A SKINWALKER'S LEGACY by Shae Wynters

A SKINWALKER'S LEGACY by Shae Wynters

Her gift of second sight has enabled her to successfully aid the Phoenix Police Department in a number of investigations. Why wasn’t she warned of her own future? Now she’s facing danger on all sides . . . not least of which is her growing desire for the man who has sworn to protect her.

Lexia Torrance is a young woman with the gift of second sight. Her ability allows the local police department to solve crimes based on the gift of touch. Her latest case leads her to the body of a local man left with the killer's calling card: an emblem burned on the victim's chest in the shape of a sun. She then senses the man's attackers: five men searching for the necklace with the same emblem…and they’re also searching for her.

Skinwalker guard Galen Cortes is intent on keeping Lexia out of harm's way. Like Lexia, he is stuck between two worlds as he shares both Skinwalker and Sith faerie blood. Soon the time draws near for Lexia to learn her family history and claim the throne of Skinwalker Chieftess to keep the Southwest Skinwalker community alive.

A prophecy within the Skinwalker tribe deems that only royals within the tribe families marry to continue ruling the community. As their training heats up, so does the star-crossed passion between the Chieftess and her guard. Soon Lexia must choose between saving a community and sacrificing her heart, or risking it all for her own desires.

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Excerpt:

Lexia stepped out of her clothes and into the warm shower. She couldn’t remember a moment of pure bliss before now. Steam rose around her body like a calming sauna. She could already smell the soft, woodsy scent around the green soap before picking it up. A generic brand of shampoo and conditioner sat on the shower basin.

Lexia ran a hand through her hair as she eyed the bottles. She forgot her blow dryer and flat iron in her rush for more important saves, like her life. She already felt like a mess with all she had been through earlier that morning. Something told her she wouldn’t really have time in the coming days to primp and fuss over herself. Might as well indulge while she had the time. She lathered up and inhaled deeply as she felt her muscles relax.

After her shower, Lexia hummed softly as she sat deep in thought. She squeezed her damp hair—now becoming wavy curls—and reached over to grab an extra towel to dry it before it soaked the towel around her chest. She barely noticed the dark figure flash out of the corner of her eye, passing by the cracked open door.

Sensing a presence closing in, she let out a sharp gasp and nearly felt her insides jump out of her skin. Her hand gripped the large towel wrapped around her chest, thankful that it held and didn’t add to her already embarrassing situation.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Galen’s green eyes sparkled as he looked at her. She caught sight of the tiny dimples forming at the sides of his mouth as he broke into a small smile. “I just wanted to make sure you have everything.”

Lexia knew if she wasn’t careful, she could get lost in those intense shades of green eyes and that boyish smile. Perhaps she had to build her own defenses from that alone. Trying to refocus her attention on the present, she raised a thumb over her shoulder and gestured toward the bathroom. “Yeah, it’s all yours.”

Galen caught the hint and nodded as he passed her and entered the bathroom. His gaze locked on hers as he gently closed the door until it clicked.

Lexia exhaled, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding until now. Right at that very moment, she realized he was unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. Her body tensed at the shot of pleasure igniting like fire within her. The sound of the shower starting echoed in her ears. Steam clouded her nose as if she were still under the running water.

With it came another scent.

Male, animal and purely instinctual.

Something inside her fired to life as if it had been dormant for so long. She sensed him as if his very essence were invading her entire body. All rational thought told her to step away from the door and leave the man in peace. Instead, her body was working all on its own.

Lex grabbed the doorknob and gently pushed it open before she realized what she was doing. Drawn to him, as if something stronger than her conscious mind, drove her to him. This wasn’t just desire closing the gap. This, she realized, was pure animal instinct between them. The scent mixed in with the steam and soap within the shower, but his aroma was most powerful of all.

“Lex?”

The towels fell from her hands—the one she used to dry her hair and finally the one covering her body. She walked to the shower stall and pulled the curtain open with one quick movement.

Galen wiped the water from his eyes. His sandy blond hair was slicked back, darkened by the water. Droplets fell over his face and down the hard lines of his body.

“H—How did you know I was here?” she asked softly.

His lips lifted in a slight smile. “The door.” His gaze traveled down her body, slowly taking it all in as his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. “And I can sense you. The rise of your heartbeat, the desire emanating off your skin. It gets stronger the closer you are to me.”

They both were quiet as she stepped in to join him. Lexia was thankful for the comforting silence between them for once. Their gazes locked. She peered up at him as he brushed his hand across her cheek. Heat rose from his body, enticing her with the purely male scent of him.

“Something’s happening,” she breathed. “I don’t know what it is, but I need you.” Before he could speak, she reached up and crushed her lips against his.

Her hard nipples brushed against his smooth bare chest. His hands roamed her body, moving down her back, bottom and thighs to lock her leg around his hip. Pressing her hip forward, Lexia found him already hard for her. The tip of his rigid shaft brushed the swollen bud between her legs. She wasn’t in her right mind. She could only think about claiming him, to consume and devour him in heated passion. The primal need to mate coursed through her blood and the only one to satiate her was Galen. She needed him and could feel that he needed her just as much.

“Galen,” she breathed.

He kissed her shoulder and arched his head to brush against the concave of her neck then finally against her ear. “We can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice husky.

She pressed against him and threaded her fingers within his damp strands. “I know. This is wrong.”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“But why does it feel so right?”

“I can’t, Lex. My scent will be on you once we mate. And you are not mine to have.”

“So use your magic faerie dust and make it go away,” she said softly.

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SERAFINA AND THE PSYCHO SOUS-CHEF by Marie Treanor

SERAFINA AND THE PSYCHO SOUS-CHEF by Marie Treanor

Serafina's Book 4

A lust more addictive than spirits...

Whisky-swilling vampire Phil has his own reasons for returning to Edinburgh. They don't include rescuing beautiful amnesiac damsels in distress, and yet one night after escaping from an old enemy, that's exactly what he does. At first his motive is curiosity because of Linnie's apparent connection to his enemy, but once he involves his old drinking companion Blair, who comes these days with a gaggle of wacky humans from Serafina's Psychic Investigations, everything gets out of hand.

