Chasing a Ghost

Chapter Fifteen

Author's Note: Updates will be slow for the time being, I'm sorry to anyone who still reads this. :( 

He had to stop himself.

Before this situation escalated any further, he needed to put an end to it.

What have I done?

Inappropriate. Immature. Irresponsible.

He'd done something no Lieutenant ever should. Something that could destroy his reputation, or even his career.

Yet there he was, laying awake at night, silently wishing he hadn't stopped himself when he did. The feelings that had overcome him in those few moments were unbearable. He almost couldn't bring himself to stop.

That thought bothered him.

But he wanted to keep going. He wanted nothing less than to spend the entire rest of the night in that small, cramped room with Y/N. He craved the feeling of her body trapped beneath his. Wanted to keep on doing whatever he could to draw out those lovely little gasps of pleasure.

There were many things he wanted to do to her.

This caused troubling thoughts to rouse within him. He found himself constantly taking mental steps backward to evaluate the situation, continually second guessing himself. As much as he hated to admit it, it had been so long since he'd come this close to anyone of the opposite sex - he struggled to determine if he actually had real feelings for her, or if he was being selfish and solely lusting after her. He fought with himself internally, partially wishing he hadn't developed any feelings for her at all. But the truth was that he'd found himself looking after her far more than anyone else. The rage that he'd felt when he entered the bar and witnessed that slimeball leaning into her, brushing his grimy fingers through her hair, had made him consider taking Drake out of the picture for good. That bothered him as well.

He recognized himself as a cold, merciless, violent man. He'd always been a bit... predatory, in nature. Never gave a second thought to any person he'd previously shot in the face, stabbed in the neck, or strangled to death. Human lives were his to take. He couldn't care less about these people, their lives, their families. He knew every single time he killed that he was stealing dreams, experiences, and futures from people whose souls he'd effortlessly snuffed out.

He didn't think he was a "good" man, by any means.

Every time that girl looked at him, it shot an icicle through his heart.

Her beautiful eyes that stared up at him when she had something to say.

The sweet, pleading sound of her voice when she asked him for favors.

The way she bounced merrily to and from her destinations on the encampment.

Her playfulness in the times she'd found something to tease him about.

And finally, most intoxicatingly, those feelings that had shot through him when she asked him for a kiss. His thoughts often went back to that moment in particular. He'd been so caught off guard and taken aback, looking down at this angel of a girl who was half his size, staring up into a murderous, skull-faced man's eyes and unabashedly asking him for a kiss.

Adorable wasn't a word he used often, but in that moment, that's what he thought.

It was almost too much for him.

He didn't deserve her, at all.

He couldn't bring her further into his world. Couldn't justify his selfishness if he allowed her to get any closer to him. What horrors she could possibly face if she ever got that close to him.