Ghosts and Hunter Boys (Misfit Academy Book 2)

by A. Vers

  My teeth dug into my lip hard enough I was surprised blood did not flow down my chin. To be so close to him ... Did I dare?

  Easing over, I curled along his side, shifting my head until it fit on his shoulder and his warmth permeated my front. Each thud of his heart was loud in my ears. But he raised his other hand and stroked down my bare arm. Once, twice. My eyelids lowered of their own volition. The calloused whisper of his palm soothed me. It took his human warmth and made it comforting. The desire remained, but it was tempered, almost lazy with my fatigue.

  “Sleep.” His command already seemed far away. Distant.

  I nuzzled my face over the velvet smoothness of his shoulder. Though his heart sped in my ears, he continued his idle petting of my arm and sleep washed over me in a tidal wave.

  The night was so dark, Ryder was an inky blur next to me. I waited for his touch, but his breathing was slow, even.

  If he slumbered, what awoke me?

  I lifted up onto my elbow and peered around the gloomy room. A broad shouldered shape stood in the doorway. I froze, expecting a masculine voice, but the shadows dispersed into dark mist, leaving the doorway clear once more.

  I blinked. Then blinked again. The space was still open.

  Had I imagined the ominous figure?

  Peering down at Ryder, I climbed from the bed and walked to the door.

  The hall was dark, but not as dark as the room. Softly swirling gray mist shimmered near the door. It writhed several feet above the ground as though buffeted by a gentle breeze. And I knew what it was instantly.

  The spirit.

  I backed up.

  It pulsed in place, then came back toward me. The misshapen orb did not come too close, just swayed lightly several feet away. I expected it to dive at my head. To perhaps take me over as it had before. But it did none of those things. It wove back toward the front door, hovered for several beats, and then came back to me.

  “What?” I asked in a low voice. It shimmered, then repeated its strange dart to the door and back. My eyes widened. “Oh.”

  It wanted me to follow.

  Fingers tightening on the door jamb, I took a step forward and it seemed to grow brighter, less gray and more dirty white.

  “Morgan?” Ryder’s voice was languid with sleep. I peered over my shoulder to find him rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair was unkempt and the motion made him look like a sleepy little boy and not the fierce grown male I knew.

  “The spirit,” I began. But did not get farther as his eyes sprung wide.

  He clamored from the mattress. “What? Where?”

  I turned and took in the still hovering mist and pointed. “There.”

  His heat blanketed my back and silence echoed. “Son of a bitch.” He pressed tighter against my spine. “What is it doing?”

  “I think it wants me to follow it,” I said.

  Ryder stiffened. “No.”

  “Ryder—”

  He gripped my arms and turned me. “Not only no, but hell no, Morgan. That spirit possessed you and led you out into a graveyard, or have you forgotten that part?”

  I shrugged from his grasp. “Not forgotten, no. But maybe it needs our help. Maybe that is why it drew me away. It didn’t hurt me. Didn’t hurt you.”

  Though he looked like he wanted to argue that, he merely ground his teeth loud enough that the grate made me flinch.

  “You can follow me,” I tried as he remained silent. “If it tries to possess me, you can wake me back up. You did it before.”

  “By feeding you.”

  My mouth pooled saliva. “Or maybe throw water on me.”

  His dark hazel eyes scanned me from head to toe and something wanton unfurled in my stomach. I wanted to close the door on the spirit and push him back onto the bed.

  “Fine, but the first sign of trouble and we’re out of there, understand?”

  I gripped his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Deal.”

  His sigh was heavy as I rocked back down. He wound our hands together and we trailed the spirit down the hall.

  It slunk right into the old main room of the house and disappeared through the narrow crack in the still open doorjamb from earlier.

  “Of course it wants us to go into the creepy doorway,” Ryder muttered.

  I nudged him, but we kept walking. He tugged open the panel on a dark stairwell leading up into what had to be the attic part of the house. Cold air rolled down the steps, making me shiver.

