Chapter 23

NEIL

Neil's fingers worked meticulously, his brows pinched together as he focused on her hair.

"When did you learn to do this?" she asked, squirming under his touch. Her shirt rode higher over her thighs, and Neil stared down at them, remembering how she'd felt under him, over him, against him .

He cleared his throat. "My younger sister." Neil paused, picturing Max's face, that scowl twisting her lips, the furrowed brows, and the dark eyes set beneath them. "As the second oldest, I had to watch her a lot when my mom went back to work."

"What does your mom do?"

"Art teacher."

Penelope pouted. "I know so little about you."

Shrugging, Neil tied off her braid, hiding his smile. "It's not like I walk around spouting off private information. I've always kept to myself."

She frowned as she turned and clambered into his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned in close until that intoxicating smell of coconut surrounded him.

"I know, but if I'd known who you truly were—"

"Things wouldn't be different," he interrupted, pulling back. "You and me… Things were always going to pan out this way. We were both too stubborn to talk it out."

"Maybe…" She trailed off, frowning.

"It's dangerous to play the ‘what if' game, Penelope."

She ground her teeth, looking away. Neil wanted to wipe that look off her face.

"Don't do that," she said.

"Why?"

She looked at him, really looked at him. "Are you telling me that you never stopped to wonder what would've happened if we'd just talked? If, instead of me blowing up at Book Con and yelling at you, we could have stepped aside and had a civil conversation?"

Sighing, Neil pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course I've wondered. Part of me will always wonder, but it doesn't do any good to dwell—"

Something clattered in the hall, and Neil and Penelope froze, eyes going to the door.

"Did you hear that?" she asked. Her hands tightened on him, lips parting as her eyes widened.

Neil gently pried her arms from around his neck and set her aside. Holding up a hand to quiet her, he stood.

"Neil, where are you going?"

"I'm going to look."

He flexed his fingers as he neared the door. Why he kept running toward things in this castle instead of away, he'd never understand. It probably had something to do with the writerly urge to know, to experience things in order to write about them. Whatever it was, it was foolish.

Neil reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly, wincing as the hinges squealed. He looked at Penelope as he swung the door open. After hesitating, she nodded, hands clasped tight in her lap.

He peered down the hall.

"Hello?" he called.

There was no one there.

He stepped out into the hall, leaving the door to Penelope's room open wide behind him. This reminded Neil too much of the night before, of the thing slithering through the halls and that wretched, rotting stench filling the space.

Neil heard it again, that same clatter, this time coming from his room.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

But they'd seen Georgina. They'd seen and heard and smelled so many things since coming to the castle, so what was another door after all the things they'd already experienced? He crossed to open the door to his room but paused, hand on the knob.

"Penelope," he started, turning back to her.

He froze.

Her door was still open, and she was seated on her bed, but a young man stood on the threshold of her room. He couldn't be much older than Neil, his dark hair combed back, face freshly shaven. He was dressed in trousers, his ironed white shirt open at the collar, suspenders hanging down his hips. A black jacket was slung over his arm, as if he'd been on his way to retiring for the night.

He was so young.

He was so dead.

And transparent.

"Neil?"

Penelope stood from the bed, her eyes locked on the young man.

Ghost, she mouthed.

I know, Neil mouthed back.

Yes, Penelope, this is indeed a ghost.

Neil took a step toward the ghost, trying to motion to Penelope with his eyes. She nodded, as if understanding. But understand, she did not. Neil watched in horror as Penelope crept around the bed and picked up her boot from the floor.

No, Neil mouthed, waving his hands wildly.

It was too late. She chucked it at the ghost. Neil wasn't certain what she'd thought or how she came to that conclusion, but there was no turning back time.

He felt his life flash before his eyes. Neil knew all too well that she had a powerful throw and good aim, but alas, ghosts were ghosts. The boot sailed right through the ghost. Neil could have guessed it would happen, but still, he'd hoped it would land, that the man walking from her bedroom would have a corporeal body. As the boot hurtled toward him, the young man disappeared, there one second and gone the next, leaving behind no trace.

But the boot did not stop.

No, the boot continued its trajectory. Neil thought to duck, to do anything to stop it from coming, but he froze, and the heel of Penelope Skinner's boot crashed into his face.

His head snapped back from the impact, sending him stumbling a few steps as his hands flew to his nose.

"Oh god," he whimpered, dropping to the floor.

Something wet and sticky slid down his lips and chin, and he cupped his hands over his face, blood dripping into his palms. Penelope ran, kneeling before him. She hovered her hands over him, uncertain how to help.

"Neil, Neil, oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

He heard a door click open down the hall and someone screamed. Another door opened, and soon Laszlo and Daniela were huddled around them with bleary faces. Someone offered a hand to Neil, and they stood, touch gentle under his elbows as they guided him down the hall. Neil's nose throbbed, a sharp, stinging pain traveling from behind his eyes to his chin.

"Do I want to know what happened?" Laszlo asked.

"It was an accident!"

Neil laughed as they helped him toward the stairs. "She's not lying," he mumbled around his hand.

"Are you okay?" Laszlo asked.

He waved a bloody hand at his friend, stumbling a step before Laszlo caught him.

