The Ghost Hunter (12 page)

Read The Ghost Hunter Online

Authors: Lori Brighton

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Paranormal, #Vampires, #Angels, #Ghosts

BOOK: The Ghost Hunter
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Ashley surged to her feet, so surprised she could barely contain herself. “What?”

Camile shrugged, unconcerned. Obviously not realizing the importance of her words “To Heaven, or whatever it is afterward.”

Of course she was unconcerned because she apparently didn’t know the truth. “That can’t be right. They don’t want to go to Heaven, he was quite adamant that he didn’t want to go to the other side.”

Suspicion sparked to life in her green eyes and Ashley immediately realized her mistake. “He
told
you this?”

How she wished the floor would open and swallow her whole. “Well…I…” Frantic, she tried to come up with an excuse, but found herself floundering, sinking fast.

Camile leaned closer, her face alight with possibility. “Can you talk to ghosts?”

Ashley stepped back, feeling the sudden urge to flee. “I…” God, there was no way to escape without making things worse. Besides, she was tired of hiding. “Maybe.”

Camile’s mouth dropped open. “Balls! So you
are
like us!”

Horrified, Ashley took another step back. “What? No! Not at all.” How could Camile even think that? No way she was anything like these freaks.
 

Camile started toward her, her steps quick and sure. “You can talk to ghosts, see them…I’d say you’re different all right.”

She said it so casually, as if it was something to be proud of. For one moment, Ashley almost believed her. “How do you know I’m not just insane?”

Camile shrugged, her gaze serious. “How do you know I’m not?”

Ashley didn’t respond. How could she? Maybe Camile was insane. Hell, maybe they all were. Camile lifted the lid of her box and stuffed the cards inside.

“Well, whether you want to believe it or not, your ghost has gone onto the other side.” She leaned her hip against the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “And whether you want to believe it or not, you
are
like me.”

Chapter 14
 

 

 

The house was silent, always too silent. But Cristian knew what lurked underneath that silence. He’d seen what could happen; life had taught him to never underestimate and his nightmare had been a reminder of the evil that lurked in this home. An evil he needed to destroy.

Or had it been Ashley’s nightmare? He paused in the middle of what had once been a stately parlor as the woman came so easily to mind. The feel of her soft skin. The scent of her…warm vanilla. The taste of her…

His body grew hard, lust surging to his groin. How he’d wanted to take her last night, make her his own. Claim her, and kill anyone would dare to touch her. It was unnatural, animalistic, almost, and it was a sin for him to even think of having her. Yet, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

He swung his sword wide, the blade flashing in the sunlight coming through the open windows. He attempted to concentrate on his movements but his mind and body remained focused on her. He felt her crawling inside of him, a virus that had invaded his blood.

The more time he spent with her, the more his senses seemed to awaken when she was near so that without her, he felt a pale, numb reflection of himself. He knew when she was sleeping, knew when she was awake…Hell, he was jolly fucking Santa Claus.

Even now he felt her coming closer, knew she was near even before he saw her stroll across the front garden. He felt her move into the house, felt her pause in the foyer. It wasn’t right, damn it all. He’d always worked alone. She was supposed to help, not hinder.

She waited there on the other side of the door and whether she knew it or not, she sensed him as well. Why else would she pause directly outside this room when he hadn’t made a sound? She was drawn to him as he was to her. Would they be forever connected? Or if she left, would things return to normal? She turned the handle and the door squeaked open. He forced himself to turn his back to her, to continue to swipe that sword in long, practiced strokes.

He didn’t need to face her to know she was watching him move, watching his muscles flex and bulge. Like last night, he wore only shorts and the sunlight would highlight his tattoos until they practically burst from his back. Cristian closed his eyes as he resisted the urge to turn, to step closer to her like a druggie looking for a fix. His drug of choice? Woman. Very hot Ashley.

He lifted his sword high and held it…just held it pointed toward the ceiling, mentally cursing the heavens. “Ms. Hunter, I’m starting to wonder if ye have a real problem with spying.”

She was quiet for one long moment, but she didn’t need to say a word, he knew what she was thinking about… last night. “It’s good to know what my tenants are doing, especially when they’re tenants like you.”

