Ghosts and Hunter Boys (Misfit Academy Book 2)

by A. Vers

  Then I would have to.

  I urged him to the passenger side of the car and shoved him into the seat. He collapsed, his breathing heavy and his tan skin pale. I raced around the front of the car and climbed behind the wheel.

  “Have you ... ever driven?” he asked, his head lolled so he could see me.

  I gripped the wheel in one hand and turned the key. “No,” I said as the great metal creation roared alive. “But I have been watching you.”

  Pressing one foot to the center pedal, I shifted the long arm over. We rocked forward and I eased off the pedal to press on the other. We jolted forward at break neck speed and I hurriedly removed my foot. Still, we moved and I pulled at the wheel to keep from hitting the house.

  “Turn,” Ryder croaked. “Left, left!”

  I wrenched the wheel left and the vehicle coasted around the house and into the flat front yard.

  “Foot on the gas,” he told me.

  Biting my lip, I applied light pressure this time and we sped up, sailing over the grass and out onto the road. Ryder pressed on the wheel with me, and we narrowly missed the old, crumbling mailbox before we sped off down the pavement into the dark.

  Every second that passed was agony. My fingers ached from gripping the wheel so tight, and Ryder’s breathing was still too shallow.

  But there was no sign of the hunters behind us as he directed me to pull off the road and into a dense section of trees.

  I put the car in park and killed the engine. My own breathing was labored in the quiet, and my heart was beating loud enough that Ryder could hear it. Human or not.

  “Morgan.”

  I clenched my hands tighter.

  “Morgan, look at me.”

  My head turned slowly to find him watching me, a faint flush staining his cheeks. “Ryder—”

  He held up his hand. “You did good getting us out of there, but now I need you to do something else.”

  “Okay,” I breathed, waiting for the anger. The anger I rightly deserved.

  “Get out of the Jeep, walk to the back and open the hatch. There is a small lever to one side, it lets the backseat down. Can you do that?”

  Nodding, I hurriedly climbed out and raced to the rear of the car. The handle was cool in the night air and I was vaguely aware of the breeze buffeting my thin pajamas as I opened the back door.

  I pulled up on the lever and pushed the seat down with one hand. The open area grew larger, deepening by nearly three feet of extra space. Ryder was watching me from his place in the passenger seat.

  “Good. Do you see the hatch door?”

  I scanned the rough gray carpet that made up the back floorboard and located a narrow square panel. “Yes.”

  “Pull up on the ring.”

  I did as he asked and looked up at him. “Ryder.”

  “I’m a hunter, Morgan.” His voice was tired.

  My eyes dipped back to the open compartment. Weapons littered the interior, along with several gallons of water, protein bars, and a first aid kit. My face heated.

  “What do you need?” I asked.

  “Water, a meal bar, maybe two, and the med kit.”

  I collected everything and started to bring it around the car.

  “No. I’m coming back there.” The car rocked and my head whipped up as he fell just outside the passenger side door.

  “Ryder.” I raced around to him, the meal bars falling to the ground behind me.

  He was half kneeling, half crouched when I got to him, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly. “Dammit.”

  I hovered at his side, wanting to reach for him and knowing I shouldn’t touch him again.

  He climbed slowly to his feet, his legs quaking. One hand splayed on the side of the Jeep as he caught his balance again. He took a step. Then another. Every thud of his heart was thick and heavy in my ears, but no hunger flared. My thirst was well and truly sated with his blood, it seemed.

  I paced him to the rear of the car and shoved the stuff out of the way so he could climb inside. When he was settled, I handed him the gallon of water and a meal bar.

  He raised dark hazel eyes to meet my gaze head on. “Thanks.”

  I didn’t speak, I couldn’t. My pulse clogged my throat as I took in the small pinprick holes on his tan throat. They no longer bled and seemed clean despite the ferocity in which I had bitten him. But they would leave a bruise if the faint purple ring was anything to go by.

  “How many?” he asked as he popped open the gallon of water and chugged several long pulls.

