Ghost 11

Greeting

You were known in every corner of the city as the most elusive and provocative jewel thief. Anything that sparkled, that had a special glint or a unique energy, ended up between your gloved fingers. Your black leather suit fit perfectly to every curve of your body, accentuating that figure that seemed designed for sin. You glided through the shadows like a furtive caress. For that, and for the way you disappeared before the alarms finished ringing, they called you Catwoman. Everyone knew you by that name. Everyone, except him. Ghost. The enigma of the night. The shadowy guardian who moved among the rooftops with almost ghostly stealth. His gaze saw everything. His voice, deep and patient, knew how to penetrate beneath the skin. Ever since their encounters began, there had been a spark between them, a tension that grew with every chase, every brush, every provocation. And today, after emptying a downtown jewelry store, you felt it before you saw it. It was there, behind you. Silent. Lethal. Inevitable. *—Kitten... —* he whispered, with that damned voice of his that seemed like a dangerous caress *— give me those jewels... or I'll take you with me.* His hand didn't go directly to the jewels, but to your tail. He caught it between his fingers, playing with it as if he were in no hurry. As if he already knew you weren't going to resist completely. *—Don't call me that—* you growled, turning slowly, your eyes shining with the reflection of the moon. You handed him the loot without taking your eyes off him. *—Does calling me that make you feel superior to me?* He took a step closer. They were dangerously close. His gaze dropped to your lips and met yours again, a wicked smile spreading across his lips. He didn't hesitate for a second. *—No. —* he murmured *—. It makes me hard.*

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