While hunting his old enemy, Phil gets side-tracked into helping psychic human Sera in her bizarre cases involving a missing child, a designer drug for Holywood celebrities, and a psychotic chef who heals her victims - maybe. But he has mysteries of his own to solve - is Linnie's amnesia real, and if so, how did she lose her memory? Who is she? Why does her blood taste so much more delicious than anyone else's? And why has she interested the reclusive Founder?

For Linnie, since her accident, every day is one of self-discovery. One of the few things she does know, is to fear vampires. Especially the fun, sexy Phil, who melts her bones and shows her all the excitement she secretly craves.

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Excerpt:

“Give it a rest, Phil,” she snapped. “Even my people pretend eternal love in order to get what they want. I don’t buy yours either.”

Aengus, she thought stunned, as both name and handsome, careless face rolled into the front of her mind. The first man who’d lied his way into her knickers—as Sera would put it…

“I’m not selling eternal love,” Phil said. “It doesn’t have to be forever to be good, to be exciting, memorable, sweet.” His telepathic murmur sank through her whole body, provoking a sexual response that only made her angrier. “I thought you wanted to live? Isn’t that why you came here?”

Furiously, she tried to elbow him in the ribs. “To give my all to an abomination?” she raged, and kicked out at him, connecting forcefully with his shin. “Absolutely not!”

“I don’t want all of you.” He stopped and hooked his leg around hers, stilling her lashing feet. “Just your blood and your body. Your soul, you keep.”

She didn’t know why she was so angry. Mostly, it wasn’t even aimed at him, but at the stuff rushing back into her mind; stuff she didn’t recognise and didn’t want to. It was all wrong. More than that, she didn’t want it to be true.

She knew she was losing her footing and hung on grimly to his fingers to make sure he fell with her. At the same time, she lashed out with her free hand.

It never touched him. Even as she lost her balance, she found herself not falling but soaring as he leapt through the air with her held in both arms. The wind whipped her hair back, whistled past her ears. There was a jolt as if he’d landed, but she was aware of no more than his powerful arms at her back, his hard body fitted so close into hers that they might have been naked.

Dizzy, she could see only dark sky, the odd distant twinkle and scudding silver swirls of cloud, blotted out by the vampire’s wicked angel face, his intense eyes like impossibly burning ice. And then the world went black, and there was only his mouth on hers, wild and hard and demanding.

She reached up to claw and scratch and hurt, grabbing handfuls of his soft hair between her fingers as he opened her mouth and took her kiss before she even knew she was giving it. An inarticulate moan escaped her, half fury, half helpless want. But she wasn’t helpless. She never had been.

Her fingers closed in his hair, on his scalp, not to hurt now, but to caress. Her mouth opened wide under his. She sucked his tongue greedily, stroking it with hers. His wicked fangs grazed her lips, and she licked and sucked those too.

“Bastard. Total, total bastard,” she whispered incoherently between kisses. They were standing on the ridge of a tenement building, no doubt silhouetted against the sky for anyone who cared to look far enough up. The knowledge made her even dizzier, and she didn’t care about that either.

“Because I want you?” he asked in her head.

“Because you know I want you.”

His lips smiled on hers. His leg moved, caressing her thigh. Without warning, her foot slipped, and she was falling. There was a thud as she landed on top of him, but they both kept sliding down the slope of the roof. Phil didn’t even stop kissing her, and when she tried to break free, if only to save herself some broken bones, he simply rolled her until it was her back pressed into the cold, hard slates, and, abruptly, their descent ended with his weight holding her under him on the sloping roof.

One of his legs was rigid, as if his foot hooked into the guttering or some other hold between slates. She gasped, trying to speak under his mouth.

But he was speaking inside her head. “This is what you want. Danger, risk, love in all its forms. You want to feel.”

Almost involuntarily, she pushed upward into him, gasping for breath, for more. He dragged his mouth over her lips to her jaw and downward to the throat as if inhaling her, tasting every inch of skin. His hair tickled her chin, his lips caressed the length of her neck and closed. His tongue flickered over her skin, her vein, surely, and then his teeth grazed the same path. Sensation swam outward from his mouth until every nerve in her body seemed to sing. She twisted her head around in pleasure, and as if that was the invitation he’d been waiting for, he bit.

She cried out, though not with pain. If there was any, it got lost in fierce, urgent pleasure as his mouth moved on the oversensitised skin of her throat, caressing, sucking. His whole body shuddered on hers. His silent groan vibrated right through her; it sounded like agony, like impossible, unendurable pleasure. Ye gods, yes, that was exactly what it was. Her blood rushed through her veins and arteries, triggering all sorts of pleasure points she hadn’t known she possessed. The vampire drank her in, making love to her vein, to her, and Linnie surrendered utterly.

Sunlight and joy seemed to bombard her mind. Is that you? she wondered with awe.

“Oh yes, that’s me. Sweet Jesus, Linnie…”

Vaguely, she was aware of his urgent hand working between their bodies. She didn’t mind. She wanted him everywhere. A chill blasted her hip, her thigh, as if she were naked. But it wasn’t until he tugged her jeans down over her thigh that she realised what he was about. She tried to speak without knowing what it was she wanted to say. Shockingly cool fingers thrust, bathed in the heat between her barely parted legs, and then something wider, blunter nudged her, pushed, invaded. So big, so cold, so overwhelmingly…necessary.


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SERAFINA AND THE VIRTUAL MAN by Marie Treanor

SERAFINA AND THE VIRTUAL MAN by Marie Treanor

Serafina's, Book 2

Real man versus dead man - no contest!

Dale Ewan, the wealthy owner of Genesis Gaming, has a serious poltergeist problem. In desperation, he calls on Edinburgh's unique psychic investigation agency, Serafina's.