  “Well,” Ryder said, taking in the way up. “We need a flashlight.”

  Chapter 12

  Ryder

  I shone the flashlight up the stairs and the bright beam cut through dust mites and more spiderwebs than any one abandoned house should have.

  Morgan kept her hand tight around my arm as we slowly ascended the stairs. I went first on the spoken logic that if the stairs caved, she was naturally faster and strong enough to get me out of the way. And if they held under me, I knew they would hold her lithe weight.

  In reality, I refused to let the girl go first. Especially Morgan.

  Was it sexist? Maybe. But I wanted to protect her. From everything I could.

  Ghosts included.

  The twang of mildew grew stronger with every creaking step upward we took. But there was no sign of the spirit now. Nothing but the dimness that the flashlight beam cut through like a knife.

  We crested the riser and peered around at the stained and blackened boxes. A dark puddle stood feet away, and crisp night air billowed in from a broken place in the roof.

  “What is this place?” Morgan asked.

  “Storage from the looks of it,” I told her, sweeping the light over an old rusted bed frame, several broken shelves, an old trunk, a handful of dolls that looked like they had not seen the light of day in over a hundred years.

  Not that I had that much experience with them.

  Carefully skirting the weak place in the floor, we moved deeper into the pitched room. The farther we went, the more junk there was. Boxes of old newspapers sat closest. The top one was so faded and brittle that I didn’t dare to touch it. But the mildewed date was still easily recognizable.

  September 27, 1944.

  I racked my brain for any events that occurred around that time and came up with squat.

  “Ryder.”

  I turned and found Morgan ducking under a low beam that had fallen in. “Morgan,” I said, rushing after her. “We don’t know how sturdy the floor is.”

  “But look.” She slipped to the side and I raised the flashlight.

  A twin bed, one still covered in an off-white bedspread, sat under the only window. The whole frame was rough cut wood, wood that should have decayed by now judging by how old the bed looked.

  On the pillow rested a single doll, the previously blonde hair streaked through with mold and the little dress it wore covered in the same.

  “Do you think a child lived up here?”

  Considering the age of the house?

  “Maybe,” I admitted. “This could have been a nursery. The staircase might have been a nanny entrance.”

  Morgan’s expression was soft, sad as she turned to me. “You don’t think ...” She trailed off, but I didn’t need her to finish.

  “Maybe,” was all I could say.

  Child spirits were rare. That much I knew. They were too pure. To raw. And anytime one was stuck on the earthen plain, it was because they suffered greatly in life.

  I didn’t tell her that, though. I couldn’t.

  “Can we ...” She gripped her hands together. “Can we help them?”

  My lips tightened. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.” Her focus was strong on the side of my face. “I was a hunter, Mor. We killed. And we didn’t help their spirits cross over afterward.”

  She didn’t wince. Or grimace. Her nod was contemplative, slow.

  I leaned into her and whispered, “I would if I knew how.”

  Her eyes rose to mine and stayed there. “I know.” And th
e way she said it made me believe she really did.

  For whatever reason, when she looked at me, she didn’t react like she saw a hunter. She reacted like she saw me.

  Just me.

  Ryder.

  I would never be able to forgive myself or my father for the things I did before meeting her. But when Morgan looked at me like that, I could almost let myself pretend. Pretend that I was normal. Just a regular human falling for a vampire.

  My heart skipped a beat and I stared at her.

  I was ... falling for her.

  Heat bloomed inside me until my face scalded so hot I was sure I had to be putting off waves of warmth.

  What? When?

  How?

  I scoured her upturned face and felt like the floor beneath me gave way, pitching me into the darkness, and the only light was the soft lilac glow of Morgan’s eyes.

  I backed up and then stepped back again.

  She frowned. “Ryder?”

  “We should head down,” I said, turning away. I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see that stare and not wonder what the hell I was thinking. “We don’t know how stable everything is up here. Besides, it’s late. We need to get some sleep. We can explore more in the daylight.”

