Shackled to the World: A Phantom Touched Novel

by Brutger, Stacey

  Feeling a blush crawling up the back of his neck, he ducked his head. “I was just going to get a pillow.”

  “Okay.” The troubled expression melted off her face, and she flashed him a small smile bright enough to set-off shockwaves in his chest…because it was meant just for him.

  He blew out a heavy breath, only to turn and find Camden and Xander leaning against the wall just out of sight of Annora, both of them grinning like idiots. He scowled at them. “Laugh all you want, chuckleheads, but your nights will come soon enough. We’ll see how easy it is to keep your hands to yourself then.”

  He stomped away, their laughter following him, and he let his frustrations melt away.

  This was one of the few times they’d laughed since Logan was taken. While it might be at his expense, he could take it. Annora gave them hope when she burst into their lives, and he’d be damned if he’d let anything ruin that.

  Even with all the danger—or maybe because of it—the guys were finally coming together as a team after years of working together, and it was thanks to her. As he gathered his pillow and blankets and left his room, he sighed, relieved to find his teammates gone and the hall empty.

  He placed his foot on the bottom step, then closed his eyes for a second and prayed to the gods that he would be able to keep his vow not to take advantage of her. While Annora was outside, they decided she shouldn’t be alone, especially at night…but only to sleep.

  She was off limits.

  Unless she seduced them.

  His cock twitched to life, and he cursed the stray thought that slipped past his control. As he climbed the stairs to her room, he recited the flora and fauna of North America.

  In alphabetical order.

  In Latin.

  And as much as he dreaded this night, he was the first to volunteer, eager to spend more time with her. Time he planned to use to convince her that she was madly in love with him, before he allowed himself to lay a hand on her.

  He nearly groaned when he finally stepped into her room to see her wearing an itty-bitty tank top and shorts that made her legs go on forever. He dragged his eyes away from her, afraid he’d turn into a drooling idiot, only to have his eyes land on her tiny bed.

  He swallowed hard, calling himself all types of a fool for believing he’d be able to keep from touching her in that postage-stamp size queen bed, and nearly strangled while swallowing his tortured groan.

  * * *

  Annora looked at Mason’s dismayed face, then at the bed, and wanted to smack herself for not thinking of his comfort sooner. No way was his massive frame going to be able to fit. The ferret grabbed her pillow, then loped across the mattress, dragging his prize onto the floor. She rushed toward the bed, quickly following suit and ripping off the blankets. She dropped them haphazardly next to the pillow, trying to spread them out, feeling flustered for not thinking about it sooner. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. We can sleep on the floor.”

  At Mason’s strangled laugh, she glanced back, only to find him watching her with his mouth hanging open. She chuckled and sat back, realizing she must look like she was playing some demented game of Twister.

  He clutched his pillow and blanket to his chest, and damned if the pillow wasn’t taller than her. Shaking her head at her foolish thoughts, she grabbed her pillow from the ferret and tossed it at Mason, smacking him right in the face. “Get down here and help.”

  With a chuckle, he dropped down next to her, and they had the bed sorted in five minutes. As she flipped off the lights, she glimpsed the ferret curled up in the center of the bed, the sheets a little nest around him, completely content to have the place to himself.

  As she walked toward her makeshift bed on the floor, she saw Mason’s bright lavender eyes following her every move. They practically glowed in the dark while he watched her like a predator ready to pounce.

  As she settled, pulled back the covers, and crawled underneath, he seemed to relax, and she shook her head at her foolish thoughts. She wiggled her feet, seeking to stick them out of the bottom of the blankets. Only she couldn’t. She glanced down to see what was the problem, then huffed on silent laughter.

  His blankets were massive.

  While she drowned in them on her side, they barely reached his chin and covered his feet. Giving up her struggle, unable to sleep, she shifted, but couldn’t stand the awkward silence a moment longer, and blurted out the first thought that popped into her head. “What size are these?”

  “California King.” He reached up and laced his fingers behind his head, placing his massive arms on display. His tattoos rippled as his muscles flexed, and she couldn’t help her curiosity, too hyped up by his nearness to sleep.

  She hesitantly reached out and traced one of the bold lines that swirled down from his shoulder and peeked out of his shirtsleeve. “What do your tattoos mean?”

  “Why do you think they mean anything?” His deep voice was a low rumble, the playful amusement in them relaxing her.

  She didn’t know how to explain what she felt when she gazed at his tattoos. “I don’t know. Something about them reminds me of you.”

  “You’re right.” To make her feel more at ease, he looked up through the skylight, allowing her to look her fill of him. “Trolls grow into their powers as they age. The darker the lines, the more tattoos, the stronger the troll.”

  “Really?” Annora squinted at the tattoos partially hidden by his shirt, trying to make them out in the dark room. “How do you get them? Are you born with them? Or are they spelled?”

  The only magic she sensed was from him alone. His pink hair was shadowed in the darkness, but she could see it swaying hypnotically, as if content, dancing to a song only it could hear. His scent of fresh pine and copper reminded her of the outdoors. After spending years trapped underground, she found it soothing.