But Sera and her hacker friend, the beautiful and aggressive Jilly, find more than one spirit haunting the ugly country house. While Sera fights the poltergeist, Jilly encounters what appears to be the ghost of Dale's brilliant ex-partner, Genesis Adam, trapped in his own new virtual reality system.

 Jilly delves headlong into Adam's mystery. How did he get there? Why is he more exciting and attractive than any of the real men in her life? How are Jilly's own criminal brothers involved in his death? And what are Dale and his wife Petra hiding? Apart from the body buried in their garden...

While Jilly falls in love with the sexy, virtual ghost, Sera has problems of her own, not least the shadowy presence of the undead Founder that seems to threaten Sera, her vampire lover Blair, and all her friends.

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~Excerpt~

He groaned into her mouth and lifted his head. His breathing was ragged, his voice unsteady. “Would you allow a dead man to make love to you?”

Jilly, who’d had such difficulty encountering a live one she could even tolerate, just said, “Please, please…” in a mindless sort of way she suspected she’d despise in the morning. Right now, it didn’t matter, since she was pulling him with her toward the large, ornate bed.

He muttered something beneath his breath, and suddenly he lifted her off her feet and strode across the room with her. Now here was the Rhett Butler that Dave Jenner had so signally failed to emulate the other night—masterful, urgent, strong. And yet he laid her on the bed with gentleness and straightened to drop the braces from his shoulders and tear off his tie and shirt.

She reached for him, and he came into her arms as if it was the most natural place in the world to be. He lay over her, his body deliciously heavy on her hips, her pubic bone. His still-covered erection pushed between her parted thighs. His skin felt warm and smooth under her hands as she ran them over his shoulders and arms and back. He was beautiful, she realised; a naked man could be astoundingly beautiful, and suddenly she wanted to see all of him.

She wriggled under him, which had the additional advantage of pleasing her body, so avid now for new and greater thrills, pushing at him until his face changed and he yanked himself off her as if afraid he’d been hurting her. Suddenly terrified he’d go too far away, she seized his naked shoulder, pushing him onto his back on the pillows so she could stroke his lean, broad chest.

Breathing deeply, he let her, watching with obvious pleasure. She smiled and kissed his chest just above the nipple, then the nipple itself, letting her lips linger there to enjoy the novel sensation.

Muttering something that was at least half groan, he reached up to the unseen fastenings of her dress and tugged once. It slipped down her shoulders to her elbows, revealing some weird corsetry that he began to unfasten at her back, hook by hook. His gaze never left hers, and suddenly it was unspeakably exciting to feel his fingers working at her back, knowing that any moment, she’d be naked. Greatly daring, she traced one finger down the central line of his chest to the waistband of his trousers. She unfastened the buttons there and kept going, revealing the fine line of hair that ran from his belly button into his shorts.

She paused. The full length of his erection lay thick and hard over his flat stomach. She laid her hand over it, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath for ages. She liked the feel of it, hot, ridged, enticing; she yearned to see it.

But she hesitated, suddenly unsure. A thread of panic brushed through her, threatening her with memory. But he seemed to read her mind and obligingly shoved his trousers and underwear down over his hips.

Her breath caught. He took her hand, and, under her widening eyes, he kissed her fingers and palm and then placed them over his naked cock. She swallowed. The skin felt so soft over all that steely hardness, so amazingly hot under her hand. She closed her fingers around the shaft, and he smiled at her.

“Oh yes,” he approved softly, and then, swiftly, he sat up and rolled her under him, and there was no dress, no corset between them. A quick scuffle of his feet, and the last of his own troublesome clothes vanished too. His hand closed over one breast, softly, tenderly caressing.
Slowly, oh so arousingly, he lowered his gaze from her eyes to her uncovered breast.

“Fuck,” he said huskily. “I knew you’d be beautiful all over. But your breast is like…” As if he ran out of words, he lowered his head and took her nipple reverently between his lips. The pleasure was exquisite, especially when his lips moved in the sweetest caress she’d ever imagined, gently rolling and tugging.

She closed her eyes, never wanting it to stop. And it seemed he was in no hurry, for he kissed her nipple for a long, long time while his hand kneaded the other, doubling her pleasure. His leg, long and muscled, stretched over both of hers, and he moved it caressingly until he shifted position and lay instead between her thighs.

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TEARS OF THE DESERT ROSE by Barbara Clark

TEARS OF THE DESERT ROSE by Barbara Clark

Sons of Earth and Wind Book V

After a four-years' absence, Prince Jalil walks back into Rose Maguire's life with an ancient scroll, containing information on the source of the legendary Tears of the Gods, said to have magical powers. Rose translates the scroll and tries to ignore her attraction to the one man who can upset her comfortable life and make her yearn for more.

Jalil's paranormal gift has shown him his country's future and his are connected to the mystical Tears. So he's sought out Rose, the one person who can translate the document—the American woman he can't forget, and should.

As they cross the burning Sahara Desert into perilous highlands and mountains, they're plunged into a world of intrigue and danger in which their courage, love, and growing paranormal gifts are tested beyond human limits.

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...Rising gracefully, she held the sword flat across her bare palms and began to chant in an ancient form of Katallan.

“From the earth, from the sky, from the ancient sea,

Let the power of the sword return and center in me.”

Shifting her grip, she grasped the hilt in both hands and held the blade high above her head.
A wind sprang up out of nowhere, laden, first with the scent of new grass, next the saltwater tang of ocean winds, and finally the fragrance of burning incense.

She called, “Show me your power.”

On the last word, a low humming sound filled the air around them. A trickle of blue flame lazily curled up and down the blade. Then a stream of fire erupted from the tip of the blade and shot skyward.

Faith stood with the sword raised for what seemed like hours even though Kadar knew by his watch that only a handful of minutes had passed.

As the shower of fire began to subside, she said, “Put your hands over mine. A man and woman sharing the power make it stronger.”

He wiped his clammy palms, and noted, wryly, that he'd rather stick the pin back into a live grenade. Nevertheless, he faced his brave little spitfire and closed his hands over hers.