  She made no sound, and I took her silence as agreement as I navigated my way back to the stairs. I walked down and immediately started for the kitchen. I needed air. Fresh air.

  The sheet we had hung the night before flapped in the breeze as I opened the panel and stepped out onto the porch.

  “Ryder?” Morgan called.

  But I didn’t slow. I went down the stairs and moved around the Jeep. There was no way to hide from a vampire. She would be able to hear my heartbeat. The wild, near crazed thump inside my chest as my limbs tingled.

  “Ryder? What’s wrong?” Her steps were soft and barely audible to my human hearing, but I knew Morgan. Knew her stubbornness rivaled mine. Then she was around the Jeep, standing before me as the moonlight highlighted her raven hair. It found the delicate curve of her bare shoulder. The sheen of her silk pajamas.

  I dropped the flashlight and it rolled away, lighting up the barn as I walked to her. My hands cupped her cheeks and I told myself to slow. To be gentle.

  But my head dropped and I had to taste her lips. To feel them under my own.

  She made a sound that was part surprise, part moan, and all Morgan. I slid one hand down her back and she arched up onto the tips of her toes as the night faded with her kiss.

  Every place that her lithe frame touched mine seemed to spark with electricity. Heat. Desire. I spun her and lifted her onto the hood of the Jeep. She locked her legs around my waist, fitting me tight into the scalding cradle of her hips. My mind reeled and I knew I needed to pull away. To put distance between us.

  We shouldn’t do this here. Not here.

  Not ...

  She broke away and kissed along my jaw, her touch tentative and so damn silken my knees weakened and I had to plant my hands on the hood of the Jeep to keep from falling. Her little nose skimmed the shell of my ear. I slipped my hand under her top, finally caressing the bare skin of her supple back. She bent further against me and I rocked without thinking, meeting her press.

  A husky gasp left her and her head fell back. All her dark hair cascaded around her and I palmed the base of her head as my lips moved along the porcelain column of her throat. I licked her skin, tasting Morgan. A scintillating sweetness that bordered on exotic.

  My hand found her thigh and I slid my hand down the full curve, bringing her against me as I ground my hips into her body. She gasped again. The sound drove through my gut and straight into my groin. I nipped at the juncture between her neck and shoulder before swirling the ache away with my tongue. She writhed in my arms, her own hands rubbing up and down my biceps. Over my back. Down to my hips to force us closer.

  My traitorous mind shifted to the box of condoms in the glove box.

  “Morgan.”

  She found my neck in turn, practically climbing my front. I shivered and cinched my arms tighter around her, meaning to lift her and carry her inside. A small rumble spilled from her and I started to pull back.

  Her fingers locked in my hair and she wrenched my head to the side before striking deep with her fangs.

  At first there was nothing. No pain, no pleasure. Just shock.

  Then the ache began.

  It started low in my gut like being rubbed in the same spot over and over until your skin is sensitive to the point of pain. I curled inward, meaning to move away before the sensation indeed grew painful.

  And then she sucked.

  My legs gave out as a wave of fire boiled through my veins. With every pull of her little mouth, I felt my heart speed, working faster and faster to supply her with what she was taking. She rocked her hips, moving against me. My body stirred again, feeling that arc of pleasure and locking on the familiar sensation until the lava in my veins turned to a languid heat. It washed over me like a drug, fogging the world with pleasure instead of pain.

  I sagged in her hold, my arms shaking.

  Part of me didn’t want it to end, the other was screaming that a vampire was eating me. I couldn’t think through the jumble, the haze of her bite.

  She pulled back with a small gasp. “Ryder?”

  I tried to roll my head. To look at her. But it was too much effort. My head was too heavy to stay upright.

  “You ... drank ... from me ...” I managed to gasp.

  Morgan’s hands found my face, holding me up so I could see her. “Ryder. I’m sorry, so sorry.” She scoured my expression. Whatever she saw, she didn’t like. Her features blanked and she let me go. I fell onto the grass and the world swam. “I didn’t ... I’m sorry.” Her words filtered through the static.

