Spirited 1 (27 page)

At least Seth had delivered on his promise of good food. Too bad Jules had needed to eat one-handed in the car on the way back to April’s Flowers.

She leaned over the workbench and looked into the showroom. Where had Seth gone? While she appreciated that he’d given her space once she’d arrived at work, she hadn’t seen him in thirty minutes. Had he left?

Jules shifted off the stool where she’d been trying to wrap roses one-handed, a near-impossible task. The moment she stood, her arm itched like she’d been bitten by a dozen mosquitoes.

Unable to stand it, she grabbed a six-inch floral stick from the workbench and attempted to wedge it beneath the bandage to scratch the wretched itch. The danged stick snagged on the gauze. The green dowel protruded from the top of her bandage like a stem stripped of its leaves. She tugged and twisted, but the more she tried to remove the rod, the deeper it lodged.

“Can I help?” Seth’s amused voice floated in from the open doorway.

She turned her head to see his lips twitching. Amusement sparkled in his eyes. It would have been nice if she could have found the annoyance she had felt at being tricked; instead, her idiotic heart leapt at the sight of him.

I’m insane for reacting like this.

“I’ve got it,” she said, frowning at the dowel.

“Still mad at me for making you get stitches?” He chuckled.

“And the tetanus shot,” she reminded him. When he didn’t do more than stare at her, she gave him a mock frown that had him laughing. Her heart light at the sound, she admitted, “No. I’m not mad. You were . . . right.”

“Bet that was hard for you to admit.” He winked at her.

“You have no idea.” Her cheeks warmed.

This attraction didn’t make sense. They’d only known each other for a few days. Why was she so happy just to see him?

Okay, he was thoughtful. And sweet. He didn’t even press her to go to the station to file charges. He’d offered to take care of the paperwork for her. Cop or not, Seth truly was a gentleman.

And she was a freak with a stick stuck up her sleeve.

Blushing, she stared at the rod, then tugged again. It didn’t do more than make her arm burn. “Dang.”

“You sure I can’t help?” He moved closer to her but stopped when she shook her head. A moment of silence passed, then he asked, “Jules, would you be willing to meet with a sketch artist later today? I’ll go with you to the station.”

So much for Seth not pressuring her.

“I don’t see the point,” she said. “I told you and Dev what I saw. Can’t you tell her?”

“But
you
saw your mugger. We didn’t. You really need to be the one who talks to the artist.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you feel better if I had the sketch artist come here?”

“Can you do that?” Jules sighed, inadvertently inhaling his delicious masculine scent. Great, now her whole body sizzled with awareness of him.

“Yeah. I’ll arrange it,” Seth said.

But she focused on the way his lips moved.

As if noticing her stare, he gave her a cocky lopsided grin and licked his lips. It made her hungry for another taste of them. Oh yeah, he also kissed like a conquering warrior.

Her lips actually tingled at the remembered sensation of his mouth on hers. It had been hot and sweet and she wanted to do it all over again.

I’m a masochist.

Blushing, she gave him her back.

His feet slid across the tiled floor. Moments later, his breath feathered across her ear. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know he stood directly behind her. His heat radiated against her back and she struggled to remain upright. To not lean into all the warmth that seemed to beckon her closer.

“Let me help you, precious,” he whispered in husky tones. His arms wrapped around her waist and tugged her closer until her back was flush with his front. And oh my, he smelled even more delicious up close.

Gently, he turned her in his arms until they stood thigh to thigh, chest to chest. His eyes no longer twinkled with amusement. Instead they darkened with banked heat.

“Hold still,” he said in a tone so deep and gravelly it made her shiver. “One day you’re going to have to tell me why you’re so afraid of the police.”

“I’m not!”

“Shh . . .” He kissed the side of her head. “You are. I know it. I want to know why, but I can wait. I’m just glad you aren’t afraid of me.”

He was right. Jules wasn’t afraid of him. Anymore. “Not right now, okay?”

“Soon?”

“Soon,” she agreed.

One side of his mouth quirked up at the corner but otherwise he showed no reaction. “Don’t move.”

