Chapter Seven

The thought of possessing her body gives me too many ideas and not enough time to act on them.

I can't seem to get close enough. I want to touch her with my own hands, not as a ghost, but as me. And I want to watch her ache for my touch.

This storm isn't helping me control my needs. The vibrations in the atmosphere from the thunder are sending my need to mate into overdrive. The heavy rain is like an aphrodisiac drug causing my blood to heat and my cock to stir.

I'm lucky she has to go into the dining room to help take orders when a rush comes in. I want to follow her, to protect her, to be by her side with every person she confronts, but I also don't want to be too much of a distraction. Not at her place of work.

I know how important a job is. That much I haven't forgotten. Not that I can ever have a normal job again. It's why I robbed a few banks to stash money away for Mickey. It's currently buried under her house in my burrow.

Being part ghost really has its advantages. Granted, I'm a criminal now instead of a man who follows the rules.

Then again, I'm not a man anymore, so those rules don't apply to me.

The lights flicker again from the storm outside and the wind whistles by the building. I grip the counter, my cock becoming so hard it hurts. The vibrations are loud in my chest and impossible to hide.

Holt darts his eyes around the room, trying to figure out where it is coming from, and I rush out of the kitchen. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to keep this form. Or how long I'll be able to keep myself away from Mickey like I have been.

I've seen her scars and I want to take them away only to add my own.

The clock is ticking and the urge to mate gets stronger with every passing second. She'll be lucky to make it another two days without being filled with my come.

Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms, scenting Mickey before anyone else. She has her hair up in a ponytail, with a few wild pieces hanging around her face from rushing all over the dining room. Her cheeks are flushed, and she smiles at the couple sitting in the red booth. Mickey gets out her pen and notepad to take their order.

I lick my tongue across my teeth, wanting to kill the couple smiling at my mate. Her smiles belong to me. Everything she does belongs to me.

Unwilling to be away from her for too long, I drift through the air until I'm by her side. Already, the scent of her calms me, the closeness of her body against mine soothes the fire blazing in my chest.

Not the flames burning with lust, but the ones searing with rage.

"I'll be right back with your drinks, okay?" she tells the couple in the booth.

I let her walk a few feet away before I lean over the table and snarl, "You better leave her the best fucking tip of your life. All the cash in your wallet or so help me, you won't make it to your fucking car after your meal because I'll be picking my teeth with your bones."

"What the fuck was that?" The man shouts, scooting to the corner of the booth.

I want to call him a pussy, but I wouldn't dare insult something I love to eat.

The woman has lost all the color in her face as her eyes fill with tears.

Aw, did my threat scare them?

Good.

I shove away from the table, making my way to Mickey's side again.

"Your food will be ready in a minute," she reassures the man sitting alone.

She's so sweet and good at her job.

This is why she needs me. Sweet won't pay the bills.

I watch her ponytail sway as she walks away toward the kitchen. When I'm safe, I wrap my hand around the man's throat and squeeze it, yanking him closer to me. He gasps, slamming his hands on the table. Silverware clinks and his drink sloshes over the rim of the glass.

"You'll eat everything on your plate. You won't blame the waitress if something is wrong with it. And you'll pay my mate triple your bill as a tip. If you don't, I'll follow you home and wear your skin as a suit." I shove him across the booth until his side slams against the wall.

He coughs, as he rubs his neck. I sniff the air and scoff when I smell he has pissed his pants.

Coward.

My attention is stolen when another one of her customers on the other side of the diner gets up and tosses a few bucks on the table.

Oh, fuck no.

Is this how she's been making a living? A few dollars here and there? That ends fucking today.

A tingle swims up my spine as my body passes through a few tables before I'm standing in front of him.

"She deserves more," I bark at him.

His black, wild, unkept eyebrows dance in wonderment, curious if he heard what he thought he did.

"Maybe this will help." I swipe the fork from the table and stab his hand, then cover his mouth with my free hand to hold in his scream. "I said to give her more or I'll stab every inch of you with this fork and take you to the bottom of the lake to let my fish friends feed off you."