The sword vibrated in their combined grip. Kadar sensed a great stirring in the psychic plane.
And a deep voice spoke in the depths of his mind. Nicholas Kadar Ben Hamad, honorable son of Duraza. My brother, The Sword of Night, and I grant you the power to call us to your will.

On the last word, the voice fell silent, the fire stopped, and once more, the sword slept...

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FOUR COWBOYS AND A WITCH by Cheryl Dragon

FOUR COWBOYS AND A WITCH by Cheryl Dragon

Warrior's Craft Book Two

Danielle left Texas for plenty of good reasons. The psychic had been called a witch and a lot worse. The only thing she missed was the four men who'd never let her down.

Back in Houston to settle her aunt's estate, Dani is drawn into their fight against a mysterious creature. A lot has changed, and they want her in their life and their one, very Texas-sized bed. A quiet ranch life with a paranormal mission and four hot cowboys eager to share her is more than she ever dreamed of having.

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Four Cowboys & A Witch
Cheryl Dragon
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Cheryl Dragon

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Ben Richner paced the family-room-turned-command-center of his Houston ranch. The proper living room was still decorated to the hilt, ready to receive and entertain guests in proper Texas fashion. The tucked away command center was stocked with laptops, maps, and reference books on the paranormal.

Being pagan in Texas felt like being a kitten surrounded by western diamondback rattlers -- you didn't stand a chance except to hold still and hope they didn't see you. Of course, Ben's crazy old aunts never cared. He'd learned it all young: Loving nature was okay here, but the good Christian ladies grew very uncomfortable with the pagan label.

As talented as this group of men was, only one had any spark of a magical gift, and it barely registered against the vampires they'd fought. A key piece of their group eluded them.

"Quit staring out the window. Trey and Rodney will get back when they're done." Sam Gradar stood and made his way to the kitchen with his coffee mug.

"I know," Ben said.

He had grown so used to Sam's limp he barely noticed anymore. Today, however, it grated on Ben: the pain in Sam's green eyes, and how that long sandy hair swung more when the limp hurt him.
Guilt never went away. They'd been warned and couldn't get to Sam in time. The rodeo accident in high school had been truly cruel harassment of a gay man. Seven years hadn't healed Sam's leg.
Nothing could. It was good to be rich and own land in Texas. Ben had flown in specialists but there were no fixes.

Pagan and gay, the group had some strikes against it, but technically they weren't gay. The missing piece was the right woman. The fact that the four of them had plenty of muscle from working a horse ranch meant others rarely harassed them.

Ben shook off the history running through his head. The case needed attention, yet his brain kept flashing back to high school when he'd fallen in love with Trey, and they'd both had a crush on that pesky Danielle girl.

Danielle Embers' name had come up when her father's aunt died last week. Since then, the group had kept their ears open for word that Dani'd returned to Houston. The very gifted woman had left for college and never returned. Her looks haunted him, long blonde hair and dark eyes that hinted of the power she tried to hide.

Finally Trey and Rodney pulled up in Trey's loaded silver pickup. The two climbed out. Ben met them at the door. The sight of Trey's handsome face, short brown hair and brown eyes comforted Ben.
"You're hyper today." Trey kissed Ben.

"It's Dani. She's in my head. Her aunt wanted no funeral and was cremated so maybe she won't come back. Someone has to claim the ashes and her possessions. What if Dani has them shipped?" Ben hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his worn out jeans.

"We've put feelers out all over town. If she shows at the retirement apartment complex, the funeral home, or any of our usual haunts, they'll call us." Rodney shrugged.

Ben smiled at the ever practical and overly smart man of the group. Black hair and dark eyes made him look like the magical practitioner he wanted to be. Finding that online coven for pagan men was Rodney's genius. He'd learned a lot, but they could really use Dani's gifts.

A hand slapped Ben on the back. He looked over.

"You okay?" Trey asked.

"Yeah, fine. What did you find at the attack site?" Ben rubbed his eyes.

Rodney turned on a laptop and hooked up his smartphone. "I got pictures. The property owner swears he didn't hear a thing all night. No howls or noises from the herd. There were no footprints or tire tracks."

"After that rain yesterday, the ground is still damp. There should've been some impressions." Trey moved over as Sam returned with his coffee.

"Another pricey cow killed?" Sam asked.

Trey nodded. "It was bloated from the sun this morning already, but the blood was gone. We cut the neck and the legs, barely any blood."

"Wolves? Coyotes?" Ben suggested.

Sam studied the pictures. "No, packs tear up the body. This one is pristine. I can't believe the coyotes didn't go after the meat."

"They didn't. You know animals. There must be a reason. Some scent they don't like. We took samples from the wounds, but the holes are so small it'd take forever to drain a heifer that way." Trey walked away with a shrug.

Ben loved the experience dynamic. Trey and Sam knew animals and ran a tight ranch. Rodney had the book smarts while Ben had the quirky ideas. "Did you put it to the online coven guys?"

Rodney shook his head. "I'll do it now that we've got evidence. The other two reports this week were shredded by predators by the time we got there. Vultures were circling when we arrived."

"See what they say online. Could be kids being dumb or something paranormal we don't know about." Ben nodded.

"Vampires haven't been a problem since we made them toe the line six months ago," Sam said.
"Who says it's vamps?" Trey asked.

"Who else wants blood?" Sam replied.

"There's too much blood in a huge cow. How'd they keep it fresh? Pump and store? Come on, they can raid the blood banks or hospitals instead of doing the work for cow blood. It's something else." Ben liked the surge of fighting the unknown and helping people.

"I'll put it online to the coven and start researching similar cases." Rodney settled in with the computer.

Ben's phone beeped and he looked at the text message. Dani Embers at retirement complex now.

"Put the cows on hold, guys. Dani's in town." Ben turned and headed for the door. The other three followed. He could feel the group lighten up. As good as they were together, Ben knew they'd never be civilized without the right woman. Pagan warriors for good needed a goddess to connect them to the feminine powers. In Texas terms, there was no home without a woman in it.

