Chapter Thirteen

I love how much I hate not being inside her. There are many things I shouldn't have done and breaking into her house, scaring her in ghost form, is not one of them.

I plan on doing it again because while she smelled of fear, she reeked of desire. She loved being forced. I think there is more to my mate than she lets on. She'll be honest with me one day when she realizes I am real. I'll give Mickey everything she desires, no matter how much those desires scare her, I'll show her how safe they are with me.

My time of being her ghost is coming to an end, sooner rather than later. She deserves the truth, and I won't let my indecision of her seeing the real me jeopardize her. If Mickey did ever check herself into a mental institution, I wouldn't ever forgive myself.

She has her fears and I have mine.

I like the new me. I like my beasts.

I dislike that I have to reveal them to her. I won't today or tomorrow but I will have to. Not many things have scared me since being an experiment, but showing Mickey who I really am? Even my beasts rear back wanting to hide at the thought of my mate, my beloved, my matching statue, rejecting me.

She can't reject what she doesn't know, and right now, she's too confused to understand which is my fault, but a fault I will stand by until it collapses.

Until then, I'll watch her every move and I'll touch her every chance I get. Once she's about to fall over the edge of insanity, only then will I admit the truth.

The front door slams shut, and my claws dig into her new roof. I've been perched up here for a few hours to enjoy the warmth. I'm no longer bound by the sun during the day; I can move around freely if I choose. The stone in me makes my bones crave the sunlight still so after I watched Mickey fall asleep and dream, I came onto the roof to enjoy the sunrise.

Mickey freed me from only enjoying a portion of my life. I was arrested and chained to live the rest of my life in the dark.

She climbs into her car, the engine sputtering a few times before it starts with a grumble. The exhaust coughs black smoke and I fall forward on my hands, digging the tips of my nails into the new roof.

I snarl at the car, hating how unsafe it is. She can't drive that around when she's pregnant. When we have our children, they won't be safe. She needs something reliable.

She flies down the road, the tail end of her car slightly fishtailing before coming to a complete stop at the sign.

I scoff, placing my hand against my chest as my own heart stops at her recklessness. She'll be the death of me with all this newfound worry and stress. Can I die from being stressed out because of my mate?

Launching myself in the air, I spread my wings, and follow behind her from up above. My shadow falls just behind her car, the massive wingspan taking up the entire road.

I could choose to be in my ghost form but it's too fun to leave people guessing if they see me.

Every so often, her exhaust spews black, irking me further. I'll be slashing her tires, peeling back the roof, and tearing apart the engine beyond repair so she can't drive this piece of shit.

My mate deserves the best.

I'm going to get it for her.

Mickey pulls into the parking lot of Demi's Diner and even from up here, I can see her frustration with how hard she slams the door.

Oh, my mate is mad.

It's so cute.

I watch her enter the diner to ensure she's safe and around friends before I continue flying by. I soar over the restaurant and quaint town. It's almost humorous how sweet this town appears to be, not knowing the creatures that taint its innocence are here.

A few people enter the pharmacy, lifting their hands over their eyes to block the sun to see what is casting such a large shadow. I grin, rise sharply, and disappear into the clouds.

Closing my eyes, I enjoy the wind grazing my cheeks and blowing through my hair. Freedom like this is impossible to have as a human. I'd never go back to such a fragile, weak body.

How I was made was cruel, yet the outcome is something I would never dream I would ever want for myself.

Wanting to have some fun, I flap my wings in a fast beat, gaining speed. I barrel roll, then decide to fall, my wings flush behind my back.

"Woo! Yes! Haha!" I smile, spreading my wings out to stop myself from getting too low. Using my vampire speed to help me fly, I blur through the sky, climbing toward the sun. The air becomes thinner. My lungs struggle to breathe, and I spread my arms and wings, maneuver onto my back, and fall.

The weight of my body has me piercing through the sky. I keep my tail safely wrapped around my leg, enjoying the danger of wondering if I'll hit the ground or not.

My sliver of humanity kicks in.

If I don't look where the ground is, if I don't double-check how close I am to hitting it, I'll make impact.

