A Fate Unknown: A PNR, Why Choose Novel (The Ghost Girl Series Book 1)

by Sinclair Kelly

But now I know things. Like how to navigate the corridors to get to my bedroom. Or how to lock the doors to keep the spirits out during the off hours. It’s like I’ve been given the remote to a smart house, the Gateway being the smart house, and it’s bluetoothed directly to my brain.

  The room has gone quiet, and they’re all staring at me again.

  “What? You act like you’ve never seen a real woman before, boys,” I snark, placing my hand on my hip.

  Hoodie Man looks at his cronies, then Mob Man. “Get her!” he shouts.

  I dive out of the way just as his ghostly hand brushes my arm, sending an involuntary chill through my body. Fucking ghosts. Always so damn cold. A room along the far wall catches my eye, and I race toward it. Throwing the door open, I’m just about over the threshold when my hair is tugged from behind so hard that I’m flung backward.

  “Stop playing games, Sugar Tits,” he snarls in my ear, his cold breath sending goosebumps down my body. “Give me the book, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

  “Let me go, and I won’t have to hurt you!”

  He tugs me by the hair to the center of the room and pushes me to my knees. My eyes water from the burning in my scalp, and my knees throb from the fall. This being a real girl shit hurts something fierce, but I’ll be damned if I let one tear slip free in front of these bozos.

  “Now, that’s a much better position for you, Sugar Tits.”

  “Ew! As if,” I sneer.

  The malevolent look on his face would break a normal girl, but I’ve got Cole, and he’s a helluva lot scarier.

  “Where. Is. The. Fucking. Book?”

  “Up your ass and around the corner,” I deadpan.

  A ghostly backhand smashes across my face, whipping my head to the side, blood spurting out from my busted lip. Guess he didn’t appreciate my charming sense of humor.

  “I’ll ask you one more time. Where is the book?”

  “It’s with Yomama.”

  “Dude, did she just cut a Yo Mama joke?” one of the cronies snickers.

  Hoodie Man is obviously not amused, earning me another backhand across the face. This one hits me square in the eye, the force hard enough it sends my body crashing to the floor. My head bounces off the pretty tile with a loud thunk, and the room spins for a moment before the world rights itself again. I slowly push myself back to my knees. This real girl shit is honestly turning out to be a huge pain in the ass, I think as I take a deep breath, cursing the fact that my head is throbbing in sync with my rapidly beating heart. Wonder just how much this body of mine can take? Pretty sure I’m going to find out.

  Warmth trickles down my chin thanks to the blood seeping from my lip. My eye is slowly swelling shut, and I’m pretty sure the sight of me would scare most small children. And these days, those little shits don’t scare easily. The guys, however, are going to freak the fuck out when they get a good look at me. Assuming they actually show up. My stomach rolls, and I have a feeling whatever’s in there will be making a reappearance on Hoodie Man’s sneakers real soon.

  “Last chance. If you tell me where the book is, I’ll let you live. You don’t, I kill you once and for all. But first, I’ll go grab those useless guys of yours and kill each one of them in front of you.”

  And with that, I feel my power surge slightly for the first time since we’ve arrived. But it’s still six against one, and those aren’t good odds.

  “How about you all go to Hell?”

  He grabs me by the throat and pulls me off the ground until my feet are dangling in mid-air. For a ghost, he’s got some impressive strength. My hands wrap around his translucent wrists, but no matter what I do, I can’t relieve the pressure that’s slowly cutting off my air supply.

  “You should’ve just given me the book while you had the chance,” he snarls, inches from my face.

  “And you should let her go right fucking now,” growls a voice from behind me. A voice I’ve grown to love and hate, sometimes both at the same time.

  Hoodie Man doesn’t even flinch. He looks to where my guys must be standing, and shouts out, “Get them! Maybe one of them can tell us where the book is.”

  As the sound of fighting breaks out all around me, Hoodie Man’s hold on my throat never eases up. If anything, his grip tightens, and I know I’m going to pass out within seconds. Or worse.