"I don't think I can answer that honestly," Neil said. His mouth tasted like copper, and his face felt like it was on fire, but Neil was certain about one thing: Penelope Skinner couldn't be trusted around throwable objects.

Which, Neil supposed, was approximately too many things.

"I'm not violent," Penelope promised as Laszlo led them into the kitchen and lowered Neil into a chair.

He groaned as Laszlo returned with a damp cloth and pressed it gently to his nose before using another to wipe his hands. Neil felt like a useless child.

"I thought you two had worked out your… differences," Laszlo hissed to her.

"I'm right here," Neil protested, voice muffled by the towel.

"We… well, we did, " Penelope said.

Laszlo looked at Neil suggestively, brows raised, lips puckered in thought. That made Neil blush.

He kicked Laszlo, and the other man grunted. "Don't you dare say a word."

"Wasn't going to." A pause. "What happened?"

"A misunderstanding," he said after a moment.

"Why do I get the feeling you're lying to me?"

Because we are.

Neil wanted to tell his friend the truth. How many years had he and Laszlo been friends? Too long for Laszlo not to suspect something, but Daniela and Laszlo were clearly not experiencing the same castle as Neil and Penelope. Laszlo narrowed his eyes, and Neil mirrored the action, sending a sharp pang down through his nose. Laughing, Laszlo patted his shoulder as Neil winced, and the tall man turned to go.

The castle was still and silent as Laszlo's footsteps disappeared down the hall. Neil squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back, sighing.

"Neil?"

He recognized her touch instantly. Penelope's fingers traced his tattoo, skimming over his skin. She hadn't said a word about it, even though she must have known what the tattoo meant to him. Was she that scared of facing things?

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said. Neil opened his eyes. She smiled warily, and the sight calmed his racing pulse. "I know things between us are still really new, but I promise I wouldn't hurt you on purpose."

Neil lifted the towel away; the blood having finally slowed. He beckoned to her, and Penelope stepped forward, sliding into his lap. She brushed a few stray curls from his forehead, her fingertips gliding over his skin. Neil sighed under her touch.

"I love your hands in my hair."

"Neil," she admonished. "We just saw a ghost."

"What's one more?"

She leaned forward until their foreheads were pressed together. One of his hands went to her hips, and he was pleasantly surprised to discover she still wore only a shirt and underwear.

Neil caught her fingers in his, gently squeezing. He brought their joined hands down to her bare thigh, his hand engulfing hers. Smiling, he tucked the stray wisps of hair behind her ear.

"I suppose we have things to talk about."

"Do we?" she murmured, her breath skating across his lips and sending warmth flooding down to his pants.

"We do." He wove his hand into her braid, his thumb smoothing over her jaw.

"Couldn't we talk about them after we figure out this whole ghost thing?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Are you avoiding difficult conversations again, Penelope Skinner?"

She cleared her throat and sat back, putting a bit of distance between them. "How about a proposal?"

"I'm listening."

"We head to bed," she murmured, her hand skating up his neck. "We go to sleep," she whispered as she bent close, her lips to the shell of his ear, "and we deal with all of this in the morning."

Neil shivered, leaning back to get a good look at her. One of his hands inched down, his fingers skimming the underside of her breast through her shirt. He could see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric, and he rolled one between his fingers.

"I think you're using your feminine wiles to quiet me."

She shrugged and opened her mouth to protest, but her lips parted as Neil's other hand dove down to the heat building between her legs. She inhaled sharply as his fingers inched down.

The small, barely audible gasp she made as he brushed two fingers over her wetness had Neil coming undone. He was lengthening and hardening beneath her, and if it weren't for the pain…

Neil's other hand snaked around to grip her ass, and Penelope bit down on her lip, gray eyes going to his. How could she of all people do this to him? Not even an hour had passed, and he was ready to sink into her again.

His hand slid from her ass to her spine and up until it cradled the back of her neck, fingers knotting in her braid. Neil tugged her down to him, ignoring the sharp stab of pain when she kissed him and their noses crashed together. Her tongue darted past his parted lips, tangling with his, and she tasted like sex and mint.

Neil's other hand brushed aside her underwear and his fingers nudged her opening.

"You're already soaked," he groaned, slipping in a finger.

Her hips moved against him, riding his hand as he dipped in a second finger, the pain of his nose forgotten. Penelope leaned forward and clamped her teeth on his neck, hiding another moan against his skin. The sensation made him shudder and pick up speed, his cock twitching as her nails dug into his shoulder.

She pulled back with a tremor, her eyes half-lidded with desire. "I hope you weren't planning to sleep tonight," she said.

She lifted her hips, his fingers popping out of her. Grinning mischievously, she pulled his fingers into her mouth, running her tongue over them, tasting.

Wide-eyed, Neil stood, following her as she backed away.

"You know I would much rather stay up all night doing these things with you than sleep in my bed alone."

Penelope laughed as she tugged him up the stairs to the east wing. "Sleep is the last thing on my mind."

They paused in the hall between their rooms.

"Maybe we should sleep in your room," she said, tugging him to his door.

"That's a good idea."

"You know what else is a good idea?" she asked coyly.

"What?"

"This . " Smiling, she dragged him toward his bed. He fell backward onto the mattress as she kicked his door closed and straddled him.

Yeah, Neil could get used to this.