I'll most likely die from those wounds.

Mickey would be free. My ghost of her would no longer haunt every corner of her mind and body.

I growl at the thought, flipping over onto my stomach and flying higher to avoid death.

She'll have to fucking deal with being haunted because I'm never going anywhere.

Who am I kidding?

Not even death would stop me from consuming her. My soul would rise from the dead. I'd escape the clutches of Hell for her. In my afterlife, I'd choose to be burned by my sins over and over again in every attempt to get to her. When demons rip apart my spirit and piece it back together again, they will find her in my soul's light.

And even they will realize no amount of torture will hold me back. I'll earn my right to invade her life.

When I'm six feet under and the insects are eating my flesh, when the Devil himself is holding my sins, when my bones are forgotten and turn to dust, her light will bring me home.

My cage is not Hell, and I will fight my jailers for trying to keep me there. Mickey is my imprisonment, and I will happily serve my sentence for eternities to come.

Death is nothing but an obstacle if it ever were to happen. Souls live forever and I'd plague hers.

Noticing the car dealership down below has my sordid thoughts disappearing, and I nosedive, my wings flush against my back to gain speed. As I get closer to the dealership, I change my angle, placing my feet first. My wings help slow when I place them in the right position causing the right amount of drag.

My feet hit the hot pavement and I waste no time shifting into my ghost form. Trucks, SUVs, and cars are everywhere. A few salesmen have their hands tucked into their pockets, laughing at something the other said.

I lace my hands behind my back and begin to whistle while checking out the inventory.

No cars. They aren't big enough for all the children Mickey and I will have. I am going to keep her pregnant until she says she wants to stop. Even then, I don't know how I'll stop the craving for seeing her round with my son or daughter.

My cock plumps at the thought and I growl, reaching down to give it one long stroke.

"Did you hear that?" One of the salesmen asks his friends.

"Probably a storm coming."

"It sounded like a growl. An animal."

"It's just thunder, man. Relax."

I chuckle darkly. They should listen to him. An animal is here and is most definitely going to take. I could do this properly. I could pay in cash from the banks I've robbed, but that money is for Mickey.

Not these assholes.

I extend a claw and stare at them, waiting for their reaction as my nail drags across every vehicle I pass.

"What the hell is that? Do you hear that?"

I stop, a sly grin tilting my lips when one of them comes over. He runs, mouth parting when he sees the damage.

"Fuck— guys—"

I cut him off, dragging him behind one of the SUVs, and shift so he can see me. His eyes widen in fear, and I cover his mouth in time, to catch his scream.

"It's okay. I'm not going to kill you." I feel the moment he is caught in my gaze. He relaxes. His brown eyes hood, taking on a glazed appearance. Similar to Mickey's when she is sleepwalking. "You aren't going to make a sound. You aren't going to remember this." There are drops of paralytic beads on the tip of my nails. It doesn't work on Mickey, which makes sense since she is my mate, but everyone else?

Mmm, they are in danger.

I swipe it on his skin. "You're not going to be able to feel your body. You'll be fine in a few hours." His knees buckle and I step back just to watch him hit the ground, his head smacking against the pavement. I click my tongue. "That sounded painful." I shove his body with my foot to see he is immobile and unconscious.

Perfect.

"Sean? Hey man, you okay?"

I sigh in annoyance. "I have to go take care of your other friends now. Don't move." I snicker to myself. "You know what I mean." I blur to the other salesman, slashing his arm with my nail, then the other, and another.

Until all that's left is one.

I snag him by the collar and throw him against a car, denting the door from the force.

Whoops.

He's locked in my gaze, and I take advantage. "You're going to get the paperwork written up. You'll say the car was a giveaway prize or maybe you'll pay for it, I don't care how you do it. See that pretty blue SUV over there? I want it for my mate. You'll give it to me. Okay? And then, after you give me the keys, you won't remember a fucking thing about what happened here, will you?"

"Not a thing," he slurs from my vampiric influence.

"Good." I release him. "Go get it done."

The blue SUV matches her eyes. It looks like it has everything she needs including three rows of seats for our kids.