Her husky voice sent his senses reeling. He lowered the sword and turned, a smile playing across his lips. Unable to help himself, his gaze boldly caressed her body, taking in the shorts and t-shirt that clung to her curves. Damn, but she was all woman…dips and lush mountains of woman. Her shorts hung low on her hips showing just a peek of belly where her gray t-shirt didn’t quite reach the waistband. How he wanted to draw that shirt higher, to lick that taunt skin.
 

“Hmm, yer using that excuse again?”

She narrowed her gaze. “Fine.” She tilted her chin high, feigning arrogance but he could see the frantic search for an explanation written across her face. The woman couldn’t lie to save her life. “I want to know what it means, the saying on your sword. It sounds familiar.”

Ah, so she’d grasped at that. Well then, he’d play along. “
All hope abandon ye who enter here?”

She nodded.

He smiled fleetingly. He’d bite to give her time, hell, to give himself time…time to collect his muddled thoughts. “It’s my motto…of sorts.”

She laughed, a lovely chuckle that traveled across the room and burrowed deep within his soul. “Lovely motto. Evokes all sorts of good will. Where’d you get it?”

“Dante. The supposed inscription at the entrance to Hell.”

She looked away from him, a wariness flickering across her gaze that he didn’t much care for. For some odd, inexplicable reason he wanted her to trust him. She’d had so few people to trust during her short life.

“And it just keeps getting better.”
She pushed away from the wall and started toward him. “I’m curious as to why you train so much.”

Feigning ease, he spun the sword around and around, the blade flashing in the light. “To keep in shape.”

She stopped a good distance away from him, a safe distance. “Right. Why do I think there’s more?”

He paused for one moment, the desire to tell her the truth overwhelming. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “Because ye have a very paranoid mind.” Casually, he moved away from her and toward that leather bag that lay on the floor. Time to try once more to scare her off. “Ye know, it might do ye good to know how to use a sword.”

“Ha, you just said I was paranoid and now you want me to fight?”

“Nay, prepare ye. If yer ready for anything, ye’ll be much less paranoid.” He reached into the bag and pulled out another sword, this one completely silver. “Here.” He started toward her.

She stepped back, shaking her head. “Uh, what do you want me to do with that?”

“Hold it? Play with it?” He grinned, taunting her.

She narrowed her eyes, apparently not finding him amusing in the least. “I don’t think so.”

He shoved the sword into her hand. Before she could think better, she grasped the hilt. The handle was wrapped in thick leather, but the weight made the blade slip. She looked too small, too innocent to be holding such a weapon. She shifted, tightening her grip, trying to make the weight feel natural in her hands. She obviously had no experience with weapons and that worried him more than he wanted.

“Okay, now what?” she asked.

“We play.”

She looked at him in exasperation. “Play? What you were doing didn’t look like play.”

He strolled to the middle of the room. The woman wouldn’t admit her powers, hadn’t a clue how to hold a weapon, apparently had no family or friends. She was worse than he’d expected. He would not, could not, tell her the truth until she admitted what she was. Determination settling through his body, he turned to face her. Her eyes grew wide, for a moment he thought she’d drop the sword and run from the room. If she couldn’t even face him, then how could he expect her to help when the time was needed?

She skittered back a step. “Uh, yeah, listen, I have no experience with swords.”

Not shocking. He started toward her, his body moving of its own accord. By God, he was tired of this nonsense. Tired of her distrust, tired of the way his body wanted so badly to be close to her while his mind and soul warned him to stay away. She was mortal and she would eventually fall. If he let himself get emotionally involved, her demise would be his. He’d seen it happen with his own father.

She took yet another step back. “Seriously.”

Yet still he kept coming, his burning need more than he could stand. She stood her ground, glaring up at him.

He lifted a brow and shook his head, feigning nonchalance when he feared he was very close to going mad. “We’re merely practicing. Tis not a big deal.”

Brave lass, she stood her ground, her fingers shifting over the hilt. Or perhaps she realized she had nowhere to run. His lips turned upward into a slow smirk as he lifted the sword high. He’d teach her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget, or damn it all, he’d send her back to the States where she belonged. Her eyes widened and instinctively she brought her sword up just as his swooped down. The blades came together with a clang. Vibrations trembled up her arms with such force that she stumbled back into the wall, but she kept to her feet. Reluctantly, he was impressed with her fortitude, but he didn’t dare step back and give her room to recuperate.

Taking in a deep breath, she pushed away and regained her balance enough to glare at him. “What’s your problem?”