  “Maybe you misunderstood me?” Cole asks in a low, deadly voice that somehow still manages to do things to my semi-conscious body. Contrary bitch. Love him or hate him. Just pick one already.

  “I’ll give you the same offer I gave her. If you tell me what I want to know, you can have your pitiful excuse for a queen back, and we’ll leave.”

  Things are going hazy, spots dancing in my vision as the room grows slowly darker.

  With the last bit of awareness I have left, I hear a grunt from behind me and a body hitting the floor. I recognize that grunt. It’s been aimed at me enough times.

  That’s all it takes for my powers to flood through me. A threat to one of my guys. Even the asshole.

  Hoodie Man whimpers as my power sparks against him, and the hand that’s around my throat releases its hold, dropping me to the floor. I take a few deep breaths, desperate for air, but this is no time to be weak. My guys need me. I stand, admittedly on shaky legs, but my hands are alight with my pretty pink orbs, which are brighter than ever. The light in the room begins to flicker, and I glance behind me to see Cole picking himself up off the ground. Blood oozes from the wound in his shoulder, while his attacker is nothing more than a wisp of smoke behind him.

  Our eyes meet, and in the space of a few heartbeats, all of his fear and regret and longing floods me, and my heart swells with an emotion I really don’t have time for. Stubborn ass. Took him long enough. It’s enough that he came for me. That they all came for me. I’ll have to remember to thank them later.

  Cole’s eyes widen in terror a second before he shouts, “Fate!”

  In that second, an image appears in my head and is gone faster than I can blink. With intent, I grasp the Gateway’s mark on my wrist and spin to face Hoodie Man just as a magicked, ghostly blade slices right through my middle. I gasp.

  “No!” Cole’s guttural scream reverberates through the room. All fighting ceases, and I can hear the sound of footsteps running in my direction.

  The entire room is focused on the blade sticking out of my mid-section, and I’m inundated with the feelings of disbelief and horror flooding off my guys.

  I glance down at the translucent metal sticking right through me, then look up and meet the eyes of my attacker.

  We stand there, a premature celebratory grin crossing Hoodie Man’s face.

  “Remember when I asked if you wanted to go to Hell?” I whisper, grimacing theatrically, though it really does hurt like a motherfucker.

  My fingertips glimmer, the electricity pulsing off them in bright pink wisps of color. His grin morphs into a look of shock as I thrust my hand right into his chest. “I wasn’t asking hypothetically, dumbass.”

  His eyes widen as a loud screech leaves his mouth. The blade simply slides through the rest of my body and disappears before it hits the floor. Meanwhile, I send a silent thank you to the Gateway for that little tidbit of information. Apparently all it takes is a little intent to shift between forms, my corporeal and incorporeal state bendable to my will, along with some strange new mix of the two. Thank fuck this ghostly body isn’t quite as weak as the previous one - or as see through. Though the power required to maintain it is a bitch at the moment.

  Flames engulf him, a chorus of screams echoing through the room before he disappears in a cloud of black smoke. I turn and face the rest of the astonished men in the room.

  “Who’s next?” I ask, realizing I’m floating slightly above the floor now, each of my hands holding bright pinkish orbs. Even my orbs are pretty. #GhostGirlFTW

  The remaining cronies all make a run for the exit. I mentally connect with the Gateway, and the doors slam shut, sending them all
to a screeching halt.

  “Take care of them, would you? I think I might pass out,” I mutter to the guys before I give up the hold on my power. My body, once again returned to its solid form, reels from its injuries. The pain is too much to bear, and I start to collapse.

  Strong arms catch me before I hit the floor, and the smell of soap and something earthy and alluring surrounds me. I manage to open my eyes and find myself staring into Cole’s icy blues. His hand comes up to brush a stray piece of hair off my face.

  “You came,” I whisper.

  “I’ll always come for you.”

  I smirk. “There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere.”

  He chuckles, and it’s one of the best sounds I’ve heard all day.

  “You can tell it to me later.”

