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Authors: Nancy Corrigan
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Sunlight peeked around the edges of the heavy drapes. It didn’t bother her.
She’d trained her body to sleep in full sunlight without fear of being woken by
the glare. Sometimes she did so just to add a little color to her pale skin.
With her platinum hair, she often looked washed out. Today, she didn’t want to
leave the shades open and risk a redcap seeing the mark on her palm. Unlikely,
but Calan’s warning forced her to take extra precautions.
The triple locks on all the doors were secured. The windows
were bolted and she had her dagger and a gun within reach. The small revolver
wouldn’t kill a redcap or a sluagh, but it’d slow them down. She’d learned to
embrace everything that gave her an advantage.
Assured she was as safe as she’d get, she cradled her hand
and stared at the swooping X, though the description didn’t quite fit the
symbol. The lines didn’t bisect at the middle. The curved edges overlapped so a
small circle formed at the center. She traced them as she’d done countless
times since she’d left Calan’s prison. No tingles accompanied the exploration
nor did she feel the flare of the taint she carried.
Eyes closed, she reached inside herself—something she’d
learned normal people couldn’t do after a few awkward moments with her family—and
examined the evidence of Calan’s touch. A silky, shimmering second skin wrapped
around her heart and spread out to coat every organ and vein.
She examined it from all angles, then used a metaphysical
hand to stroke it. Warm and alive, the glaze pulsed with life. The scent of a
smoky campfire wafted around her with the simple stroke. Calan. She
could taste him on her tongue too. She pulled back, more confused than ever.
The intimate connection to him shouldn’t be possible.
“What did he do to me?”
Let me shield you from the taint your father left on you. His words echoed in her head.
Realization struck. She gasped.
He’d imprinted himself on her, for lack of a better term.
That was why she could feel him even with the distance separating them.
“He saved me.”
Or started the process, according to him, and now awaited
her return to finish it. By making love to me? She shook her head at the
wanton thought but very much hoped it was the truth. The romantic aspect of it
brought a breathy sigh to her lips.
She tugged off her clothes and tossed them on the couch. The
cool air in her house did nothing to ease the flush sensitizing her skin. The
desire she’d experienced in Calan’s arms hadn’t eased in the hours since she’d
left him. If anything, it had gotten worse. Her aroused body begged for
release.
The fantasies she’d indulged in for years all centered on
her ghost man. Seeing him, touching him and finding pleasure at his hands had
proved her dreams paled in comparison to the real thing. Knowing firsthand what
it felt like to embrace her carnal urges, she craved more.
She curled her hands and fought the desire to give herself a
little relief from the raging needs swamping her. It wasn’t right. While she
sat in her living room, naked and aroused, he hung from chains in pain.
She’d caught glimpses of torture from his mind when he’d
invaded hers. Images of burning alive, drowning and being repeatedly stabbed
had flashed across her eyes. He’d yanked the pictures away as if he hadn’t
meant for her to see them, but she suspected it was part of his suffering, what
he’d alluded to enduring for centuries. Real or illusionary? She couldn’t be
sure but his anxiety of the scenes had resonated through her.
She wanted to run back to his side and release him, exactly
as he’d ordered her. She resisted. Caution. The word had saved her too many
times for her to ignore her golden rule because she lusted for a man who might
condemn her to the same torment he suffered.
No, if what she suspected held true, he wouldn’t be able to
harm her without hurting himself too. She carried a piece of him much the same
way she did the
She’d trained her body to sleep in full sunlight without fear of being woken by
the glare. Sometimes she did so just to add a little color to her pale skin.
With her platinum hair, she often looked washed out. Today, she didn’t want to
leave the shades open and risk a redcap seeing the mark on her palm. Unlikely,
but Calan’s warning forced her to take extra precautions.
The triple locks on all the doors were secured. The windows
were bolted and she had her dagger and a gun within reach. The small revolver
wouldn’t kill a redcap or a sluagh, but it’d slow them down. She’d learned to
embrace everything that gave her an advantage.
Assured she was as safe as she’d get, she cradled her hand
and stared at the swooping X, though the description didn’t quite fit the
symbol. The lines didn’t bisect at the middle. The curved edges overlapped so a
small circle formed at the center. She traced them as she’d done countless
times since she’d left Calan’s prison. No tingles accompanied the exploration
nor did she feel the flare of the taint she carried.
Eyes closed, she reached inside herself—something she’d
learned normal people couldn’t do after a few awkward moments with her family—and
examined the evidence of Calan’s touch. A silky, shimmering second skin wrapped
around her heart and spread out to coat every organ and vein.
She examined it from all angles, then used a metaphysical
hand to stroke it. Warm and alive, the glaze pulsed with life. The scent of a
smoky campfire wafted around her with the simple stroke. Calan. She
could taste him on her tongue too. She pulled back, more confused than ever.
The intimate connection to him shouldn’t be possible.
“What did he do to me?”
Let me shield you from the taint your father left on you. His words echoed in her head.
Realization struck. She gasped.
He’d imprinted himself on her, for lack of a better term.
That was why she could feel him even with the distance separating them.
“He saved me.”
Or started the process, according to him, and now awaited
her return to finish it. By making love to me? She shook her head at the
wanton thought but very much hoped it was the truth. The romantic aspect of it
brought a breathy sigh to her lips.
She tugged off her clothes and tossed them on the couch. The
cool air in her house did nothing to ease the flush sensitizing her skin. The
desire she’d experienced in Calan’s arms hadn’t eased in the hours since she’d
left him. If anything, it had gotten worse. Her aroused body begged for
release.
The fantasies she’d indulged in for years all centered on
her ghost man. Seeing him, touching him and finding pleasure at his hands had
proved her dreams paled in comparison to the real thing. Knowing firsthand what
it felt like to embrace her carnal urges, she craved more.
She curled her hands and fought the desire to give herself a
little relief from the raging needs swamping her. It wasn’t right. While she
sat in her living room, naked and aroused, he hung from chains in pain.
She’d caught glimpses of torture from his mind when he’d
invaded hers. Images of burning alive, drowning and being repeatedly stabbed
had flashed across her eyes. He’d yanked the pictures away as if he hadn’t
meant for her to see them, but she suspected it was part of his suffering, what
he’d alluded to enduring for centuries. Real or illusionary? She couldn’t be
sure but his anxiety of the scenes had resonated through her.
She wanted to run back to his side and release him, exactly
as he’d ordered her. She resisted. Caution. The word had saved her too many
times for her to ignore her golden rule because she lusted for a man who might
condemn her to the same torment he suffered.
No, if what she suspected held true, he wouldn’t be able to
harm her without hurting himself too. She carried a piece of him much the same
way she did the
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