The Ghost Hunter (31 page)

“Ash?” Camile touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

Ashley shook her head, stepping away from them. Tears were pooling in her wide eyes, tears that broke his heart anew.

“No,” she whispered.
 

Without another word, she turned and raced up the steps, disappearing into the kitchen. Cristian could only stand there and let her go.
  

“Ashley,” Cristian’s voice was soft, almost unsure. A hesitant tone that she’d never heard from him before.

Slowly, Ashley lifted her head from her knees, needing to see him. Darkness shrouded his broad shoulders, making him appear fierce and inhuman. But his eyes, those piercing eyes, showed his emotions. He looked at her as if searching for something. Something she worried she couldn’t give him.
 

Ashley sat in the middle of the bed,
their
bed as she now thought of it, and wasn’t sure how to feel about his appearance, afraid when she looked at him, she’d see his father. But only Cristian stood there. Beautiful, honorable Cristian.

God, how she wanted him to hold her, but how could she rejoice in his touch when
Devon
suffered? “How’d you find me?”

He gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The bond.”

It took a moment for her to remember what he meant. So, he could locate her with this bond? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, she wasn’t sure how she felt about anything anymore.

They had failed because she was pathetic, just as the demon had said. Perhaps Cristian was right and she should have left when she could. No. If she had left, Cristian might have killed himself and she could not even think about that possibility.
 

He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments then looked at her, his feelings apparent in his gaze. A desperation that sent her heart racing, that tightened her insides with a need so intense, she thought she’d die.
 

“I tried,” he whispered desperately. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, jerking her gaze away from him and staring out the windows into the dark night. If she kept looking at him she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to take it any longer. God, she needed him. But did he need her? He’d been so willing to sacrifice himself and leave her behind. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He was silent and she knew her response fell on deaf ears. Cristian was a martyr and martyrs always blamed themselves if something went awry.

“Why would Devon do that?” she whispered. “He was weak.” Even she knew that Devon couldn’t keep the demon contained for long.

Cristian moved further into the cottage, closing the door behind him, trapping them together once more. Even over her pain, she was completely aware of his body, the way he filled the room. She took comfort in his presence. “In his physical state he was weak. In his spiritual he’s much stronger.”

He’d last longer then she thought, but how long? How long before the demon consumed him? Guilt ripped through her anew. Because of her, Devon was in hell, suffering.

“It wasn’t yer fault,” he whispered.

Surprised, her gaze jumped to Cristian. “Can you read my mind too?” She was half-joking.

He shrugged, not looking the least bit bashful. “Yer feelings.”

She retained enough of her right mind to know that fact should have bothered her. Yet it didn’t. Perhaps because her feelings did not seem her own lately. Would she ever feel happiness again? Would she ever watch a sunrise with the same sense of awe and wonder? Or would she constantly think about the evil that pulsed beneath it all. She closed her eyes briefly. She didn’t want to think about evil or death. She wanted Cristian to hold her, to tell her everything would be all right.

“He should have let me go. His vendetta fulfilled.” He moved to the windows, his broad back to her. He’d cleaned, changed into a new t-shirt and jeans while she sat simmering in her ripped t-shirt and dirty leggings. She could see Cristian’s reflection in the dark panes, a reflection filled with pain and confusion. “His love for you superseded his hatred for me.”

But she knew it was more than that. She looked away. Devon had taken himself out of the picture because he knew she loved Cristian. He was giving them the chance to be together. Her heart clenched, a sob catching in the back of her throat. She pressed her fists to her mouth as renewed pain clawed its way through her body.

“Ashley,” he whispered. “I’ve given you time to accept what has happened, time to mourn. Do you need more time alone?” He seemed so confused over her emotional state. Confused, but it was obvious he wanted to understand.

She shook her head. The numbness was slowly dissipating and she didn’t want to feel, she didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want the pain to return. “Please, no excuses, no more what if’s.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, kneeling by the bed.

Reluctantly, she met his gaze.
 

“What then, should I say?”
 

Her heart hammered in her chest. The pain gave way to need. Raw and consuming need. “Say that you want me.”

His gaze grew warm, the silver color melting. “Of course I want ye. I want ye more than ye could possibly know.”

Without hesitation, she slipped from the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Desperate to
feel
again, she pressed her mouth to his. He didn’t pull away. Thank God, he didn’t refuse. With a low growl, he clamped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight to his body, molding her form to his.

His mouth was harsh. There was no gentle need in the way he kissed her, but a fierce desire to take what was his. And she was his. Even without their bond, she’d been his from the beginning. She knew this as much as she knew she wanted him forever.
 

Emotion bombarded her body, sending her senses spinning. Too soon he pulled back, just enough room to toss his t-shirt aside. Her legs grew weak. Unable to resist, her hands moved over his chiseled chest, her fingers caressing the valleys and mountains of muscle. She wanted to memorize every inch of his form, to touch every inch, to kiss every inch. He shuddered, his breath catching. Heady with delight, she looked into his eyes, surprised by his reaction, by the power she seemed to hold over this man, this angel.

He slipped his arm around her waist and lifted her. Although his gaze was as intense as before, there was a softness underneath, a softness that sent her heart fluttering. No fear, no worry, no pain. Merely she and Cristian together.

He laid her upon the bed, following. His hard body molded to hers, weighing down on her. Gently, he cupped the sides of her face and peered into her eyes. She saw the emotion there, in his gaze. He hadn’t said he loved her, but it was obvious he cared. Her throat grew thick and she had to fight her tears. She would not cry, not now of all times.