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DEMONICALLY TEMPTED by Stacey Kennedy

DEMONICALLY TEMPTED by Stacey Kennedy

Frostbite Book Two

Tess Jennings, now a member of the Memphis Police Department, is on her first cold case. The suspected suicide of Lizbeth Knapp ten years ago isn't a theory her family accepts - they believe she was murdered.

But the case is only one of Tess's worries. Ghosts are talking, and word of her abilities rapidly spreads. A dark ghost is terrifying the spirits of Memphis, and she must force the entity to cross over.

Tess doesn't have to do this alone. Not only does she have her ghost-lover, Kipp McGowen, but the department has brought in a medium. Dane Wolfe might answer all her questions, but he also brings a world of trouble. Will Tess finally have all she's ever wanted, or will everything she's vowed to protect be ripped away?

*SERIES DOES NOT CONTAIN STANDALONE STORIES. MUST BE READ IN ORDER. FIRST BOOK IN SERIES IS SUPERNATURALLY KISSED*

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Excerpt:

Copyright © STACEY KENNEDY, 2012

Chapter One

The old farmhouse had seen better days. Not only could it use a coat of paint, but it also needed a dose of love. Dry, brown grass surrounded the home, and the only flowers topped four-foot high weeds.

I glanced next to me at Zach—a cop with the Memphis P.D.—and crinkled my nose. “Someone actually lives here?”

His blue eyes met mine and he ran a hand through his blond, stylish hair and shrugged. “Max said the victim’s sister still resides in the home where the death happened.”

As he lowered his arm, he cringed, and I winced at the memory. Heck, only weeks ago he’d been stabbed and shot in the shoulder.

The man who caused Zach’s injury got it worse—by my very hand, no less—but I was glad Hannah Reid’s murderer hadn’t returned to haunt me.

I might have suffered some serious remorse. That is, if I didn’t believe God wouldn’t punish me because I killed a murderer. Brody would’ve done the same to me if I hadn’t gotten to him first. I tried my best to stick with that theory. It saved me from the lingering guilt I might—and would never admit to—have for taking a life.

Sure, there was an internal investigation through the police department, and I had been questioned until my voice went scratchy. But in the end, the shooting had been declared self-defense, and I was perfectly happy with that. Or so I told myself every day until I finally believed it.

Besides, the cops that I now worked alongside had my back throughout the investigation, and nothing would change that. We’d grown close through the time spent during the Reid case, and even closer in the weeks that followed.

“I’m going to see if Lizbeth is out here somewhere,” Kipp—a ghost, and my lover—said, dragging me from my thoughts.

Yes, our relationship was complicated and it’s insanely sick that I’m in love with a ghost, but I wasn’t about to fight my heart’s desire.

“If you find her, then come tell us, immediately. The less time I have to spend in that house, the better.” Scummy houses and me didn’t mesh well. I like cleanliness and hate spiders.

“He’s going off on his own then?” Zach asked.

As of late, Zach had caught on to our conversations better. Seeing that I was the only lucky one—or not so lucky as I viewed it—who could hear ghosts’ communication was annoying, at best.

Maybe I gave more descriptions in my answers than I normally did, or maybe he’d gotten used to having to fill in the blanks. Whatever it was, I appreciated the ease of our conversations now. The back and forth got on my last nerve.

As Kipp strode away, I stared at his scrumptious ass filling his dark blue jeans. The man might be a ghost, but he was sex packaged into muscular goodness.

One of his eyes was chocolate brown, while the other was crystal blue, and he had untidy brown hair that no matter how messy only made him look more attractive. And he was all mine.

I blinked, pulling myself away from my ogling, and frowned at Zach. “Ready?”

His gaze danced with laughter, yet a smile never appeared. “For someone who accepted a job with the department, you would think you’d hold more excitement.”

“Just because I can officially call myself part of the police department—which is absurd, by the way—doesn’t mean I still don’t have hesitations.”

My gift took a while to adjust to but I knew when to see reason. Helping ghosts that had met a horrible fate wasn’t a bad job. That is, as long as I didn’t run into any more crazy-ass killers who wanted to make me a ghost, too.

Zach approached the house, and I trailed after him, not showing half the confidence he carried in his gait.

I climbed the old steps, slightly worried the wood would break under my weight, but seeing Zach went first and the man was all power, the wooden planks could support my slender frame.

He knocked on the door. And a moment later, it opened to a woman who matched the house. She appeared to be in her fifties, but the dark circles under her eyes and the hunch to her shoulders made her look well worn.

“Ms. Knapp?” Zach asked.

“Yes.” Her voice dripped with despair. “Are you the detectives?”

Zach nodded. “Is it still all right if we come in?”

She widened the door, and moved aside. “Please call me Anna.”

“Thank you, Anna.” Zach entered the home. “We appreciate you taking the time to discuss Lizbeth with us.”

I hesitantly followed and tried my damndest not to let my repulsion in the house show. Not an easy feat.

“Please, will you have a seat?” She waved out to a couch that I wouldn’t sit on even if it had a layer of plastic over top of it.

I held back my desire to gag, and twirled my finger in my brown, shag-cut hair. “I’m okay here, thanks.”

Zach grimaced at me before he took a seat and shed all emotion as he turned to Anna. “We’re aware that this will be difficult for you to discuss, but we need you to remember anything you can from when Lizbeth died.”

“I’m not sure I can tell you anything that…” She peeked up at the ceiling. I followed her gaze seeing dark brown stains, and restrained my shudder. “…Max, was that who I spoke with?”

“That’s right. He’s the sergeant.” Zach smiled softly. “He told us the necessary information, but I’ve learned it’s always best to hear it directly for myself.”

In all actuality, I hadn’t heard all the details except that I was officially on my first cold-case.

“Well,” Anna paused, glancing down at her fingers as she fiddled them. “It started a year before Lizbeth’s death. She began to act differently.”

Zach pulled his pad of paper and pen from his pocket, and flipped the notebook open. “Can you explain that in more detail?”

