Kaze. Don’t know why.” And then I remember I had already introduced myself before.
Stupid fucking asshole.
“What do you mean, you remember?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she leans forward slightly. Her skepticism is practically dripping from every word.
“That’s… part of what I was hoping you could help me figure out,” I confess, holding her gaze. Her eyes soften, but only a fraction. Enough to let me know she’s listening.
“So… what do you want from me?” she finally asks, her voice steady, though her arms are still crossed like a fortress around her chest.
The words hang in the air for a moment, heavier than I anticipated. But before I lose the courage I barely scraped together, I tell her everything. Hoping for the best.
* * *
Khalee reacted well.
I mean, considering the situation, she reacted better than expected.
After telling her everything I could remember, which was not much, and explaining that I needed her help to find information about myself, so I could locate my body and move on, she seemed… conflicted.
She told me that working with spirits wasn’t exactly her area of expertise, but still, she offered to help.
Even though she looked a little lost. A little broken.
Maybe she needs time.
Scratch that. She definitely needs time.
“If the universe has put you in my path, there must be something I can do,” she said.
Sad. But determined.
I had to resist the urge to laugh. Not in a mean way, but more in the kind of laugh that says, “what the hell has my life after death even become?”
In another life — I mean, in life — I really would have laughed.
If I weren’t a ghost now, I’d never believe this situation, even if someone paid me.
But here I am.
And here she is.
She explained that she had appointments to give via computer and that it wouldn’t be fair to cancel on her clients.
Professionalism. Got it.
So, she asked me to wait in another room, in the meantime, until she was finished, to maintain her clients’ privacy.
“Hmm… I’m not very comfortable with that,” I told her, trying to sound casual, even though the idea of waiting in another room made me feel like more of a ghostly inconvenience than I already was.
“It’s not an option, Kaze. I can’t have you here… It’s not correct,” she said firmly.
But there was something in her voice.
Not just about her clients.
Something personal.
Like she really needed space.
“What if your damn cat comes back? The beast will go berserk.”
That’s actually a concern.
I’m not sure the house will survive if that little demon sees me again.
“My damn cat’s name is Cosmos,” she snapped, rolling her eyes. “And he’s with my sister right now. I’ll sort it out.”
“Are you going to tell her? I mean… about me?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose like I was the most exhausting thing she’d encountered all week.
Shit. Maybe I’m asking too many questions.
“Sorry, sorry. You do you, and I’ll… go do me,” I blurted, starting to back out of the room awkwardly.
“I’ll give you some space. If you need me, just… scream.”
Fucking idiot.
What a thing to say.
“I mean, scream for me…” I added hastily, realizing exactly how that sounded.
Her eyebrows shot up and she shot me a look part-shocked, part-annoyed.
Great. Just great.
“Sorry, fuck. Just call me. I’ll be in the… socks closet,” I finished, flustered, before bolting out of the room.
Way to go, Kaze. Embarrass yourself completely and then commit to spending the afternoon in a place that smells like feet.
If this isn’t purgatory, I don’t know what the hell it is.
And just as I’m making my grand retreat,
“You were in the shoe closet before, weren’t you?” she snaps.
Oh. Shit.
“Well…”
Her eyes narrow.
“How long have you been haunting me?”
And… she’s pissed.
“A week?” I try, like maybe it won’t sound that bad.
She inhales sharply, nostrils flaring, and,
“Fuck my life. Get out of my room, for fuck’s sake, Kazemiro!”
And fuck, I burst out laughing while running from her.
Jesus Christ.
Bossy Khalee is something else, and I look forward to seeing more of her.