His body trembles. His good hand reaches for the wallet in his back pocket. I snag it from him and clink my teeth together when I part the folds.

There's a few hundred dollars sitting there, and he gave my mate a few bucks? He better be glad I can't kill him in the diner.

I snag all the money from his wallet and drop it on the table.

"Are we clear?"

Sweat drips from his temple as he lets out a high-pitched— yet agreeable— hum. I jerk the fork out of his hand and then wipe the blood on a napkin.

"Apply pressure and the bleeding will stop. Unless you fuck up again," I warn, my tone lethal.

He runs out of the diner, holding his hand to his chest, mumbling something about, "This place is crazy."

And it will get crazier if people don't tip my mate more.

The bell jingles above the door and everything about the man who enters has my senses on alert. He is wearing a leather jacket that he shakes the rain from, and his hair is styled and parted with too much gel. His calculating eyes roam the room to look for an ideal seat.

"You can sit wherever, and your server will be right with you," Caden says with a smile, bringing drinks to his table.

"Thanks. Is Mickey working today?"

"She is. Her section is over there if you're wanting her."

The man gives a sly smile with a slow nod. "Thanks. I'll do that."

I don't take my eyes off him. The closer he gets to me, the more I want to kill him. I don't like that he's asking for Mickey. Not my Mickey. If I could, I'd rip his head off in the middle of the diner and make it a blood bath.

His boots scuff across the floor, and the chains on his pants clink together with every step. When he sits down, he places his elbows on the counter and laces his hands together. Not wanting Mickey to meet this guy, I blur over, wanting to mystify him to tell him to leave, but Mickey beats me to the punch.

"Hi, welcome to Demi's Diner. Is there anything I can get to drink for you?" she asks, tugging the sleeve of her shirt to cover her wrist.

If she only knew how beautiful her marred skin was. It proves she's a survivor and when I get the chance, I'm going to kiss, lick, and bite every scar on her body.

Then, I'm going to fuck her tight cunt to show her just how much her body turns me on.

He tosses a twenty on the table and rubs his fingers over his lips. "No, no. Actually, I heard you were working here, and I wanted to come say hi. I don't know if you remember me from high school, but I'm Stephen Rowe."

Mickey's smile fades and she takes the smallest step back. "I'm sorry, no. I don't recognize that name."

"Are you sure? I sat a few seats behind you in English. It's been years. I'd love to be able to catch up sometime. Do you have a break coming up?"

"Um." Mickey becomes flustered. Her fear is putrid. "No, I just started my shift."

Good girl, for lying.

"How did you know I worked here? No one knows," her voice trembles.

"I heard people in town talking about the diner. Your name came up because they said you were a great waitress. I didn't mean to scare you." He places his hand on his chest. "I'm sorry about that. I'll go."

"No, you don't have to. You can order."

He shakes his head and pushes himself up to stand. "Don't worry about it. We can catch up another time, Mickey. It was good seeing you. You look great," he compliments. "Here is my card. Call me when it is a good time."

Mickey takes it because she has no choice. She doesn't say yes or no but gives him a tight closed smile before tucking it into the pocket of her apron.

"See you around, Mickey."

I growl, following him outside. I stop before I get wet, but he runs to a beat-up red truck before reversing out of the parking spot. The tires squeal against the wet pavement as he speeds away, the red taillights blurring in the heavy sheets of rain.

Snarling, I seep through the entryway, not allowing the bell above to alert anyone. Mickey is still standing near the table, staring at the spot where the man was sitting.

"Do you want me to kill him?"I ask her, dragging my knuckles down her arm. I nuzzle her cheek, bringing my lips to her ear. "Because I will. I'll kill him for upsetting you."

"No," she whispers. "He isn't worth it, but there's something about him. I know him from somewhere. I think. I don't like how he made me feel," she says.

"Good. Listen to that. Your instincts are never wrong."I think I'll kill him anyway.