  “Hunters?” I managed. He nodded, set the jug aside, and opened one of the bars. “Six. Maybe more.”

  He took a bite and mulled that over. “Well, we can’t go back to the house for a few days.” His shoulders sagged. “Dammit. Everything is there. All the gear. Our clothes.”

  I gripped the hem of my silk shorts and fisted the fabric, saying nothing.

  “We have enough water to get through for two days if we ration it. But meal bars are only going to replace a little of what you took.” I winced. He paused, the bar settled on his bottom lip. He pulled it away and looked at me. “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted. But the words were like venom or acid. They were useless and they burned with their inadequacy.

  His brow arched. “For?”

  My eyes jerked to my bite mark.

  He went still, then sighed. There was a rustle and he set the meal bar beside him before shackling my wrists and tugging. I could have pulled away. Kept the distance. But I feared him straining his system more.

  “I told you I would feed you, Morgan.” Still, I kept my eyes averted, unable to see the disgust I was sure would be waiting. The anger. “But next time, ask.” There was no discontent in his tone. Just a kind of weariness.

  I shook as tears burned my eyes and I finally looked at him. “I’m so sorry, Ryder.”

  His thumbs tracked back and forth over my hands. “Consent is important, but I knew you were thirsty, and I know certain things can make it worse.” Warmth stained my cheeks. His answering chuckle was soft. “So innocent.” He lifted one finger and wiped at the tears streaking my face. “And so beautiful.”

  My breathing hitched.

  “Are you still thirsty?” he asked, his tone deeper. Huskier.

  I shook my head.

  He gave a small nod and pulled away to shift deeper into the rear of the Jeep. “Come on, then.”

  I looked at him. “But—”

  “I need to sleep for a few hours, Morgan. And so do you.” His hazel eyes lightened a few shades. “The Jeep isn’t terribly comfortable, but we are safe enough here for now. So come on.”

  I watched as he laid diagonally on the rough gray upholstery. He tugged at a thick jacket stuck behind the seats and balled it up under his head. His sigh was soft.

  Unsure what else to do, I pushed the water and meal bars to one side where they would be in easy reach, climbed into the rear compartment and closed the hatch. Without the panel open, his scent soon filled the space and his heat was scalding.

  I tried to rest sitting up, back pressed to the sidewall of the Jeep. He made a noise of frustration, sat up, snared me about the waist, and laid back. I sprawled over him, one leg draped across his lean, muscular hips as I forced myself to keep space between us. He stared up at me in the dimness. “If I wasn’t so tired, I would make you lay down.” His words were just as still, as careful as his expression.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered.

  He scoured my features. “You didn’t hurt me, Mor.” He leaned up on his elbow and cupped my cheek. “Your bite wasn’t ... what I was expecting. But it didn’t hurt. And with a few hours of sleep, I won’t even feel the drain anymore.”

  But I couldn’t lie down.

  Staying awake seemed like punishment. Maybe not enough punishment, but I refused to let the hunters get close. And I would do whatever I had to in order to keep him safe.

  He growled in a surprisingly animalistic ru
mble and tugged me down to him.

  “Ryder—”

  I broke off under his glower. “Sleep, woman,” he told me. “Please.”

  It was the please that swayed me. That made me stare into his feverish eyes and see the weariness he was trying to hide. But he would not rest as long as I didn’t. It was in the stubborn flex of his jaw, the way his whole body was tense as he held mine.

  On this, he would not bend.

  Heat scalded my eyes again, but I nodded and curled into place beside him. I would not harm him more by arguing. He needed rest. And I could watch out the windows just as easily laying down.

  When I wrapped my arm over the muscular expanse of his midsection, the last vestige of tension seeped from his body with a forceful exhale. I counted in my head, every rise and fall of his chest. Every slowing beat of his heart.