"And get me a big fucking bow!" I shout over my shoulder.

He takes forever. I have to paralyze the other salesmen two more times and the sun is setting before he comes dragging his feet out of the building with keys and a big bow in hand. The bow is dragging on the ground behind him because it's so massive.

I grin, plucking each from him. "Thank you." Then I slice his arm, inserting the paralytic in his system. "Sorry. I just felt like doing that. You won't remember any of this." I bend down and pat his bald head. "So at least you'll have that." I make my rounds to each downed salesman, mystifying them to alter their memory.

See, if I had no soul, I'd kill them, but my way is so much more fun. For the rest of their lives, they will wonder what happened today, and they will never know. It will bother them. It will be the itch they can't scratch.

Makes me giddy.

I stand in front of the SUV and click the buttons. The door opens automatically, and the car starts.

Climbing inside is another issue.

I can't fit.

"Mother fucker," I snarl, trying a new angle.

I turn, bend over, and back up so my tail has space. My wings get caught on the door frame. I stop and take a minute to gather my patience. I'm one second away from throwing this SUV over a cliff.

My hands are on my hips and my tail whips behind me in anger as I stare into the driver's seat.

Tucking my wings flush against my body, I scoot the seat all the way back, then open the moon roof for the tips of the wings to peek through. Rolling down the window, my tail slides up my back and then slithers out the window.

I barely fit in this damn vehicle.

Peeling out of the parking lot, I leave six men paralyzed, and the only thing I'm thinking about is getting back to Mickey. I'm a few towns over and I won't be at her house for a few hours. Flying is faster and according to the sign I just drove by, I'm nearly two hundred miles away.

I growl, pressing my elbow on the edge of the window, needing to get back to Mickey as soon as possible.

Two hundred miles is too far. What if Ty attacks while I'm gone? How could I be so irresponsible? I lose my mind when I'm flying, a peace falls over me, and I lose track of time.

Pressing my foot against the gas pedal, the engine purrs. I speed down the highway, the trees on the side of the road blurring as I pass them. My wings itch to fly after being trapped in this tight space. The damn bow takes up the entire back seat and trunk.

Red and Blue lights flash behind me, and my fingers curl around the steering wheel, gripping it so hard it creaks.

Snarling, I pull to the side of the road. I'm going to kill this fucking cop for keeping me away from Mickey even longer.

"Don't kill him. Don't kill him," I chant to myself. "Don't get blood on the new car. Mickey won't like that." I take a deep breath in, then release, my thirst for murder easing.

Slightly.

Thinking of Mickey is what will keep this cop alive.

"What the fuck? Are you into cosplay or some shit?" he asks when he gets to my window.

"Something like that," I growl, flashing my fang.

"Do you know how fast you were going? I'm going to need to see your license and registration."

I turn to him, giving him a full view of my face. My eyes bleed red, and he's caught in my gaze.

"You're going to let me go, Officer. You pulled over a man on the way to the hospital with his pregnant wife. She's in labor. You won't remember me, and you let him go because you understood."

"I understood," he echoes in his trance. "That's really nice. I hope the baby is healthy."

"Aw." I pucker my lips. "Aren't you sweet?" I tap my claws on the side of the door, debating if I want to make him bleed. Just a little. Instead, I'll have fun. "You're going to get naked, turn your siren on, and dance in the middle of the road until the sun comes up, Officer."

"That's an awfully long time," he drowses, slowly unbuttoning his shirt because he has no choice but to listen to me.

"It is, but it's either dance or I kill you for keeping me away from my mate even longer."

"I understand. I don't want to die."

"Shame." I suck my tongue over my fangs, wishing this were a different day. "Have fun dancing and use that baton in…" I smirk "A special way. Won't you like that?"

He begins to undo his belt. "I don't think so, but I'm going to try."

I slap his arm and put the car in drive. "Thatta boy. Have a good time." I wrap my tail around the baton, handing him the weapon. "Careful. Seems big."

He holds it to his chest, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Have a great night, officer." I ease forward, keeping a safe speed so I don't accidentally kill him.

I want to kill him, though. I want to hear him scream. I want to hear him beg to live.