  “The guys?” I whisper. I can’t seem to keep my eyes open any longer.

  “Don’t worry about them. They’re fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Shhh. I’ve got you now, love.”

  And with that, I pass out.

  Despite everything she just went through, the look of utter peace on her face should settle me, but it doesn’t. Her eye is swollen shut and already turning black and blue, and she has a puffy bottom lip, though the blood has stopped seeping from the split. Even in this state, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

  My guilt is practically a living thing, churning in my gut. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, she might be sitting here giving me shit right now instead of lying unconscious.

  When she passed out, I carried her away from the chaos. With Reggie leading me through the maze that is the Gateway, we made it to her bedroom. Placing her on the enormous bed that could easily fit our entire group - I had to stop my brain before it could dive too deeply into that thought - she didn’t so much as flinch when her body touched the cool silk sheets. Reggie pointed me to the bathroom so I could find clean washcloths before racing back out to check on the others. I gently washed the dirt and blood off her face, wincing at each new mark I came across. Then I cleaned myself up, bandaging my shoulder well enough that blood was no longer dripping down my body.

  I’ve been lying here for the last hour, praying that she’d wake up soon so my heart would stop its frantic beating. My soul is restless, being this close to her and not being able to tell her how sorry I am. That I think she’s one of the strongest women I know. That my feelings for her are so deep and complex that I couldn’t put them into words if I tried. If I did, her contrary ass would probably just give me shit for it anyway. Then I’d get pissy, and we’d start arguing. I’m not going to lie, there’s nothing hotter than seeing her cheeks flush with anger and those gray eyes of hers ignite with fire. Not the ghost kind. The female kind. And damn...I can’t wait to see that look aimed my way again.

  Now, as I lie here with my body next to hers, watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing, I know it’s going to take time. I know she’s likely never going to forgive me for being such a stubborn jackass. And that’s okay. We have nothing but time for me to prove to her that I can be different. I make a promise to never put myself in a position to have to say I'm sorry to this woman ever again. She deserves more from me, and I’m going to give that to her. Starting right now.

  My body is wrapped in a comforting warmth, surrounded by the scent of earth and sun and soap, which does miraculous things for my weary soul. It seems oddly familiar, though I can’t seem to place it.

  The pounding in my head and the sting from my lip as I take a deep breath tell me I’m most definitely still living. I’ll consider that a win.

  As I slowly open my non-swollen eye, a quiet gasp leaves my lips.

  Inches from my nose is the one man I never would’ve expected to see. In sleep, his features have softened, looking almost innocent in their boyish charm. For the first time, I can appreciate how long his eyelashes are when his piercing blue eyes aren’t distracting me. A small mole sits near his nose on his left cheek. His breathing is even as he sleeps, and I take a moment to catalog his features. It will help me remember the total innocence he’s got buried deep down the next time he aims that grumpy scowl my way.

  With his peaceful expression committed to memory, my eyes continue their exploration and land on a very impressive, very naked chest, minus the bandage criss-crossing over his shoulder and under his arm. The sight of the bandage does little to stop my gawking. Perfectly symmetrical chest muscles, an eight pack that is evident even in sleep, and tanned skin that is just begging for my tongue to trace every line and groove. For a moment, I forget who I’m drooling over.

  But let’s be honest, even when he’s pissed off and scowling, my traitorous body still wants him. The man is hot. Both figuratively and literally. With his arm thrown over my body, I’m slowly overheating and not really in a good way considering my pulse is pounding and that pounding is reverberating through my injured skull.

  I ever so slowly lift his heavy ass arm up and off my body, setting it gently on the bed in front of him. He doesn’t so much as twitch. Making my way off the opposite side of the bed, I wonder just how big this thing is when it takes at least three or four good shimmies of my hips to even reach the edge. Setting my feet on the floor, I slowly attempt to stand, and I’m proud of myself when the room only spins once. Alright, maybe twice.