"Mickey?" Her brother rushes to her side. "Mick, what's wrong? Talk to me."

"I want that security system installed as soon as possible, Milo." Her eyes water and she tilts her head back, staring at the bright lights to stop herself from crying.

I press my hand against the middle of her chest, and she relaxes, shoulders dropping, lungs opening to inhale fully.

"I don't want to be afraid anymore," she admits, snagging the twenty from the table to tuck it in her apron. "I'm done."

The lights flicker again from the storm, the patrons murmuring with concern. Thunder rolls and my eyes roll to the back of my head, my nostrils flaring.

"Get your tips and go to our apartment. Don't go back to your house. It isn't safe yet," Milo pleads. "I'll call someone to get new doors, windows, and security installed as soon as I can, but please—"

"—I won't be forced out of my house. I won't run scared. I'm tired of being afraid."

"Then I'm coming over," Milo says, yanking the towel from Mickey's hand so she can't clean anymore.

I don't want him to come over.

"Milo, you don't have to. There's nowhere for you to sleep anyway. Really, I'll be fine."

He sighs, throwing his hands on his hips. "Fine, but you'll call me with the code word if anything is wrong?"

"You'll be protected, Mickey. I won't let anything happen to you,"I whisper, standing directly behind her in hopes she can feel me.

"You know I will."

Milo hugs her tight. "And what's the code word?"

She releases a wobbly breath. "Snapdragons."

"Good. Now, go home. Your shift is about over anyway. Call me when you get there."

She nods without saying anything, snagging her tips from her other tables.

And when she's ready, I follow her home, keeping my promise that nothing will happen to her as long as I'm here.

By the time we get to the cottage-style house, the storm has strengthened and has gotten worse. The sky is marbles of clouds ranging from black, deep purple, and shades of gray. As lightning strikes, it veins through the thickening domes. A hellish view to match the sinister cravings I have for her.

She parks her car in the driveway, gripping the wheel until her knuckles turn white. We are in silence. The radio isn't on. The rain bullets against the windshield. The wipers make a small squeak with every motion.

"What happened to the gargoyle statue?" She sniffles.

"He came to life," I reply knowingly, licking my fang with smug satisfaction.

"Statues can't come to life. I'm going insane." She drops her forehead against the wheel, tears dripping off her jaw and onto her pants.

A waste.

"Hearing voices can't be good. I need to see someone. I'm fucked up."

"We're all fucked up, Mickey."

She hits the side of her head, wanting the voice— me— to stop.

"No, not like this. People don't have conversations with themselves like this. I have to see someone. I have to get on medication. This isn't right."

I debate on revealing myself, but I'm not sure she's ready.

Haunting her mind, body, and soul is the only option. I need her to be consumed by me, by the thought of me, so she knows that seeking help is no longer needed. She'll turn to me, the voice in the back of her head.

She'll depend on me.

And when she sees me for the first time, she'll be relieved the monster isn't her, but me.

She climbs out of the car and dashes to the door, the rain already soaking her from head to toe in the few seconds she is in the downpour. I decide to give her some space— a break from the voice driving her to the brink of madness.

An insanity that's only meant for me.

I watch my mate get inside the house and hear the door lock. Only then do I get out and blur to the back of the house, shifting into my crocodile form.

Slipping under the foundation, I crawl through my burrow, following the trail that leads to her bedroom. The dirt under my webbed feet is soft. My three-hundred-and-sixty-degree vision allows me to see everything in the damp undercarriage of the house.

A spider crawls on the ground next to me, hurrying to the web it created while I was gone today. A snake slithers in front of me, and I open my wide jaws, hissing at it to get the hell out of my way. There used to be a family of skunks that lived under here, but I got hungry.

A choice I regret because they tasted just as badly as they smelled.

My belly slides across the ground with every step I take, my long tail swishing back and forth. I hear her footsteps above me in her bedroom, but I can't see her because she replaced her floorboards.

All the holes I made are gone.

That's fine.