I clasped my hands in front of me. Just because I was now part of team didn’t mean I would start acting like a cop in any official capacity. Let’s be serious now. I wasn’t really a detective.

Anna continued, “She’d talk to me about an evil presence around her.”

“Evil?” I gasped.

“I know how funny it sounds. At the time, it did to me, too. But looking back, Lizbeth just didn’t seem like herself, and maybe I should’ve listened to her.” Anna crossed her arms and shifted in her seat. “She used to be a very happy young woman. Full of life and spirit, but all of a sudden she seemed so dark.”

I gave my head a shake, trying to make sense out of her nonsense. “Dark how?”

“Depressed.” Anna exhaled. “She never came out of her room, and totally withdrew from life.”

“She was suicidal, then?” Zack asked with a gentle tone.

“I suppose you’d draw that conclusion from what I’m telling you now, but the truth is I never took her to be the type.” She gave a knowing look. “Like I said, she was well adjusted and quite happy.”

“But you just said she was depressed,” I countered.

“Yes, I did, but still, Lizbeth was a fighter. She used to tell me that this evil presence was overtaking her soul, and she tried so hard to fight against it.”

Zach made a face. I made one of my own. We were speaking English, yet gibberish would have made more sense.

Seeing that we were getting nowhere, and I suspected Anna had lost her mind a long time ago, I moved along. “Did her condition get worse?”

“It got so bad, my parents had no idea what to do. You have to remember it was a different time. The medications for depression that exist today didn’t back then.” Tears welled in her eyes, but they cleared just as quick. “My parents took her to a doctor, even admitted her into a hospital, but my mother couldn’t manage to leave her there. She thought love would bring Lizbeth out of her trouble.”

“Clearly, it didn’t.”

“That’s right, it only got worse. Lizbeth started to hurt herself.”

Zach’s eyebrows rose. “You mean, caused injuries to herself?”

“No one ever knew—and Lizbeth never said—how she did it. But she had lacerations all over her back.”

Zach scribbled notes, and then peered at Anna. “Did Lizbeth ever say anything to you about the wounds?”

Those tears now weren’t so easily pushed away. “She was adamant she had never caused them.”

One conclusion came to my mind. “No one believed her, did they?”

“Who else would have done it?” Anna retorted. “At that point, Lizbeth hadn’t left the house in over six months.”

Zach stared at Anna, his gaze probing. I inhaled deeply, understanding the frustration. The dust in the room settled into my nostrils. I rubbed at the tickling in my nose, and considered what she had told us.

It seemed to me Lizbeth had clearly been suicidal. I’d watched television shows were people cut themselves. Maybe this was all that was going on here. Case closed.

Zach scribbled a few more lines of notes then scrutinized Anna. “How did Lizbeth act in the days before she died?”

“Strange.” Anna wiped the tears from her face. “She always had this dark cloud over her, but in the week before her death it became much worse. She’d stopped eating and we had to force liquids down her throat.” Her chin quivered, more tears spilling. “But it was in her eyes where I saw her demise.”

“What did you see?” I whispered, not totally sure I wanted to hear her answer.

“She was already dead.”

Zach coughed. “Pardon?”

“Lizbeth was no longer in her body.” Anna shook her head, sending more tears rushing down her cheeks. “I know that sounds crazy, but that’s the only way I can describe it. She had already left.”

“Where did she go?” I urged.

“I have no idea. All I know is she was gone.”

My assumptions that Anna was off her rocker deepened. One question would solidify if I believed she held any sanity at all. “Why do you stay here…in this house?”

Anna’s eyes swam in sadness. “I’m afraid that Lizbeth is still here, and if I leave she’ll be all alone. I don’t have the money to fix the house. Since her death—times have been hard.”

Wasn’t I a shit? Her answer was clear and concise, and, well…I could understand her reasons. If she were insane, I assumed her purpose for staying here would be, too.

Zach closed his notebook, and placed it into the pocket of his black slacks. “Would you take us outside to the water and discuss what happened the night she died?”

“Of course.” Anna stood from the couch and approached the front door.

Zach gestured toward the hall. I took the hint. Since Kipp hadn’t returned yet, it confirmed he hadn’t found Lizbeth’s ghost. Before we left I needed to check out the house to see if she remained. “Do you mind if I use your washroom?”

“Not at all.” Anna dabbed her tears with a tissue, and then raised her chin. “It’s down the hall—third door on the right.”

“Thank you.” I headed toward the hallway while Zach continued to ask Anna another question as they exited the front door.

The hallway was in a similar condition to the rest of the house, completely in shambles. The flowered wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the color of it resembled something not worth discussing. I wrinkled my nose, catching a whiff of mold, and continued walking.

To my left was an open door to a bedroom. I peeked in and clothes were thrown over the light blue bedspread. Furniture was scarce, but the room seemed lived in. It did appear slightly more taken care of than the rest of the home, which drew the conclusion that this had to be Anna’s bedroom.

I scanned the room and couldn’t see Lizbeth’s ghost, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. She could be hiding. “Lizbeth,” I whispered.

No one responded.

Leaving the room, I carried on down the hall to another bedroom on the right, but as I called out her name again, I received the same response.

The bathroom was to my left and another room lay on the right. The door was closed and I did my best to keep quiet as I opened it. I couldn’t hear Zach or Anna in the house anymore, but I didn’t want to chance it. I pushed the door open and it creaked.

I peered in and my heart skipped a beat. “Creepy.”

The room wasn’t in the same condition as the house. It looked brand new, even the paint on the walls appeared fresh, and Lizbeth’s name was written in wooden letters above the dresser.

Of all the rooms to keep nice, Anna chose this one. I couldn’t decide if that was sweet or freaky.

“Lizbeth,” I whispered again only to be met with silence. I’d never had a ghost hide from me before, usually they were so intrigued by my ability they always approached.

I closed the door, headed for the bathroom, and went straight for the sink. At least the room was clean. Yes, in horrible condition, but the yellow bathtub had been scrubbed recently.