  “They’re unique to each tribe and each troll.” His gaze flickered toward hers, then resumed observing the sky. “We’re not born with them, nor are they spelled. It’s something in our blood. Our tattoos form at puberty, revealing and dictating our placement and standing in the tribe.”

  Something about the total lack of inflection in his voice made her stomach lurch. “But?”

  He glanced down at her in confusion, completely unaware that he’d given himself away. “What?”

  She propped herself on her elbow. “But your tribe doesn’t think your tattoos count, do they?”

  When his gaze flickered away and he shrugged, she decided she very much wanted to meet his family, just so she could give them a piece of her mind…and maybe give them a little peek into what hell would look like if they didn’t start treating him right.

  She cupped his face, waiting for him to look at her. His forehead was large, his face broad, his features exaggerated, he had a ridge of horns around the top of his head, and when he was riled, his upper and lower fangs were massive, protruding slightly out of his mouth.

  And she wouldn’t change anything about him.

  He was a fierce warrior and defender, but he was more.

  He was her friend and protector.

  As he gazed up at her with his lavender eyes, she knew she couldn’t have picked a better man to watch over her while she slept. “Your tribe is full of idiots. While your tattoos are stunning, they only make up a small portion of what I like about you. I’m glad they tossed you away, or I might never have been lucky enough to meet you, and that would’ve been a shame.”

  Annora gave his cheek a light pat. “I must warn you, though—if I ever meet any of them, I might take their fangs and horns and wear them as jewelry.”

  He blinked at her blankly for a moment, then full-out grinned. “Oh, they’re gonna love you.”

  She just grunted and, resting her head against his shoulder, snuggled down for the night with a contented sigh. Mason went rigid for only a second before he wrapped his arm around her and gave a hum of contentment.

  Annora closed her eyes, then frowned, curiosity getting the best of
her. “How did you guys decide who would be staying with me tonight? Rock, paper, scissors? Or did you have to resort to picking straws?”

  There was a beat of silence before he spoke. “Actually, we picked by choosing who needed you most.”

  Her eyes snapped open, and she was completely awake now. She opened her mouth, then silently closed it, not sure how to respond. She didn’t sense that he meant it in any physical way. No, it was more than that. She worried that by being near them, being chosen as their pack grá, she was failing them in some way, too ignorant of what the role meant to know what she should be doing.

  His large hand came to rest across her back, nearly spanning her from shoulder to shoulder, pulling her out of her chaotic thoughts. “Hush and go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  Instead of feeling confined, she was reassured by his touch. She closed her eyes, sleep claiming her in minutes.

  When her eyes fluttered open, she was still in her room, but they were no longer alone. Logan was resting behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his fingers brushing back and forth along her stomach, just above the waistband of her shorts.

  It felt so real her heart hiccupped against her ribs, and she was afraid to close her eyes, afraid to blink and it would all vanish.

  “I’ve missed this,” Logan whispered, his breath ghosting along her neck, and she shivered. She blinked away the tears burning her eyes, swearing he was so real she could actually feel him.

  “How are you here?” Then her gut pitched wildly, and she swallowed hard. “You’re hurt bad, aren’t you? You’re—”

  “Still alive.” His arm tightened around her, and she felt him brush his lips along her shoulder. “But I’m not sure for how much longer.”

  “Just hold on for a little bit more.” She turned in his arms, studying his face. He looked like the same old Logan, but his eyes were shadowed and haunted, and dread tightened her guts.

  They were running out of time.

  He looked away, as if seeing something that she couldn’t, his form flickering. She reached for him, desperate to hold him to her, only to have her hand pass clear through him as if he were a figment of her imagination, and her heart broke a little.

  “Logan—”

  “Your uncle saw the way I healed the last time I…fell asleep.” His attention dropped back down to her. “This time, he’s making sure I don’t stay under more than ten minutes at a time before he wakes me.”

  He sugar-coated everything, but she knew her uncle and his methods. He would strap her down and connect electrodes to her, shocking her every ten minutes, wanting to test how long she could go without sleep.

  Wanting to see if that would make her more pliant.

  It nearly drove her fucking insane.

  Annora cupped his face, allowing the particles inside her to capture him and hold him to her, giving him all the strength she could. “We’re coming. Watch for Kevin. Trust him.”

  Before she even finished speaking, he dissolved under her touch, like wisps of smoke. No matter how hard she tried to hold him, he slipped through her fingers.

  “No!”

  Mason’s arms wrapped around her from behind, but the warmth of him barely penetrated the ice that filled her soul. “We’re running out of time.”

  Instead of comforting her, Mason tightened his hold, his head bowing under the weight of the truth. “I know.”

  His grim voice made her breath hiccup in her chest, but she was infinitely glad the guys were no longer denying it. Her mind whirled with plans for how she could locate him before it was too late, and only one thing came to mind.

  She would have to go into the afterworld to find where they were keeping him—even if it meant bringing her father down on her head.

  Chapter Twelve

  Annora was awake before dawn, unable to go back to sleep after Logan vanished. She went through her plans, determined to do what was necessary to rescue him.

  She just needed to find a way to get the guys on board without them flipping their lids.