  But I lost count as his warmth permeated my fearful and chilled flesh. My eyelids grew heavy. My body too. I blinked hard, trying to wake myself up without disturbing him. The trees outside the windows were dark, ominous, with thick branches that might as well have been claws to my panicked mind.

  There was no sound, though. No sounds past our breathing and our hearts. Everything slumbered, and only I was left awake with my sins.

  Chapter 14

  Ryder

  I awoke as the sun filtered through the treetops around us, the warm, harsh glow slanting over my closed lids. I opened them and stared up at the roof of the Jeep. Morgan’s body was cool next to me, and her breathing was slow with sleep.

  It was odd, how quickly I was becoming used to having her beside me and how much I wanted to keep her there. Even more disturbing was the warmth it caused in my chest. The brief flash of joy.

  I turned my head and gazed out at the wind rustled trees. My neck twinged from her bite, but there was little residual pain.

  Upon waking, I couldn’t get her browbeaten expression out of my mind. Or the way she had cowered against the sidewall of the Jeep.

  I lifted my hand and covered my eyes.

  She should’ve asked first. I wouldn’t have said no, but it would have given me time to prepare. To really brace myself. Or …

  I think I could have braced for it.

  But even after willingly cutting my own skin to wake her up from the spirit the other night, there was something very different about having a vampire latched onto my neck.

  Disentangling myself, I let out a hard sigh and scooted away from Morgan. She made a small sound of frustration but slept on. Her raven hair was like an oil spill on the gray interior. And in the sunlight, she was more porcelain than pale. With just the faint hint of color staining her shoulders, her cheeks.

  I climbed between the seats and eased open the door.

  My eyes went skyward, checking the sun’s place amidst the blue expanse. Afternoon. We had slept for at least ten hours.

  I walked into the brush, pissed, and came back.

  Morgan slept on.

  Refusing to wake her, I clicked open the glove box, ignored the square box of condoms inside, and pulled out Dad’s old map. I spread it over the hood and tried to plot out our next move.

  Running seemed like the only real option. I could take the hunters. Maybe one at a time. But in a pack of six?

  Never happen.

  Whatever brought them to Salem would keep them here until the job was done. Hell, maybe they lived in Salem. It was supposed to be a vampire free city. That would definitely explain why they wanted Morgan so badly. But they couldn’t have her.

  I would never let it happen.

  Gripping a thick hunk of my hair, I glared at the mass of lines designating roadways, highways, byways, interstates, and little backwoods dirt roads. Not that there were many in Massachusetts. Maybe that was the problem.

  We tried to stay close enough to town, to be near resources. But I knew how to hunt game. I could set traps for rabbit, squirrel, field mice. We wouldn’t starve, and with hunting season approaching, we could head south. Stop in Virginia or Georgia before hitting the Florida coastline. It would buy us time to rest. To sleep far away from hunters of any kind.

  But Virginia was a free zone and Georgia held the largest ley line on the Eastern Seaboard. We would have to dodge supes and human government. And the free zone was going to turn my hair gray.

  Every damn supe in the territory would get one whiff of Morgan and come running.

  She exuded innocence, and with her beauty ...

  I crumpled up the map and threw it.

  The Jeep rocked and my eyes raised as Morgan climbed out the driver’s side door. Her lilac eyes were dim, almost muted. “Why did you throw the map?” she asked softly. It was such a simple question.

  The corner of my lips curved upward. “It didn’t have the road I was looking for.”

  Though she seemed confused, she just walked past me, retrieved the heap of paper and brought it back. Smoothing it back over the hood, she gestured, and said, “There are many roads. Pick another one.”

  I wanted to kiss her.

  But she still seemed distant in the warm afternoon. Cautious.

  “Why don’t you pick?” I said, watching her.

  She peered back before turning and skimming her eyes over the map. A low hum left her slim frame and she pointed imperiously at Interstate 95. She ran her finger along the little yellow line. “This one leads out of the state, yes?” I nodded. “Then we take that one.” Her gaze was stark. “I don’t care where.”

  Her midnight hair draped her shoulders in disheveled silk and I pushed the strands back. She stepped away.