  As I head for the only open door in the room, I glance back at the half-naked man still sleeping peacefully. Every ounce of my soul wants to climb right back in and take advantage of this situation. See what that chest of his feels like all up against my own. But every ounce of my sore body thinks that is a very bad idea.

  Since when did you become such a realist? I ask said body. She’s usually such a horny broad. Not sure why she’s getting all shy now. Pretty sure she just rolled her eyes at me. And now I’m talking to myself. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.

  From where I stand, I notice just how ginormous the bed really is. With its cream silk sheets that are now covered in my blood, it’s easily big enough to fit, oh...say, five massive guys. Just imagining what we could get up to on that thing is enough to have me wishing I had all my memories back. Bet the highlight reel is epic!

  The massive bathroom calls to me, and my injured body slowly makes its way across the room. The sparkly, dark gray floor tile warms my feet as I step in, marveling at the elegance and sense of serenity that engulfs me. Lighter gray mosaic tiles line the walls, with two large gilded mirrors placed above the double vanity on the right hand side of the space. The counter is lined with enough shit that you’d never guess we’ve been gone a hundred years. Makeup and lotions - is that massage oil? - all sit near the closest sink, with razors and cologne and all kinds of guy shit by the other. The shower easily takes up the entire wall on the opposite side of the room, enclosed completely by glass walls with a glass door at the center. This thing makes the bed look small. A tiled bench sits in the middle of the large space, with a small recessed shelf above it dedicated for towels. At the far end, it has one of those amazing showerheads on the ceiling and at least three more on the wall. Plenty of room for group showering. Sign me up, please! At the other end, still within the glass, is a large bowl-shaped tub that could easily fit three or four people.

  First the bed, now the shower. One might think I had a need for spaces that could easily accommodate multiple people. My mind, though still scattered and pounding, has gone straight to the gutter. Even after discovering the uniqueness of our relationship, it never really occurred to me that these guys would be into a group thing. I’ve suddenly flipped from fantasies about sandwiches to fantasies about one big, heaping, man meat casserole. Ooh...and Jello. I mean, the tub is shaped like a bowl. There’s always room for Jello, right?

  Did I have a food fetish in my past life?

  But the second I catch sight of myself in the large mirror above the sinks, my raging libido dies an instant death.

  Even with the lights on low, I can see the utter devastation that is my fac
e. I walk up and place my slightly shaking hands on the pretty white granite countertops and lean in a bit to get a good look at the damage. My left eye is swollen so much that you can barely differentiate between my upper and lower eyelids. It’s a lovely shade of blackish purple. My bottom lip is puffy with a large split near the middle, and my neck is sporting a very unattractive necklace of finger-shaped bruises in varying shades of hideous. In other words, I look like hell.

  That’s only compounded by the fact that while my leather jacket and boots have been removed, I’m still in the white tank and holey jeans that are now dirty and stained with my blood.

  I stare at myself a moment. Not only am I unused to seeing myself so battered, but also at seeing a face that is still so unfamiliar. I look back at my reflection, wondering what the old me saw when she looked in this mirror. Did she have the same doubts and worries that I have? That I’ll never be powerful enough, or strong enough, or...hell...let’s be honest...me enough to keep five guys interested?

  “I’m sorry,” comes Cole’s low, deep voice from the doorway, startling me out of a brewing pity party.

  I glance his way and am once again shocked by the sight of his bare chest. He takes my silence as a sign of my being upset, when in reality I am just struck mute by the way his abs and pecs flex as he shoves his hands into his back pockets.

  “I know you and I didn’t get off to the best start, and that I’ve been an ass to you since day one, but I never would’ve let you intentionally walk into danger if I had known.”

  Those last words break me out of my trance, and I finally bring my eyes up to meet his.

  “If you had known what?” I ask, confused. My brain is not firing on all its cylinders.

  “That not having all of your marks was the reason your powers were unstable. Reggie told us you need us to help balance them.” He pauses and takes a couple of tentative steps toward me. Pulling one hand from his jeans, his fingertips skim over the four marks on my bicep. “You have my brothers’ marks, but not mine.”