Carefully, he twisted the dowel between two fingers while he used his other hand to loosen the bandage. In seconds—several long she-couldn’t-remember-how-to-breathe seconds—she was free.

He dropped the stick on the workbench then pulled Jules into his arms. His touch was gentle, his movements measured and sure. And it made her heartbeat skip into triple digits.

“Thank you,” she whispered, then licked her lips.

“You’re welcome.” His eyes darkened even more but he didn’t make a move. Instead he said, “I’m working.”

“So am I.” She grinned at him. Rising up on her tiptoes, she tilted her face toward his.

He hesitated briefly, then lowered his head until their lips nearly touched. He didn’t kiss her right away. He smoothed his hands up and down her back, pulling her tighter against him. Yet he took care not to touch her injured arm.

This close, she could feel his arousal pressing against her lower belly through his slacks and she couldn’t resist sliding her body against his.

He groaned, licked his lips, and his hands moved a little less gently along her back. Seth might normally be in control, but at this moment, his control was slipping.

Her head swam with the heady sense of power. She wondered what he’d be like completely out of control. Last night she thought she’d experienced a taste of it. And like a narcotic, it made her crave more.

She wrapped one hand around his neck and pulled his mouth close enough to brush her lips against his. When he parted his lips on a moan of pleasure, she slipped her tongue inside and nearly moaned herself. He tasted of hazelnut coffee.

Her new favorite flavor.

He backed her up until her hips met the workbench. While her left arm had ached and throbbed only moments before, it didn’t hurt as much now. She slid her uninjured arm down his body and wrapped it around Seth’s waist. His hardness rubbing against her through their clothes heightened her excitement.

He shifted and his warm, large hands gently clasped her face, angling her head for the best access. He attempted to take over the kiss. But with every thrust of his tongue, she parried. The give-and-take of their kiss, the need to experience every nuance, every delicious moment, left her breathless. She turned her face to suck in air. Seth slid his mouth from her face to her neck and suckled gently. Shivers of electricity bolted through her.

“You taste so damn sweet. I could lick you all over,” Seth said against her neck. His hands trailed from her face to her shoulders and down her back. Almost before he’d whispered the words, he’d sent the fantasy winging into her mind.

Sexy and erotic, she wanted to revel in it. Heck, she wanted to strip him naked and experience it live.

As quickly as the images flashed in, they disappeared. Like a movie reel snapping at the theater, the fantasy zapped out of existence.

Then everything happened at once. Seth’s cell phone started ringing, the room temperature dropped, and Aimee-Lynn started shrieking incoherently.

Jules’s eyes flew open. The angry spirit hovered behind Seth. A crimson aura pulsed around her.

Hissing in pain from Aimee-Lynn’s wail slicing through her skull, Jules pulled back.

“Juliana, did I hurt you?” Seth examined her bandaged arm.

“It’s okay, I just need a minute,” Jules said, then gestured to Seth’s ringing phone. “Do you need to get that?”

She could barely hear herself speak over the ghostly cries shredding her eardrums.

Jerking the phone from his belt, Seth glanced at it and frowned. “Yeah, I do. Will you be all right?”

“Yep,” she replied.

He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

She was pretty sure that was what he’d said just before Seth strode out the back door, but Jules hadn’t actually heard him. The spirit’s cries blocked out all other sounds.

Jules hurried from the back room to the front and gasped. Aimee-Lynn’s murky red aura bled all over the showroom.

“Aimee-Lynn!” Jules focused her thoughts on reaching the angry ghost. “Calm down, I can’t understand you.”

Jules sent out the mental push repeatedly, but Aimee-Lynn didn’t appear to hear her. The shrieking continued, then the ghost gestured wildly.

At first, Jules thought Aimee-Lynn was trying to communicate with her. It took a moment for realization to sink in.

Aimee-Lynn appeared to be communicating with another ghost. One that Jules could barely make out. The second specter was little more than the silhouette of a man lying spread-eagle on the ground in the middle of the room. He jerked and shook as if he were being attacked by some unseen force. He slid violently left and right as if unseen beasts had latched on to his limbs and were playing tug-of-war.

Death-Bearers.