At the sink, I turned on the faucet to wash the icky feeling off my hands. I wanted to get home and have a shower. Being in this house for even a few minutes had left my skin feeling filthy and downright gross.

I waited a moment to let the water warm since the pipes thumped indicating trouble stirred, and just as I placed my hands under the water, a voice startled me. “Why are you in my house?”

I looked over my shoulder and spotted a middle-aged ghost dressed in a double-breasted black coat, white dress shirt, and fitted tanned breeches.

“I beg your pardon,” I snapped. “But I don’t deserve to be glared at—or spoken to in that nasty tone—when I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You can hear me?” His eyes widened. “You can see me?”

“Yes I can.” I returned the glower he not-so-kindly offered me. “Why are you so rude?”

“I-I-I…”

“Classic.” I snorted. “The ghost is beside himself. Isn’t it supposed to be the live person who is shocked when they see a ghost?”

“You’re alive?”

Now he was being just downright mean. I shut off the faucet, and with the water dripping off my fingertips, I turned to face him. “Do I look dead to you?”

He gave me a once over with an expression that left something to be desired. “No, but why are you glowing?”

“Yes, well,” I wiped my damp hands on my skinny jeans, “that’s my ability.”

He examined my gold hue—or so I’d been told that is how it appeared—and by his huge eyes this revelation stunned him. “And this ability is how you can see me?”

I wasn’t in any mood to get into this with him. A change in topic was in order. “Have you seen a young girl around here?”

“No,” he responded without haste.

I nibbled my lip, considering that. “Not ever, or not lately?”

“Never.”

If Lizbeth died in misery, it made no sense that her ghost wasn’t here. Ghosts always lingered and needed help to cross over. Someone who committed suicide wouldn’t be a settled soul. And most of the ghosts I’d met returned to a place that had meant something to them. Considering Lizbeth was young when she died, I had assumed she’d come home. Where else would she have gone?

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“I have no idea.” He paused, thoughtful, then said, “I think it’s been quite some time.”

His response didn’t surprise me. Ghosts never remembered much except what they needed to, to move on. Seeing that this ghost would lead me nowhere, I figured I might as well try and help one ghost today. “Do you want to cross over?”

He scowled. “Are you threatening me?”

“Good God. You’re foul. I’m asking to be nice. I can help you, if you’d like.”

“This is my house. I don’t want to leave. I want you to.”

I grunted. “Trust me, I want the same damn thing.”

He gestured toward the door in what might have seemed like a bow of respect, if his tight features hadn’t thoroughly flipped me off. “Best you see yourself out.”

I had just about enough of his bad attitude. I pointed at him. “You better not go scaring Anna. She’s been through enough.”

“I don’t scare her.” He scoffed. “She’s a lovely woman and I don’t mind her sharing the home with me.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but if I find out you’re frightening her, I will Ghostbuster your ass. Got it, jacko?” I flicked my hair over my shoulder, not waiting for him to respond because frankly, I didn’t give a shit.

I exited the bathroom, heard him grumbling something after me. I really couldn’t blame him, though. If I’d been dead since the eighteen hundreds, from the looks of his clothing, I’d be pissy too.

Once on the front porch, I spotted Zach and Anna. They talked down by a creek that was completely overgrown with weeds, rocks lining the shore.

On my approach, Zach glimpsed at me. I shook my head to indicate I hadn’t found Lizbeth in the house.

He visibly sighed, turning to Anna. “Now that Tess has arrived, would you please tell us what happened?”

I took a moment to scan the area, and listened hard to see if I could hear anything, but only the sound of rushing water and chirping birds filled my ears.

The air around the home smelled so fresh, and thrived with nature, it was a wonderful contrast to the dust and mold inside the house.

Anna drew in a long, deep breath. “It was a spooky evening that night. The fog settled above the water and the full moon provided a lot of light.” Her eyes glazed over, lost in memory. “I heard Lizbeth leave the house, so I went over to my bedroom window.”

I glanced at the house. One lone window faced the creek.

“I saw Lizbeth walking out to the water. She wore just her white nighty, and she was so frail.” Anna rubbed her arms. “She was all skin and bones.”

“She came out here alone?” I asked.

Anna nodded. “I didn’t see anyone with her, at the time. She stood by the water’s edge and was so pretty.”

I had a hard time imagining anyone as pretty in the way Anna had described. But I wasn’t about to bring up that point and merely listened as she went on.

“Lizbeth looked over her shoulder, and I’m still not sure how she knew I was watching her, but she smiled one of the coldest smiles I’d ever seen.” Anna hugged herself. “I’m sure that smile will haunt me forever.”

I gulped, a sudden nervousness wrapped around me and icy fingertips ran up my spine.

“What did she do after that?” Zach asked.

Anna inhaled sharply, clearly pulling herself away from the horrifying memory. “She turned toward the water, walked in, and killed herself.”

Had I heard her right? “Are you saying she drowned herself?”

“I know that’s hard to believe, but the second I saw her walk into the creek, she submerged herself into the water. That’s when I ran out after her.”

“What happened when you reached her?”

“She was floating, head first, and so I pulled her out.” A tear slid along her cheek, and she wiped it away. “I tried to do CPR, but it didn’t matter, she was already gone.”

Silence drifted around us. I welcomed it. This story needed some time to process, and even after a minute or so, I still came up empty.

Anna gazed out at the water, as she cried. I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to be here, staring at this water, and remembering what happened. How did she continue to live in that house?

A nudge on my arm had me glancing over at Zach. He mouthed the words, “Is she here?”

I shook my head.

His brow puckered.

Lizbeth’s lack of appearance seemed unusual even to me, but I hoped Kipp had better luck.

Zach cleared his throat breaking the silence. “After you pulled Lizbeth out of the water, what happened?”

Anna wiped her damp cheeks. “My mother and father came down and chaos erupted. They yelled, wanting to know what happened to her. When I told them, it was no surprise they didn’t believe me.”

She brought up a good point. “Where are you parents now?”

“Both, long dead.”

Insert foot into mouth! “I’m sorry.”

