Page 28 of Phantom’s Mate

“Doesn’t that make them pissed off at you?” Britt asked.

“Nah, they blame each other. And anyway, they are the pranksters from hell. They deserve everything they get.”

“You are evil,” she said. “Can I try it?”

“When we get you out of here, sure.”

He kept making plans for when she got out, until he realized that she always got really quiet when he talked about it, and made love to him more intensely afterwards.

She didn’t believe it would really happen. And she was afraid he would leave her.

The thought of leaving her made his chest ache, and it also brought back that molten hot lump in his gullet that belonged to Jax. Every time it came back, it came with another wave of anger—deeper and hotter than before—and he had to make love to Britt even more fiercely to bury it again.

He knew he couldn’t put that off forever—Jax needed to be dealt with. When he was dead and in hell where he belonged, that anger would fade.

But on the third morning it came back worse than ever. He’d laid awake for hours, holding Britt while she slept. He didn’t sleep, as a ghost, but whether it was because she was tied more closely to the living world, or just because she hadn’t gotten used to the idea of not sleeping yet, she still did.

And he would hold her, running her hair through his fingers, feeling her breathing, feeling her heart beat.

Just like they were both really alive.

But that morning, he knew this couldn’t go on. They both wanted this to be a real relationship—a return to real life—but the reality was, for them life was gone.

Britt still had eternity waiting for her. Something better than being stuck in a tiny cabin in the rain for all time, with a vengeful ghost who couldn’t rest.

And she was still in danger of killing innocent people, which she would never forgive herself for. He had to help her, no matter how much it cost him.

So he conjured some paper and pen and wrote her a note, and headed out into the storm.

Outside the Halloween circle it was a frosty morning, with the sun just rising. Britt’s scent was still part of him, as if it had permeated every cell of his body.

He’d turned down heaven when the panther god offered it to him, but this last couple of days had felt like it. Right there, in her enchanted cottage, just the two of them, naked and open to each other.

He’d never felt that even when he was alive, so maybe it fucking was heaven, sneaking up on him when he least expected it.

Except now he was on his way back to the crew, to get Squatch and Brock to help Britt figure out what was keeping her chained to the place where she’d lost her life.

Paving the way for her to leave him.

He knew that whatever she’d left undone was killing her soul. He recognized that anger in her—just like the part of him that screamed how unfair it was that he was dead, that he’d had more to do in his life.

More missions, more people to save. And maybe, after enough missions, enough lives saved, he would have gotten what Brandon and all the rest of them had.

A crew to rely on, maybe even a mate to love him.

Fuck, who was he trying to kid? There was no way he’d have trusted anyone enough for a true mate bond, or been willing to open himself up that much.

He survived because he was tough, and he trusted no one completely. He’d come the closest with Brandon, and even Brandon had let him down in the end.

Brandon hadn’t saved him.

The anger surged through him again. It urged him to find Jax, to follow that magnetic connection and figure out a way to kill that fucker dead.

Because otherwise it would turn itself on the people he loved.

He swiveled slowly in Jax’s direction, feeling the connection pulsing. Wanting retribution.

But he could still feel the touch of Britt’s lips on his skin, the way her arms around him soothed his soul and warmed his heart.