  “Morgan—”

  “I’m sorry, Ryder.” She turned on her heel and ran.

  I tried to climb to my feet, but my body was sluggish. I managed a pathetic flop in the grass. “Morgan. Wait.” My yell came out in a hoarse croak. “Mor—” I coughed and the sky and the trees tilted. One minute they were both in my line of sight, the next all I saw was the dark night and the merry twinkle of stars.

  Then I saw nothing at all as the night swooped down and swallowed me whole.

  Chapter 13

  Morgan

  Branches slapped at my skin as I slammed to a stop just outside the small graveyard near the house. Little burning welts rose on my flesh. And I felt each sting like a brand.

  Ryder’s blood flavored my tongue in a tangible burst of humanity that I would never possess. I could barely breathe without smelling him still. Without feeling his strength, the calloused glide of his hands.

  Blood and desire filled my stomach with heat. The vitality in the combination made my limbs tremble with the need to keep running. Or to turn around and beg his forgiveness for taking what was not offered.

  He would be so angry. And he had every right to be.

  I took his blood. With a donor, that was paramount to rape. Blood had to be freely given, or we were no better than the monsters humans still believed us to be.

  By taking Ryder’s blood as I had, I was as evil as my parents. Because I had not wanted to stop. I had wanted to feast until my stomach sloshed with his life force. Until his heat was mine.

  I groaned and dropped into a crouch, pressing my hands into my hair until I could fist the strands. An ache built in my temples and in my scalp.

  The night was alive around me. The skitter of bugs, the scurrying of small game ... Each rustle of leaves set my heart pounding, racing and racing until dizziness washed over me.

  A branch snapped several feet away, and through the heightened haze that was Ryder’s blood, several heartbeats sounded beyond my own.

  I looked up and went still.

  Shadowy shapes materialized in the surrounding darkness, their faces half hidden in shadow. “All alone?” The voice made gooseflesh raise all along my body. From out of the dimness, the male hunter st
epped forward, pulling down the wrap that had been covering the lower half of his face. “Where’s your human friend?”

  I clamped my mouth closed so hard my teeth clicked.

  He frowned. “Did you drain him, girl?”

  Guns raised all around me, the black barrels pointed at my face. Icy fear washed over me.

  “No,” I gasped.

  “Her lips are stained with blood,” came another familiar voice from the hunters. The female from the graveyard.

  “I know,” said the male hunter. He took a step closer, hand raised for them to hold. “Where is he, girl?”

  My eyes darted. “I didn’t mean to,” I stammered. “Please. I didn’t mean to.”

  His face pinched with consternation. “Your kind never does.” He rose and motioned.

  Strong hands grabbed me, hauling me to my feet. I cried out. The touch wasn’t bruising, wasn’t painful, but the memory of being forced into a coffin weeks ago rose unbidden from the depths of my mind.

  I wouldn’t be taken, not again.

  Turning, I lunged, gnashing my teeth as panic flared with startling clarity through me. The world cleared and I pulled inward on my arms.

  With Ryder’s blood in my system—even without my transition—I was stronger than humans. The hunters collided with each other before me. But I didn’t give them time to grab me again, I fled through the trees.

  My feet barely touched the earthen floor, and every step was so light, there would be no prints for them to follow. I navigated my way by instinct, scenting out the residual fragrance of Ryder’s blood on the air.

  I slid into the grass outside the house, and my heart fractured to find Ryder collapsed in the grass. Diving to his side, I scrambled to press two fingers to his neck. The beat of his pulse was rapid, but solid beneath my fingertips.

  Thank the gods.

  “Ryder,” I hissed, patting his face as hard as I dared. “Ryder.”

  He groaned and his lids fluttered open. “Morgan? What—”

  “The hunters are here. We have to go.”

  His eyes widened and the hazel hue was fever bright in the dark. “Help me up.” I gripped one of his arms and heaved him to his feet. He swayed a bit. “Shit. I can’t drive like this.”