Cracking my neck, I growl at the thought of him crying and yelling, the smell of his fear permeating the air and it has me speeding down the road again.

Miles vanish between me and Mickey with how fast I'm going to get back to her. I turn on the radio to help with the last hundred miles, my claws making it difficult to change the station.

I could file them down, but then I couldn't drag them down Mickey's body and leave those bright red lines on her flesh. The marks are a symbol that she belongs to me. They are too important.

And then it hits me.

I have no marks of her on me, which is a shame because I belong to her too. I am hers. She owns me in ways no one can understand except me, except her. I am hers to do what she wants with.

"Thank you for tuning into Cove Top Hits. This is Jerry Z, your radio host for the evening. If you're new here, we do emergency messages from loved ones on every break. We have an urgent message for everyone out there from a worried friend. His name is Fitz. If you're Rhett Royals, this message is for you. I'll play his voice message. Trigger warnings, folks. Be prepared to have your heartstrings tugged."

When I hear the name Fitz, I swerve off the road and yank the wheel to the left, then right, trying to get control of the SUV. I slam on the brakes. Grass and dirt kick up from the tires as I slide to a stop.

My arms are straight. My hands are wrapped around the wheel. My fingers hurt from how hard I'm gripping it. I can't breathe.

And when I hear his voice, every memory I have of him has tears welling in my eyes.

"Hi Cove listeners. My uh—" He clears his throat, emotion already heavy in his voice. "Ah, man. I can't believe I'm doing this, but I'm calling every radio station in the country and I'm desperate."

I stare at the screen, Cove Top Hits scrolling to the left, and a tear breaks free.

"I'm looking for my best friend, my brother. Rhett Royals. He's been missing for… months." He sounds so resigned as if he's lost all hope that I'm out there. "I refuse to give up looking for him. He was supposed to meet me for drinks, and he never did. He never showed and that isn't like Rhett. He's the kind of friend that shows up no matter what. So, Rhett," he calls out to me, my name a shattered breath. "It's Fitz. If you're out there and you're listening, man, please, come home. Call me. Let me know you're…"

I place my head against the steering wheel, more tears dripping down my cheeks as memories and emotions I have completely forgotten about take over me when I think of Fitz.

"Let me know you're alive." His words become higher before they turn into sobs. "Please man. Someone, even if he is dead, I'll get his body. I'll bring him home. He's…" he sniffles. "He's tall, a big guy, over six foot three, built. He owned Royals' Garage, so he isn't weak. He did a lot of manual labor. He has blonde hair. Blue eyes. He's kind. He'll do anything for anyone. He was last seen wearing oil-stained jeans and a light blue T-shirt that had his name on it. I'm not going to give up. I don't care what it takes to find you, man. I know you're out there. I'll find you. It kills me to know something terrible happened to you and I wasn't there."

Fitz is a mess now, trying not to cry but he's failing. He was always the kind of guy who didn't care about showing his emotions.

If I remember correctly.

"Anyway, call this number—" he rattles off his phone number "And here is my email. My home address. Everything. Please, anyone, call me with any information. Rhett, you haven't been forgotten. I love you, brother. I won't stop searching. I promise."

The voice message ends, and Jerry Z comes back on the radio.

"Wow." He clears his throat, obviously affected. "That's a damn good friend right there. If anyone has someone in their lives who cares about you that much, hold onto them. Rhett Royals, if you're out there, we hope you're safe. We hope your friend finds you. You have a lot of listeners hoping for the best."

I slam the power button on the radio with my palm to turn it off.

"Ahhhhhh!" I roar at the top of my lungs, the vibrations shaking the car, and I grip the wheel and repeatedly hit it with my fist. I slam my back against the seat and let out a tortured, soul-wrenching shout, my cheeks wet with my agony.

What am I supposed to do? Call Fitz and tell him where I am? Tell him that I'm… this? I hold a hand to my chest, grabbing my heart from how much I didn't know I missed my friend.

It's better if he believes I'm dead.

The Rhett he is looking for doesn't exist anymore.

He died the day I was taken.

And he's never coming back.