“The problem is that you have no idea what’s truly out there.” He looked her up and down and sneered, when what he really wanted to do was latch onto her arms and jerked her up against his chest. “Ye’ll have to go on the offense if ye wish to survive.”

“Survive?”

“So to speak.” He turned his back to her and strolled to the middle of the room, letting his dire words simmer in her thoughts. God, the urge to tell her the truth overwhelmed him. But would she be able to accept it? Doubtful. She couldn’t even accept the fact that she could see spirits.

“Now then.” He lifted the sword. “Shall we once more?”

Before she could respond he came at her with such speed, she barely had enough time to get her sword up and block his blow. The same vibrations rang through her body and she stumbled back. This time, he didn’t give her any opportunity to recuperate. Just as quickly as she’d brought her sword up to block his hit, he was spinning around and bringing his sword down upon her again.

A strangled gasp slipped from her lips as she grappled with the hilt, attempting to block his blow. She wouldn’t get her sword up in time. Her face went white and she froze. She watched, wide-eyed as his silver blade came toward her….

It stopped only an inch from her throat.

For one long moment she merely stared at the sword, while he stared at her, waiting to see how she’d react. She recovered well enough, Cristian was glad to see. She didn’t waste any time in jumping back.

“Damn you!” She let her sword fall from her grasp, the metal clanging to the wooden floor. Tears shimmered in her eyes, bringing forth unwanted feelings of guilt. “This isn’t some joke.”

As if to prove her point, she shoved him in the chest. He didn’t budge. He hardened his heart, refusing to be swayed by her emotions.

“No, it’s not. And it’s about time ye realized that.” He lifted his sword again, his anger mounting. “Pick up yer weapon.”

“Are you insane?” she demanded. “Cristian, please, listen to reason.”

Reason? She had no clue what was out there. If he accomplished anything, he had to make her realize the danger she was in. He dropped his arms to his side and stepped closer to her, so close, her breath was hot on his face. He should have been angry, instead he wanted to pull her to his chest and protect her. He wanted to shake her and make her listen to reason.

“I’m being reasonable. Ye have no idea what’s out there, what ye must guard yerself from.”

She pressed her hands to his chest, a pathetic barrier. At the contact, heat seeped into his body, tingling his skin and making him think of nothing more than touching her completely, having her fully.

“How can you be so heartless?” she asked softly, her voice full of emotion, full of empathy and he wanted no part in it. “What happened to you?”

He dropped his sword to the ground with a clang. Before she could escape, he pushed her up against the wall with his body. “Ye happened to me.”

His mouth crushed to hers in a stunning kiss. Ashley didn’t react, merely stood there while his lips pressed to hers and his body held her against the wall. His mouth was hard, demanding she respond. Sleepless nights, dreams of passion and last night’s taste of what could be all taunted him. With a groan, he slipped his tongue between her lips. He knew he should stop, should pull back, but then her hands crept up his bare chest and an unidentifiable emotion bloomed deep within him, an animalistic need to have her.
 

She sank into him, giving her all. Heat pulsed through his body, thrumming through his veins in a dizzying whirl. In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to push away, to stop this ridiculous nonsense, but he couldn’t seem to focus on that rational part. Instead, his tongue met hers, thrust for thrust.

He wedged his knee between her thighs, frantic with the need to ease his torment. Without hesitation, he ground his pelvis to hers, his erection hard and throbbing. She groaned against his mouth, her hands slipping into his hair, urging him to rock even more. The man in him wanted to ease his lustful need. But the beast inside of him hungered for more, hungered for all of her…he wanted to touch every inch of her body, kiss everywhere, know her completely.
 

Sinful lust pounded through his blood, burning through his veins. He wanted to tear off those shorts, to rip aside those insignificant panties and press his erection between her wet, warm folds. He wanted her. Wanted to be inside of her completely, without restriction…to take her and lose himself in the wonder. He wanted her soul.
 

His fingers found the hem of her shirt and he jerked the thin cotton material up, over her head, barely breaking their kiss. Her soft, plump breasts pressed to the white satin of her bra, her nipples beaded and hard.

“Lovely,” he whispered.

He pulled the bra down and took a rosy nipple between his lips. Ashley whimpered, arching her back as her fingers spread through his hair, cupping the back of his head and bringing him closer. His tongue found that rosy peak and licked, tormented, until she panted above him.

Lower he moved, his fingers finding the button at her waistband, while his mouth pressed kisses to her flat belly. He jerked her shorts to her knees.

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