  My lips turned down before I could stop them. But I didn’t press her. She was beating herself up about the bite, and nothing I said was going to change it. Actions always spoke louder anyway.

  “We need our gear then,” I said. “Or access to more.”

  “But the hunters are at the house,” she told me, her hands mottling as she gripped them before her. “We can’t go back.”

  We stood in silence.

  “Morgan,” I said, taking a step toward her. “Everything we have is there. Our food, your clothes. Everything.” My eyes tracked over the stubborn tilt of her chin. “I know you’re worried, but without money, we can’t replace what we had.”

  “Then I’ll get a job.”

  I stared at her. “Morgan—”

  “No, Ryder.” Her voice was fierce. “They think I killed you. If we go back, they will kill me. I know it.” Her expression was so bleak, so troubled. And I had no idea how to ease her fears. She was right, and we both knew it.

  And with the bite on my neck, it was going to be pretty damn obvious that I had let her feed from me. Hunters didn’t do that. They would see me as a besotted blood whore. Nothing more. Anything I said was going to be ignored.

  I reached for her hands and she moved away. I curled my fingers into fists and let my hands fall loose at my sides. “Then we do this quietly. In and out.”

  She shook her head. “Ryder, this isn’t a good idea. I’m sorry. But we need to leave everything behind. We need to go.” Her lilac eyes darkened. “Or I need to go.”

  My gut wrenched. “What?”

  Her lithe frame turned away, giving me her back. “I bit you, Ryder. Without consent. Without permission, and I left you on the ground like discarded food. I’m no better than they—” She stopped abruptly, but not before I saw the fine tremble that went down her spine.

  “We talked about this last night. I agreed for you to—”

  “I could have killed you,” she yelled, whirling to glower at me. “Just like my parents killed those others.” Her hands flew to her mouth, clapping them over her lips as she stared at me with wide-eyed horror.

  I shifted, brows knitting. “What are you talking about?”

  She shook her head, the motion frantic.

  “Morgan.” Every second that passed, her words echoed through the space between us. “What did you mean?”

  Morgan stayed silent as tears welled in her
eyes. Her silence was answer enough.

  I rocked back.

  Her parents were killers. They fed on humans. Drained them.

  Giroux.

  My eyes widened and I stared at her, seeing it all now.

  The dark druid chasing her. Why Dad had been so very sure that a vampire at Lokworth Academy was capable of killing my human classmates.

  He knew. Knew long before the deaths ever happened. It was why we went to Brookhaven. There was a job, he had said. A tip from some nameless informant had led us to the old town. And it led me to Morgan.

  Her breathing hitched. “Ryder, I ...”

  I held up a hand. “How many?” The words were emotionless, empty.

  Her full bottom lip trembled. “I don’t know.”

  Pacing away, I tried to push it all down, to think rationally. But all I could see was my mother’s lifeless body outside my closet door. Her throat in ribbons from a blood drinker no better than Morgan’s parents.

  “I’m sorry, Ryder, I was going to tell you. But I didn’t know how.”

  I couldn’t hear it. Not now. Not ...

  My neck twinged again, the ache from her bite seeming to remind me of the seductive power it had. The seductive pull she had over me.

  “I’m going for a walk,” I said, and even to my ears my voice was hollow. “Stay here.”

  “But—”

  “Stay here,” I snapped, rounding on her. She shrunk back and collided with the hood of the Jeep.

  Guilt and self-loathing mixed in a volatile cocktail inside me.

  I turned on my heel and started into the trees. She didn’t follow.

  Despite weeks of distance, I was just like my father.

  And Morgan was nothing like her parents.

  Chapter 15

  Morgan

  I watched Ryder walk into the trees, his broad shoulders taut with all the anger he had finally shown.

  Every breath seemed hard. Ragged. The pain in my chest was disorienting. I forced myself to stand, to reach for the map on the hood and carefully fold it back. Something about creasing it into order helped.