Impatient, she sat upright and tossed her t-shirt aside. Their hands bumped as they moved quickly, frantic to be skin to skin. Cristian tossed one piece of clothing to the floor, then another, and another until only her bra and panties remained. Deftly, he undid the clasp and the flimsy piece fell to the side. Her nipples hardened, her breasts growing heavy under his gaze.

“How I want ye.”

Her body quivered as if he’d touched her. This time there was no ghost to interrupt. This time she’d have him completely. A low ache spread down her body. She wanted him to touch her, move his hands over her skin, make her feel alive.

“Beautiful,” he murmured and she believed him.

His hand cupped her nape, his fingers entwining in her hair and gently he tilted her head back. His mouth found hers. He leaned into her, pushing her into the mattress with his body. A slow, torturous descent. His hard chest crushed to her breasts, his flesh so warm and lovely that she sighed into his mouth. Touching him, feeling his touch, was like finally finding her way home.

His familiar scent assaulted her, taking control of her senses and sending heat deep to the pit of her belly. He smelled of night, of dew, of leather and the muskiness of male. She groaned and shifted under his body, trying to feel more of him. With her thighs parted, she pressed her pelvis to his silky-hard erection.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, his hands stroking her back, lower toward her ass. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her thighs. Quickly he tossed the rest of his clothing aside. He was naked. Completely naked, and he was gorgeous. Those broad shoulders, those abs, his erection…hard and glorious.

“God, I want you.” He knelt atop her and found her mouth again.

As their tongues met, he cupped her bottom and pulled her up against his cock. Her arms slipped around his waist and she moved her hands up and down his back, playing with the muscles. She couldn’t get enough. She wanted to feel every inch of his body, to know every inch.

She shifted, rubbing her thighs against him, impatient to have more. “Cristian.”

“Ashley,” he breathed, resting his forehead to hers. “Slow down, luv.”
 

“Why?” she whispered, pressing light kisses to the corners of his mouth.

He laughed, a soft, shaky chuckle. “I’m stronger than ye. I’m afraid—”

He was afraid of hurting her. The realization was so achingly sweet, that her heart flared with life, with hope, with love. She growled low in her throat and slipped her fingers into his hair, jerking his head toward her. She caught his mouth, sucking his bottom lip between her teeth. He groaned his acceptance and she knew she had him.

She made quick work of thrusting her tongue into the warmth of his mouth. He tasted clean, sweet, and that same dizzying sense of drunkenness she always felt when she kissed him washed over her. Never would she forget the feel of him. He’d be permanently burned into her soul for the rest of her life.

He pulled away and pressed his lips to her neck, lower still to her chest. When he took a nipple into his mouth, she thought she’d die. Ashley clutched at his hair, tightening her hold and arching her back. Pleasure ripples wavered through her body, centering between her legs. It was too much, too sensitive, yet at the same time she craved his touch, she craved his mouth on her body. She wanted to be surrounded by him, by his touch, his scent, his need.

He moved lower, pressing his heated lips to her belly. Her stomach quivered, her eyes rolling back into her head. His hard erection pressed to the inside of her legs, so silky smooth she couldn’t resist rubbing against it.

“Cristian, kiss me.” Her fingers curled into the sheets.

He moved up her body, staring down into her eyes while his fingers slipped between her sleek folds. Soft murmurs of pleasure parted her lips. He leaned into her body, his hard muscles pressing into her soft form. And then he was kissing her again and nothing mattered, nothing but him.

She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on each tiny caress, to prolong the need, but it didn’t matter. Nothing she did reduced her desire for the man.

“Tell me ye want me,” he whispered against her mouth.

She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his silky hard shaft. “You know I do.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. His hands moved down her spine, then cupped her bottom and brought her closer to his erection. “Yer lovely. Dear God, yer lovely.”

She couldn’t resist him, not now, not ever. His fingers moved up her thighs, drawing shivers across her skin. As his lips moved to her neck, his hand moved to the aching part of her that needed his touch the most. His tongue darted out, drawing a wicked path of delight across her body, while his fingers moved between her wet folds. Slowly, he entered her, testing her desire. He hadn’t needed to. She was ready for him the moment he entered the cottage.

“Take me,” she whispered into his ear.

He shifted, his steely erection pressing to her thighs. With his hair mussed by her fingers, he looked like a model from the pages of a magazine. Too beautiful for this world, for her, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. She was stunned, humbled by the degree of emotion there. He made her feel beautiful, he made her
feel otherworldly.

His hands moved under her hips while his erection pressed to the entrance of her folds. Delighted shivers raced over her skin, the need inside her tightening unbearably. She arched her back, taking him deeper. With a thrust, he pressed himself fully inside of her. The friction was almost her undoing. She cried out, her fingers digging into his back. Every nerve ending screamed for more.
 

She wrapped her legs around his and lifted her hips. The ache intensified, throbbing for release. He moved slowly at first, drawing out and surging back into her. It felt good, so incredibly good that she never wanted it to end. She lifted her hips again, meeting him halfway. His pace increased as he entered her over and over. Her body grew tighter, that climax so near. As if sensing her need, he cupped her bottom, lifting her as he surged into her once more. His erection throbbed inside of her. Ashley’s body broke, shattering into a million wonderful pieces.

Cristian collapsed atop her, his mouth pressing to hers. “Ye are mine, completely, forever,” he whispered against her lips.

She’d never felt so complete, so wonderfully alive. “Yes,” she whispered. And she was, forever and ever.

********

Sunlight pierced the leaves, kissing Ashley’s bare body in a lace-like pattern of light and dark. Cristian couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t look away from her soft features. The way her lips parted with her deep, even breaths. The way she tucked her body close to his, her fingers curled against his chest. The way her dark hair glistened with hints of auburn under the early morning light. He’d memorized every feature.