I flip onto my back and shift into my humanoid form, using the burrow as extra space to lie down and lengthen my claws. I wait until her feet sound on the opposite end of the house before I punch my claw through, sawing a small circle.

Peeping through the hole, I partially shift my eye into my crocodile so I can see more of the surroundings in her room. Mickey comes back and begins to undress, shucking off the wet clothes until she's in nothing but her bra and panties.

"Hmm," I growl, reaching for my cock. "Such a pretty sight. Take more off for me, come on, My Timid Little Bloom. Let me see you." I squeeze my cock, the thunderstorm outside bringing me new energy.

She pulls her tips out of her apron and tosses them on the bed. The moment of having more than usual makes her pause.

"What in the… no way." She kneels on the bed and begins to count every dollar. "Four hundred and fifty bucks? How is that possible?"

"I have more under here for us, Mickey. You never have to worry about money again," I whisper so she can't hear. "Your life will no longer be difficult."

She jumps off the bed and dances, squealing with happiness, the biggest smile I've ever seen her wear.

Somehow, that turns me on more— her happiness. I stroke myself faster, needing a quick release to take the edge off. The jellyfish head of my sack slaps against my hand with every stroke.

Mickey tucks the money under her mattress since she has nowhere else to put it. Then, she snaps her bra off, revealing her palm-sized tits. She wiggles out of her panties and tosses them my way. They are so close; I can smell that sweet pussy.

My mouth waters.

Thunder shakes the entire house, feeding my stamina, and I nearly want to weep with the need building in my fucking bones. My marrow begins to buzz, my mind begins to haze, and I groan, my orgasm painting my stomach.

I don't know how much longer I can force myself away from her. I don't want to add to her scars, I only want to heal the ones she has so they are forgotten, and then I want to mark her.

Shifting into my crocodile after the empty, non-satisfying orgasm, I follow the trail I've made for myself and crawl out from under the house. The grass is still long and it's able to hide my form as I slip into the lake.

I spin around, watching the home for anything out of the ordinary. I'm not sure how much time has passed, but the rain stops, the clouds open to reveal the galaxy above, and Mickey walks down the steps.

Her hair is in a bun, and she has a long gray cardigan wrapped tightly around her waist. I stay exactly where I'm at as she stops on the shore, her toes wiggling in the water.

She looks relieved to be home.

I propel my tail through the water, needing to get a little closer because she smells like her body wash, and in the best way I can, I smirk in my crocodile form.

Mickey screams when she sees me, falling backward on her ass. She scurries away, locking eyes with me.

"Holy shit, that's a crocodile. Oh my God. Don't eat me."

I shake my head, sloshing water everywhere.

She nervously gets to her knees, then stands, taking another step back. "I'm not trying to force you out of your home or anything. I promise. Great, I'm talking to a reptile that can't talk back. It's official. I've lost my mind."

I swim to shore, opening my jaws before closing them again. I do my best to look non-threatening. That's hard to do in this form.

"I've never seen a crocodile up close before. You're pretty big."

I open my jaws again and slam them shut, before vibrating naturally.

"That's the sound I heard the other night. I don't remember much after that, but I've heard this before. That's you?"

I try to nod but it just looks like I'm swinging my head up and down.

"It's crazy, but I think you might understand me." She falls to her knees and reaches for my snout. She's slow, tentative, and unsure. "Can I pet you? No, right? You'll eat my hand."

I crawl up the shore to be closer and my nose bumps her palm. She grins and her hand runs over my head, down my neck, then back up again. My eyes close as she pets me. Vibrations become louder from my chest, and she slides closer, unable to stop herself from being pulled to me.

"You're softer than I thought a crocodile would be. You're beautiful too."

I purr a little louder at the compliment.

"I doubt all are like you, right? Wouldn't most drag me in the water?"

I want to snag her by the leg and take her to my depths, bind us in the water that allows me to live.

"You'll protect me right?"

Oh, you have no idea, My Timid Little Bloom.

No idea.