  She carefully lifted Mason’s arm from around her waist, stifling her grunt when she discovered the damned thing nearly weighed as much as she did. When she didn’t make much progress, she shoved a pillow at his chest, then wiggled and twisted until she was free.

  Only to find the ferret sitting on his haunches, watching her with his head tipped in curiosity.

  She would swear he was laughing at her, the little bastard, and she resisted the urge to flick his nose. “You could’ve helped.”

  Honest to god, the little fucker shrugged.

  Panting like she just been in a wrestling match with a slab of cement, Annora smoothed her tangled hair back, but then froze when Mason shifted. He tightened his grip on her pillow, then pulled it close, burying his face in it as if trying to catch her scent. With a contented sigh, he relaxed and went back to sleep.

  Instead of leaving, Annora remained crouched next to him. Lines of sleep were pressed into his face, his hair tousled, his body relaxed. He looked different…unguarded.

  Vulnerable.

  Not the indestructible force he was when awake.

  Unable to help herself, she leaned over, brushing his hair away from his forehead. The strands swayed sleepily, curling around her before relaxing back into sleep. Mason sighed, a small smile playing about his face, and she carefully rose to her feet.

  With one last reluctant look, she collected her clothes and headed for the shower, quickly shutting the door in the ferret’s face, chuckling happily when he thumped into the wood.

  Payback’s a bitch.

  By the time she was finished, Mason and his bedding were gone and her own bed was neatly made. A pang went through her at the sight of the empty floor.

  She was already missing him, and she shook her head at her own foolishness.

  He was just down the stairs.

  He hadn’t left her.

  But then why did her room feel so empty without him?

  The ferret was resting near the stairs, waiting for her. When he saw her looking, he gave her a beckoning wave, as if to urge her to go faster, then bolted for the kitchen.

  Shoving her feet into her shoes, she tromped down the stairs after him, coming to a halt when she saw the guys were already assembled, Terrance included, the breakfast waiting. With Logan gone, meals weren’t the same. He was the resident cook, and while she was sure it was only her imagination, the food just didn’t taste the same without him.

  A glance out the window showed the sun just breaking across the horizon.

  Edgar was mysteriously absent, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was with Sadie. She didn’t begrudge him his friendship with the girl—okay, maybe she did just a little—she just didn’t trust the other phantom not to try and kidnap him.

  When she didn’t see him in the backyard where she met Sadie last night, she turned to survey the rest of the guys. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they’d been on guard duty all night, rotating shifts. She scowled and grabbed a piece of toast off a plate, taking a vicious bite before pointing it at them accusingly. “You could have come and gotten me. I could’ve taken a shift.”

  “That would’ve defeated the purpose of keeping you safe.” Xander spoke with a completely straight face, focused on dumping ingredients into a blender for one of his workout drinks that always looked like revolting green sludge.

  She stopped chewing for a beat, swallowing her mouthful of food before she choked on it. She wanted to argue with the guys, protest that she was part of the team, but the look in their eyes brooked no argument.

  No matter what she said, they wouldn’t budge.

  She sat at her place at the table, setting her half-eaten toast on her plate, the mound of food making her stomach churn. Glancing up, she saw the ferret was on the counter, manhandling his feeding dish again. As if sensing she was watching, he straightened and gave her a nod of encouragement.

  She lifted her chin, determined not to be swayed from he
r course. “I have a plan to get Logan tonight.”

  She waited for an explosion of protests, but the guys only nodded and took their seats.

  “Tell us.” Camden glanced up at her as he took a bite of food, completely calm, as if he’d expected her announcement.

  She squinted at Mason, wondering if he’d suspected and told the others, but he appeared just as curious as the others. “You’re not surprised?”

  All of them looked up from their food. It was Xander who answered. “Of course not. We’re actually surprised you told us about it first.”

  She stifled her huff of annoyance, because she had to admit the thought had crossed her mind. The tension melted out of her spine, and she slumped in her seat. She didn’t like putting them in danger, but if she wanted to get Logan back, she needed their help.

  “The only way for us to locate him in time is to enter the afterworld.” Annora waited for them to explode and tell her it was too risky.

  “Your phantom isn’t going to like it,” Camden warned, completely unfazed by her announcement.

  She narrowed her eyes, studying each one in turn. “How did you know what I was going to say?” She didn’t wait for them to speak because the answer struck her immediately. “You came to the same conclusion.”

  She shoved away from the table, glowering at them. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner instead of letting me waste all this time?”

  It was Mason who spoke, “It had to be your decision.”

  Their absolute calm irritated the snot out of her, and she turned to glare at Mason, feeling her hackles rise at his betrayal. “So this was the real reason you guys decided I need a babysitter at night…so I wouldn’t sneak off on my own? Maybe the real reason why you were patrolling the house?”

  Without missing a beat, Mason shook his head. “Actually, that factored very little into it. You’re foolish, not stupid. The best way to get Logan back is if we work together. We knew you’d never put him in danger that way.”

  She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, not sure she was completely appeased by his answer, but didn’t want to dig into it any further. “And when my father and his minions arrive? What then?”