Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
brETT
Jane Evangeline: Entry #14
Something happened tonight. Something I can’t tell anyone, so I’m writing it here.
Hudson and I made love tonight.
Granted, he kept his mask on, and it kept smacking me in the forehead every time he thrust forward, but overall, it wasn’t terrible.
He even got me off at the end—though it took quite a bit of coaxing for some reason. I just couldn’t stop picturing Maverick’s face and hearing Maverick’s voice. Wishing Maverick was inside me.
And that is part of my shame. Because not only was I kicked out immediately after Hudson came, but I felt like I deserved it because I was thinking of another man .
I’m supposed to meet Maverick tomorrow for breakfast at his apartment, but I may call and cancel.
After all, one Mask making me feel like shit is more than enough.
For the next week, things are pretty quiet. I spend most days in bed, catching up on the hours of sleep I’ve missed over the years. When I’m not unconscious or choking down whichever nutritious meal Ghost cooks—then snacking on freezer food later with Orion—I spend my time in the library with Ghost, sitting silently and reading.
I’ve tried to bring up the Sanctum multiple times, but he always finds a way to change the subject—be it dragging me to the bedroom or calling Orion in to distract me—so I haven’t gotten any closer to my end goal. I am learning a lot, though. For example, I never realized the amount of violence a person could harbor until the other night when Ghost took a sledgehammer to the microwave oven. A sledgehammer.
At the time it happened, I was busy tonguing the side of my cheek that I burned from a hasty bite of a microwaved taquito and damn near bit my tongue off when the first hit rang out. By the time I could calm him down, the poor thing was beaten to a pulp, and Ghost was a heaving mess, screaming about stupid, hazardous inventions . Orion tried to tell me it was technically my fault—that Ghost went into a fit because I burned my mouth on something I heated in the microwave—but it was too preposterous to think about, so I just chalked it up to him being a lunatic.
Although, it’s not all bad. The caring side I’ve seen in Ghost this past week has softened me to him. Even if his actions are perplexing at times, I realize now that it’s always been in my best interest. And not just to me—to Venom, too. He’s been so kind to us both, and it makes no sense.
I’m trying to stay strong—to remember my mission, and the reason I started trying to get on Ghost’s good side. To gain intel and then to escape when he least expects it. It’s not like I can stay here forever. I’m playing house with a murderous lunatic, and the thought of throwing my life away to be his anything is too much to think about.
Although I will miss the orgasms. Desperately. And the snuggles. And breakfast in bed. And the orgasms. That is another thing I’ve allowed to happen too frequently. Ghost’s head between my legs is like a drug—one I can’t get enough of.
I’m brought out of my thoughts as a hint of aftershave makes its way to my nose, and I turn my head, catching sight of Ghost at the doorway to the balcony. I discovered the balcony a few days ago, and it’s been one of my favorite places to sit and think. It’s extremely calming listening to the waves crash against the rocks, knowing I’m too high for the elements to reach, to touch.
“When you weren’t in the library, I figured this is where you’d be,” Ghost murmurs, leaning effortlessly against the doorframe. “I worried when you weren’t in bed when I woke.”
I smile, gesturing for him to sit in the unoccupied patio chair next to me. He obliges, floating to the seat and reaching over, placing his hand on top of mine. I rub my thumb over the back of his ungloved wrist, my chest squeezing at the sounds my touch is able to elicit from the unyielding Phantom at my side.
“I will never get enough of this,” he announces, turning that black oval toward me. “I will never get enough of you, Brett.”
I blush, turning my eyes down to my lap and picking at my cuticle. “I know.” I know, and I feel the same way. But I can’t tell him that. I can never admit that if I have any chance of escaping in one piece. I’m worried I’ve given too much of my soul to him already, that the vise is wrapped too tightly around me to ever get away. I don’t even think I want to anymore.
“I would like to take you somewhere if that is okay.”
