Phantasma (Wicked Games, #1)

by Kaylie Smith

“This is gorgeous,” she said as she gaped down at the elaborate garment, brushing her hands over the butter-soft fabric of the skirts. “Where is it from?” “My fantasies.” He winked.

Her mother’s grave was probably nearing seven feet deep with how many times she’d made the woman roll over in the past week.

“Your wish is my command.”

“You learn to tolerate it,” he said. “Sort of like your personality?” she quipped. He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you admitting I’m not so bad?”

“You have pretty eyes.” He reached out and cupped her face, brushing his thumb across the apple of her own cheek. “So do you.”

“You… and I…” “Need to sober up before there’s any more kissing,” he said firmly, pulling away.

In the silence she softly brushed her fingers through his hair, sifting through the strands at the nape of his neck to admire all the silver threaded throughout the white. She’d never known anyone with such striking features as his, and something inside her was saddened that soon enough she wouldn’t know him any longer either. That one day she might forget how vibrant a green his eyes were. The way his smirk was slightly crooked on the left. The sound of her name on his lips. The way he called her angel. The way he kissed her and how she was positive no one else would ever be able to live up to that experience.

“Go back to sleep, angel,” he murmured. “Right now, I’m here.”

and every time she made a particularly good shot, he rewarded her with a dazzling smile.

“There’s this whole bit with collars and chains… you wouldn’t happen to enjoy being choked, would you?”

“I’m kidding, angel,” he snorted. “But if you ever get curious, I’m always game to try anything

“If I get to choose the reward, may I suggest you get on your knees again?”

“As it turns out, I don’t like being choked,” she muttered. Blackwell shrugged. “Not by metal collars at least.”

“Men are always useless

“So, maybe I don’t want to just be a distraction to you.”

“Touch me,” she breathed. “Please.” He lifted a brow. “I thought you said you’d never beg me for anything?”

“Reach up and grab the headboard,”

“I need a distraction, yes,” she admitted. And then, “But more than that—I want you. Even though I shouldn’t. You make me feel…”

“Good. Safe.” Her locket warmed, its pulse becoming more erratic with every word she confessed. “Not so alone. I want you.” “Then you’ll have me,”

“Ophelia,” he grunted. “Fuck, angel, I never want to be anywhere else but right here. Inside you.”

“I think you might be the closest to heaven I’ll ever get,” he whispered.

“Blackwell?” “Yes, angel?”

She had been on the verge of unraveling for a while, but now she was crashing headfirst and she was determined to bring him there with her.

“I feel less alone with you, too.”

I think maybe I’m falling for you.

He looked so devilishly handsome that she had half a mind to damn it all to Hell and drag him back into bed, and that was exactly the problem.

We cannot become attached to each other. I cannot want you like this. You leave for an hour, and I’m craving your company. That’s not just foolish, it’s dangerous. And I cannot rely on you to save me from everything when in less than six days I will never see you again.”

But most of all she shed tears for herself. And the soft heart she would never have again.

It was of her and Blackwell, sitting in the drawing room of Grimm Manor. Him sitting upright with a book in his hand, her lying on her side with her head pillowed in his lap as she read her own novel.

“I need you to know if I had heard you, there would have been nothing that could’ve stopped me from getting to you. Hell, nothing did stop me from getting to you. I went looking for you because I got the strangest feeling that something was wrong. I had every intention of respecting your request for space until then.”

“Jealousy is a sexy color on you. Almost as sexy as blood.”

Because of my limited recollection, I barely know myself.”

“You are apparently anything but forgettable.”

“You forgot the first time we met,” she reminded him. “Did I?”

“Because I felt you the moment you stepped into Phantasma. It was an undeniable, magnetic pull that led me to finding you that first day. Yanking on that door, making conversation with a cat, dressed in blood.” A soft smile began to curl at the corners of his lips at the memory. “I wanted to offer you my bargain then and there, but I knew I had to be patient. So, I made myself leave you, determined to give you spa...

But it’s you I am drawn to, Ophelia. You claim that I told you to stay away from here the very first time we met. Then you were erased from my memories and yet…” he shook his head with slight disbelief, “… yet we still found our way back to each other. Because even with my memory gone, you marked me somehow.”

You… you figured out that imposter in level two wasn’t me and you had barely known me for three days. I can’t think of any other person who knows a single thing about me. I am honored that I have gotten to spend this time with you. I only wish we had more.”

I don’t own you.”

“No. I don’t want space,” she breathed. “I want anything but space.”

Their collision was earth-shattering.

“I promise you’ll prefer where my mouth is going next.”

He made her feel safe to explore him without worry of judgment or fear.

“Eyes up for me, angel.”

“If there were ever a divine entity I’d worship,” he murmured, “it’d be you.” “My body, your altar,” she offered.

“Lover Ghost,

“He gave up three years of his memories for this information.

your choice.”

“How is any of what you just heard okay? Especially when you and I are apparently just repeating history!”

Loving him will only ruin you.

But I’m my own person. We won’t have the same fate⁠—” “You’re right, we won’t,”