Ghosted (Team Zero #3) by Rina Kent

Because of me.

This shift is all because of me.

It shouldn’t mean anything, but my heart is pounding against my ribs.

Kyle meets Julian’s glare with an easy smile. “I told you that I won’t unless –”

“She’s mine,” Julian enunciates. Then, he pauses. We stare at each other. The widening of his eyes matches my own. It’s as if he doesn’t believe what he just said, just like I’m not sure I heard it right.

Kyle’s grin widens to its fullest as he throws his hands in the air. “Grand.”

Julian ignores him and drags me behind him out of Le Salon’s main building, past the cut grass area and into the storehouse. I’m still so dazed that I show no reaction. Or perhaps it has to do with how warm and comforting Julian’s hand is around mine or how my pulse is almost leaping out of my throat.

The next thing, we’re in Julian’s room. The curtains are closed as though it’s night-time. The only light comes from the lamp on the nightstand.

Julian slams the door behind us and releases me. The golden ring is almost non-existent as his eyes zero in on me. “What the fuck were you doing, Elle?”

He’s cursing and using my name, which means he’s pissed off. Now that his touch isn’t numbing my reaction or messing with my defences, my own anger resurfaces.

I puff my chest forward. “What the fuck were you doing, huh? Who do you think you are to manhandle me and call me yours?”

“Elle...” he warns.

“What? What is it, Julian? I’m not an object.”

“I never thought of you as one!” He runs a tense hand through his hair. His still-agitated eyes roam over my body, and my skin heats as if being set on fire.

What. The. Hell?

“But I also never thought you were the type to mess with a player like Kyle.” He turns around, erasing me completely. “Maybe I read you all wrong.”

Tears flood my eyes, and I hate myself for them. I hate the weakness. The vulnerability. Why would I care how someone like Julian reads me? He’s only a stepping stone to find Zoe.

The more I tell myself that, the less it rings true.

He’s making me feel all these stupid emotions I swore would never pull me down. He’s that unexplainable itch I can’t seem to reach, no matter how much I want to.

So, instead of doing the most logical thing – ignore him and go back to Scar – I barge in front of him and point a finger at his chest. “How dare you talk about Kyle when you already have Mist? Mine? Give me a bloody break. What will I be? A mistress? A side dish? The flavour of the week?”

His brows furrow. “Mist and I aren’t in a relationship.”

I huff. “Could’ve fooled me with all those hours huddled in her office. You even drink everything she offers.”

An amused gleam shines in the golden ring of his eyes. His lips slightly twitch that I’ve begun to categorise as his version of a smile. “Are you jealous, Firefly?”

“Of course not!” I shout, and then, realising how defensive I sound, I slap a hand on my mouth.

I am jealous.

Mist is part of the itch. Every time I see her face, I don’t only think about how she could’ve been behind Zoe’s disappearance, but also about how I hate, hate, seeing her with Julian the whole damn time.

I don’t do jealousy. I never coveted anything to the point where I needed everyone to back off. But whenever I’m around that redhead witch, all I want to do is drag her down by that perfect hair.

What the hell is happening to me because of this man?

“If you say so.” Julian’s eyes are still shining. All the rage from earlier is gone. He seems to be enjoying getting on my nerves a lot more.

Infuriating bastard.

I release an irritated growl and head towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks in a clipped tone.

“I’m returning to Le Salon.”

“No, you’re not.” Julian clutches my wrist and pulls me back. I end up flush against his chest and staring up at those intense eyes.

“I have to work.” I try to squirm free, but his hold is relentless.

Or I’m not doing my best.

“Work starts at night,” he muses.

“But—”

I yelp when he flings my hand around his neck and carries me in his arms. I’m small against him, but for some strange reason, I don’t feel threatened. Tingles run down my spine.

I faintly remember the sensation when he carried me from that abandoned pub.

The safety. The relief.

There were some nagging words that bastard Johnny said, but for the life of me, I can’t remember them. All I recall is this sensation of softening. Of letting go.

It scares the hell out of me.

And yet, as Julian places me on the edge of the bed, my toes curl. He straightens, yanks his jacket off, and throws it on the chair. His strong fingers roll the sleeves of his shirt.

I can’t look away from how the shirt outlines his muscled body. How his presence fills the whole effing room and sucks the breath out of me. The more he rolls his sleeves, the more intricate tattoos appear on those strong, veiny arms.

Warmth invades me and anticipation shoots through my limbs. Excitement bubbles inside my chest and my mouth dries. Even my legs start bouncing. I force them to remain still.