My time is up? For what? The ambiguity is suffocating, but that’s the point. Torture of the mind hurts more than torture of the body because it never ends.
I exhale sharply and blow out the candle, watching the wax go from translucent to opaque. Only when the threatening words are no longer visible do I move. The scent of magnolia lingers, oppressive and cloying, wrapping around me as I head for the door.
If Ghost wants to talk, then let’s fucking do it.
As the guard escorts me to the interrogation room, my pulse quickens with every step. I can’t understand Ghost’s mind enough to predict his behavior, which means…
I can’t defend myself against him.
Admitting that, even if it’s only to myself, is debilitating. But it’s too late to turn back now. Ghost won’t let me.
The guard gestures for me to enter once we reach the door. I hesitate, my hand hovering over the handle for a fraction of a second before I push it open. The moment I step inside, I feel it: his presence.
Ghost is on his feet.
It’s jarring, seeing him like that, tall and imposing on the other side of the glass. His posture is relaxed but commanding, one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his prison-issued pants, the other resting on his abdomen. He cocks his head as he watches me enter, his expression unreadable but his eyes alive with that sharp, predatory gleam I’ve been on the other end of more times than I can count.
I stop short, my pulse hammering against my ribs as I take him in. His gaze locks onto mine. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, but the sheer intensity of him fills the space, making it smaller.
I force myself to take another step, then another, until I’m standing at my side of the glass. The chair in front of me feels like a barrier and a trap all at once. I grip the back of it to hide my nerves.
“Dr. Andrews,” Ghost says, his voice low and smooth, like velvet dragged over a blade. The sound of it makes my skin prickle with sexual awareness, and I hate how my body reacts. How it betrays me.
I remain standing, mirroring his stance to keep us on the same level. “You broke into my house.”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t so much as blink. Instead, his lips curl into an impish smile. “And?” he replies, his voice dripping with amusement. “Did you like my present?”
“No.”
His chuckle is low and dangerous, reverberating in the enclosed space. “The magnolia. The note. Even the message hidden under the wax. All deliberate. Tell me, how long did it take you to figure it out?”
“Some parts were more obvious than others.”
He nods. “The acrostic was rather easy.”
“M. I. N. E. Magnolias bloom, masking death’s decay. Illuminating the shadows, where I wait. Never let the flame that binds us fade. Every breath you take is mine to claim.” I roll my eyes. “So romantic.”
“I thought so,” he says with a grin. “Tell me what else you discovered.”
“Magnolia trees were often planted in cemeteries to cover the stench of death. You chose that scent to reference my parents being dead and buried. The ‘shadows where you wait’ is more literal. Case in point, you broke into my apartment. Shadows can also represent the darkness that covers your mind. As for the flame that binds?” I purse my lips in thought. “You believe we share a connection that you consistently refer to as the fire inside me.”
He leans forward. “And lastly?”
“My breath is yours to claim… That line makes it sound as if you want all of me, from the inessential to the vital.”
“Very good, Dr. Andrews. A-plus.”
“Now what?”
He quirks a brow. “Hmm?”
“You said I’m out of time. What the fuck do you want from me, Ghost?”
He gives me a wicked smile. “What do I want from you?” He shakes his head slowly, the motion controlled, his gaze never leaving mine. “I think you know the answer to that, Dr. Andrews. I’ve told you before.”
I tighten my grip on the back of the chair. “No, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
He takes a step closer, bringing his face within inches of the glass. The air around him is charged, like a storm about to break. His eyes are bright, the hazel molten gold.
“I want you.”
The words spark something, igniting a heat that rushes through me. I suck in a breath, unable to tear my gaze away from him.
Ghost smiles, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light. “I want all of you. Everything.”
“Forget it.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there for a moment before rising again to meet mine. “I’m going to give you a choice.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“Give me your sanity or your desire.”
CHAPTER 29
GENEVA
My blood races through my veins. “What does that mean?”
Ghost reaches up and drags his fingers along the glass with his gaze locked on mine. The gesture is slow, his fingertips moving in a gentle caress right where my face is.
“Sanity or desire,” he repeats, his voice like a whisper against my skin. “One keeps you safe, the other sets you free. Your sanity is the wall you hide behind, the rules and protocols that you think will protect you from me. But we both know that’s not going to work.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Your desire, though? That’s raw. Unfiltered. It’s the part of you you’re too afraid to acknowledge.” His voice softens. “Letting me in will set you free. But keeping me out? That’s madness.”
I stay silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response, but his words slice into me like a scalpel. Is he right about me? Or is this just another manipulation tactic meant to confuse me further?
“What happens when your sanity unravels from the strain of resisting me, Dr. Andrews?”
“You’re delusional.” My voice trembles despite my best efforts to steady it. “This isn’t about sanity or desire. It’s about control.”
Ghost’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. “Control, yes. But not in the way you think. This isn’t about me taking control of you. It’s about you giving it to me. Willingly.”
I shake my head. “You’re trying to manipulate me. Twisting my thoughts and my emotions until I can’t see reason.”
“Am I?” His tone is soft but laced with challenge. “Is that why you’re here?”
“I’m here because I have to be,” I snap. “Because you forced my hand. Not because I want to be.”
“You’ve said your piece, so why haven’t you left yet?”
I don’t know.
The charged silence between us grows like a weed, strangling the life from me. I stand there, staring at my adversary until I think I’ll go crazy from just looking at him. If I give Ghost my desire, I’m insane. If I fall into insanity, that’ll lead to my desire.
Ghost knows he’ll have both, no matter what I choose. So is it really a choice to begin with? No. This man only plays games he knows he can win.
And the prize is me.
A distant rumble sneaks through the thick prison walls, breaking into my thoughts. It’s faint at first, like a low hum, but quickly grows louder. It’s a discordant symphony of shouts, metal clanging against metal, and the unmistakable edge of chaos.
Ghost’s fingers pause on the glass, his gaze flicking to the door behind me for a split second. His expression morphs, the smugness melting into sobriety.