Terror sluiced through Jules. The Death-Bearers were the beasts that chased after evil souls and dragged them into hell. She’d learned about them after she’d seen them drag off her father’s business partner when she’d been nine years old. And she’d had nightmares for weeks afterward.

Aimee-Lynn’s wails reached near-glass-shattering decibels and the temperature in the room dropped about fifteen degrees.

Unmitigated rage and anguish hit Jules in the midsection like a punch.

The man’s silhouetted figure stopped jerking and he was dragged past Jules. A Death-Bearer glided close enough that her nose burned from the stench of sulfur. Its wicked presence had the hair on her forearms standing on end.

Jules wrapped her good arm around herself and fought to erect her mental shields. Her castle. She visualized the cold granite walls, high turrets, deep moat, and heavy drawbridge. And in front of the castle in a suit of gleaming armor stood Seth, sword drawn and ready to fight.

The cold menace dissolved at the same time the male silhouette vanished.

The room fell silent so fast, Jules’s ears popped. Instantly, the red aura washed away, replaced by the vivid greens, oranges, yellows, and blues of the plants and flowers in the showroom.

“He was my friend,”
Aimee-Lynn said in a small voice. The spirit stared off in the direction the ghostly man had been dragged before he vanished. She appeared to be talking to herself.
“He didn’t deserve that.”

Jules didn’t know who the friend was, but she bet he deserved where he was going.

Justice might be blind, but Karma’s a bitch with a big stick.
But Jules kept that thought to herself. At least, she thought she had until the ghost spun on her and pointed an accusatory finger.

Rage blazed in the spirit’s eyes and her mouth worked, but instead of words or shrieks, the only sound Jules heard was the hum of the refrigeration unit.

She took a step toward the ghost, wanting to help her. Jules winged her thoughts. “Aimee-Lynn, you need to calm down. I can’t hear you.”

“What are you doing here?” Diana said, striding in from the workroom.

Jules jumped in surprise. Aimee-Lynn vanished.

Her street clothes bundled under her arm, Diana had already dressed in her usual Goth gear and donned her April’s Flowers
apron.

“I didn’t see you come in. When did you get here?” Jules said, surprised her voice didn’t squeak.

“About five minutes ago.” Diana shoved her clothing bundle beneath the counter, then added, “I rode my bike, so I came in around back.” When Jules didn’t do anything more than stare, Diana added in a tone that said she thought Jules was mentally deficient, “So I could lock it up in the back room. You feeling all right?”

Honestly, no.
Jules started to put her hands behind her back, to hide their trembling before Diana noticed. Pain lanced up her arm because the motion pulled at her stitches. She let go and lightly patted the sore spot.

“What happened to you?” Diana asked, coming around the desk to where Jules stood with her back to the refrigeration case. “I got the message we were opening an hour late but I didn’t hear why.”

“I was—”

“WTF!” Diana cut her off. Eyes wide, she raced past Jules and yanked open the door of the refrigeration case. “These were perfect when I closed out last night, I swear! How did this happen? The chiller’s still working but
all
the flowers are dead.”

Jules gaped at the withered and brown roses, carnations, and calla lilies inside the case. The flowers had been vibrant when she’d arrived.

A cold, invisible finger stroked down the back of her neck. Jules didn’t need to turn to know it was Aimee-Lynn, but she did and swallowed hard at the sight.

In the past few days she’d seen the spirit angry, sad, frustrated, even afraid, but never had she seen the ghost as furious as she was now. Aimee-Lynn’s aura shifted from maroon to black and back again. An icy wind whipped through the room.

While Diana continued to fuss and search through the case for a viable flower, Jules braced herself. If Aimee-Lynn had the power to suck the life out of plants, who knew what else she was capable of in this state.

Determined to shield Diana from any harm, Jules took two silent steps toward the angry specter, who hovered in the middle of the showroom floor looking as if she might explode. She sent out a mental push. “What can I do?”

Aimee-Lynn’s aura rolled around her in thick black waves and she shrieked,
“Give it to him. Now!”

Overhead, the string of muted colored lights crisscrossing the room burst in rapid succession like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. Diana screamed and covered her head. Jules dove to cover Diana to protect her from the flying shards of glass.