I whip my head up, wishing I could see the face behind that soulless black oval. “Where?”
Ghost stands, holding his hand out for me to take. “It’s better if I show you.”
I wrap my arms tighter around Ghost’s waist, tucking my face into the back of his jacket as the wind whips my exposed skin, sending chills across my body. We’ve been racing through the forest on Ghost’s motorcycle at speeds I never thought possible, crashing through the thicket and following trails that look like they haven’t seen a pair of tires in decades.
I’m thankful Ghost is such a skilled rider. If not, we surely would have crashed or fallen off the side of the cliff hidden by the dense underbrush. When we finally pull to a stop in a small circular clearing, it takes a bit of willpower to pull my arms from Ghost. He’s so warm, and where this place is situated, the breeze blows heavily from the sea, the cold salty air chilling me to the bone.
I dismount, curling my arms around me for extra warmth as Ghost turns the bike off and taking a moment to inspect my surroundings. We’re standing in a perfectly circular clearing, thick stands of eucalyptus lining the perimeter and hiding the area from view. The ground is carved into several smaller circles, placed around the clearing like the numbers on a clock, meaning there are twelve in total, with a small, untouched space in the center.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out what they would be used for, but by the way Ghost is staring out with his fist clenched, I know this place holds some form of value to him.
“What is this place?” I ask, catching sight of a dilapidated cabin hiding just beyond the tree line. It looks ancient, with a crumbling roof and rotted wood siding falling off in chunks. This whole place is suffocating, like something bad is in the air. Something horrible happened here.
The thought enters my mind so forcefully, I know it to be true. Something tragic occurred here— possibly more than one something—and from the way Ghost is standing, I’m positive it had something to do with him.
“Come, Brett,” he murmurs, gripping my wrist and pulling me toward the cabin. I follow dutifully, stopping only when he pauses to unlock the door. To my surprise, he holds his wrist to the door like he would in his house, and the lock clicks open. As soon as I step inside, a wave of mold and dust floods my senses, and I pull back to let out a sneeze.
Twelve bunk beds line the walls of the small room, some with old sleeping pads, others barren, the iron frame rusted and falling to pieces. Ghost steps over to the bunk in the far-right corner of the room—the one right next to a disgusting wash basin—and gestures to the bottom half.
“This is where I slept for most of my childhood. This is where I was raised.”
I look around at the crumbling foundation, a wave of sadness pouring over me as I imagine a young Ghost scared and alone in this strange, cold place. “Why are you showing me this?”
He hangs his head, his chest heaving erratically as he grips the iron frame of the bunk. “I don’t—I don’t really know. I think I wanted you to understand me. Where I came from. Why I do the things I do.” He looks toward the small, circular window, his shoulders slumping. “I never wanted to be this way. I never wanted—” He stops with a shaky intake of breath. “I never wanted to be evil. I thought—I thought maybe you would understand if you saw. If you knew.”
“Knew what?” I demand, throwing my hands up. “I don’t know anything. You won’t talk about the Sanctum or where you came from. When you do talk, it’s mixed with cryptic riddles I’ll never be able to figure out. You want me to understand? Fine. Tell me something real. ”
Ghost shakes his head, never looking away from that window. “I don’t—it is not so easy for me.”
“I realize that,” I whisper, taking a cautious step toward him. “But you’re going to have to. If you want me to understand you, then tell me what happened here; that’s so important. Tell me why you brought me here. Tell me something, dammit!”
Ghost goes still. For a moment, he’s so still I think he might have turned to stone. But then he speaks, and his voice is like nothing I’ve heard before. It’s raw, painful. Real.
“If you knew, you’d never look at me the same. You’d never—” Whatever he was going to say, I’ll never know. Ghost sighs, holding his masked face in his hands. “You want to know what they did to me? How they broke me—turned me into this… this soulless monster?” He raises his head, his shoulders tense. “Fine. But first, I’ll need to tell you about Brenden.”