“Not just a perv,” I said, stepping into the bedroom. The energy here was layered, with longing, protectiveness, and sexual need so intense it made my hands shake. “He's been taking care of you. I can feel it. Little things, right? Lucky breaks?”
“The latte art.” Hunter nodded. “Ever since I moved down here, things have been, I don’t know. Yeah, I catch lucky breaks all the time. Parking spots, twenty-dollar bills on the ground. That sort of thing.”
“You've got yourself a guardian angel with a hard-on,” I said, turning to face him. “That's rare. Most attachment hauntings turn toxic. This one's possessive as hell, but he genuinely cares about you. That takes serious control.”
I'd seen the other kind. Spirits who isolated their targets, who drained them slowly. This was different. Codependent? Definitely. Jealous? Absolutely. But there was something almost sweet about it, devotion that had lasted years without going dark.
“And incredibly thirsty,” I added, because that needed to be said. My cock was aching, responding to the ghost horniness in the air.
The lights dimmed and brightened in a pattern that felt distinctly smug.
“Yeah, he's a drama queen.” Hunter ran a hand through his dark hair, still damp from his shower, sticking up in ways that made me want to grab it while he sucked me off. “So can you, like, exorcise him or—”
“I don't do exorcisms.” I shrugged off my jacket, trying to look professional while my dick tried to escape my jeans. “I helpghosts talk. Think couples therapy, except one of you is dead and gagging for it. I'm just going to look around, if that's okay."
The apartment showed evidence of the haunting everywhere. Books organized by color; no living person did that naturally. Kitchen spices alphabetized. The bathroom towels folded with hotel precision. And the sexual tension was so thick I could practically swim through it.
“Your ghost is a neat freak.”
“He gets bored,” Hunter said. “And apparently horny. Very, very horny if tonight's any indication.”
“Let me try something.” I closed my eyes, extending my awareness. Most spirits could barely move a curtain. This one was strong.
Years of focused intention had made him powerful.
I could feel him now, really feel him. Young when he died—early twenties. Violent death, sudden, didn't see it coming. But no anger about it, just... regret. So much regret. And then decades of watching people come and go until he found Hunter, learning him, wanting him from behind the veil.
“He died young,” I said, opening my eyes. “Accident, probably. Been dead about twenty years.” The energy shifted, hope mixing with the lust, creating something so intense my knees went weak.
“Can you…” Hunter waved his hand around the apartment. “Can you ask him why?”
“First, I need to establish contact.” I pulled out my phone. “Let's use your laptop.”
Hunter's laptop was already open on his coffee table. I sat on his couch, and Hunter immediately sat close enough that our thighs touched, heat bleeding through denim.
I opened a blank document.
The moment I placed my fingers on the keyboard, I felt the entity surge forward, eager to finally communicate.
“Okay, I know you're here,” I said to the room. “Type something.”
Nothing. Then, slowly, letters appearing:
MINE
“Subtle,” I muttered. “Hunter is not property.”
The response came faster:
HUNTER MINE THREE YEARS WATCHING PROTECTING WANTING
“Protecting from what?”
BAD FOR HIM MANNY CHEATER DRAKE JUST WANTED ASS RYAN HAD BOYFRIEND WATCHED HIM LONG ENOUGH KNEW WHAT HE NEEDED COULDNT STAND THEM TOUCHING HIM ANYMORE
Hunter made a strangled sound. “You've been screening my dates?”
THEY DIDNT DESERVE YOU NONE OF THEM WOULD HAVE MADE YOU CUM LIKE YOU NEED