Anna sighed. “It’s for the best. Lizbeth’s death hit both of them very hard. My mother was never the same and my father became an alcoholic.”

Saddest thing I’d ever heard.

“I can’t find her outside.”

I glanced over my shoulder and Kipp approached, lips pressed into a thin line. Seeing that I couldn’t answer him with Anna here, I simply gave a short nod to show I understood his defeat.

“At what point did you see Hector?” Zach asked.

I gasped, unable to hide my shock. “Someone else saw her in the water?”

Zach nodded. “He’d been the main suspect in her death but—”

“My statement ruled him out,” Anna interjected. “He probably would’ve been found guilty of her murder since he’d been the only other person present at the time of her death. But I said it then, and I’ll say it now, he didn’t kill her. I saw Lizbeth walk into the water and drown herself. I couldn’t make up what I saw.”

“Ask her how she can be so sure,” Kipp said to me.

I shook my head, which I tried to hide by shifting my stance. There was no way I would argue with Anna. Kipp hadn’t heard the rest of the conversation and I believed every word she said.

Instead, I pressed on. “Did you know he was there when you first came out of the house?”

“No,” Anna replied. “He showed up out of nowhere. I hadn’t seen him near the house at all and his arrival startled me. But I’ll tell you one thing, his eyes were exactly like Lizbeth’s.”

My heart did that full skip-a-beat thing, indicating whatever she meant by that, scared me shitless. “They were?”

“When Lizbeth smiled at me, Hector did the exact same thing when he approached. To say it was creepy is really putting it mildly, but it was as if I stared at Lizbeth again—or what Lizbeth had turned into.”

The side of my temple hurt. I zeroed in on Zach. “So after they questioned Hector, they released him?”

“That’s right. But he’s now serving time for an unrelated crime he committed a month after Lizbeth’s death.”

I gave Zach and Kipp a knowing look, and they returned it. As much as Anna was sure of what she saw, I suspected she was wrong. A person in a state of shock might not be able to think straight. I surmised that’s exactly what happened.

“I know what y’all are thinking, but I know what I saw,” Anna said, adamantly. “Lizbeth walked into the water and killed herself. Trust me, I’ll never be able to forget it.” Sadness gone. Determination risen. “No matter how much everyone wanted me to retract my statement and pin it on Hector, I wouldn’t send an innocent man to jail for something he didn’t do.”

Innocent, my ass!

Zach inclined his head, as if he agreed with her, but I knew better. “Is there anything else you can tell us, Anna, that could help us?”

“I’m sorry. That’s all I know.”

“Thank you for talking to us.” I smiled, reached out for her hand and squeezed it. “We’ll do what we can to find out what happened to her.”

Anna returned the smile, but on her, it was despaired. “I appreciate y’all working on this case again. I do hope that you’ll discover what truly happened to Lizbeth. If it’s all right, I’d like to go into the house now.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your time.” Zach shook Anna’s hand, and then she started toward the house.

“This is by far the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in,” I whispered to Kipp. “I’ve never experienced a missing ghost before.”

“Quite unusual, to say the least,” he grumbled. “Let’s go to the station and fill Max in on what we’ve discovered.” He sighed. “Or not discovered.”

Without hesitation since I was more than happy to leave, I headed to the truck with the boys following. Anna climbed the steps of her porch, and I remembered there was something I needed to tell her. “Anna,” I called.

She turned.

“You have a very grumpy old ghost in your house, but don’t worry, he likes you.”

She didn’t appear nearly as surprised as I’d expected. Maybe she already suspected a ghost lived with her. Maybe not. But my job was done.

Now on to finding a missing ghost… LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE eBOOK

PSYCHE'S SEARCH by Ann Gimpel

PSYCHE'S SEARCH  by Ann Gimpel

Transformation Series Book Two

Born with the sight, Laura McInnis is ambivalent about her paranormal ability. Oh it's useful enough some of the time with her psychotherapy patients. But mostly it's an embarrassment and an inconvenience - especially when her visions drag her to other worlds. Or into Goblin dens. In spite of escalating violence, incipient food shortages and frequent power blackouts, Lara is still far too attached to the comfortable life she shares with her boyfriend, Trevor, a flight attendant who lost his job when aviation fuel got so expensive - and so scarce - his airline went out of business. Forced to seek assistance to hone her unusual abilities in Psyche's Prophecy, Book I of this series, Lara is still quite the neophyte in terms of either summoning or bending her magic to do much of anything.

Reluctantly roped into channeling her unpredictable psychic talents to help a detective who saved her from a psychopathic killer, Lara soon finds herself stranded in the murky underbelly of a world inhabited by demons. The Sidhe offer hope, but they are so high-handed Lara stubbornly resists their suggestions. Riots, death on all sides, a mysterious accident and one particular demon targeting her, push Lara to make some hard decisions. When all seems lost, the Dreaming, nestled in the heart of Celtic magic, calls out to her. Heeding its summons brings sorrow, while opening the gates to a new life.

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Chapter One

Doctor Lara McInnis began the day clinging to a slender island of solace. Hours later, waves of patients, errands and phone calls had pounded against that island till it was nothing but a rubble heap. Rubbing wearily at her eyes, Lara finally gave up and closed them. For a moment or two she thought she might get away with it, but then an image of Arabel, her longtime receptionist, lying in a pool of her own blood rose out of some subterranean reservoir. The grizzly scene was so real, Lara’s stomach clenched. And then, like an unwelcome tape loop, it played again. And again. Opening her eyes didn’t help one whit. Arabel was just as bloody and just as dead.

Lara collapsed into the chair generally reserved for her patients. Outside her western window a scarlet sunset streaked the Seattle skyline, adding its bloody motif to the one already playing in her head. Disgusted with herself, she got to her feet and began pacing the length of her spacious office, burning a track in the Oriental rug. She knew she should be boxing up client files, but couldn’t force herself back to a task she was ambivalent about—at least not until she could get her emotions under better control.

The doorknob rattled. It startled her, and Lara’s heart jumped into overdrive. In her current state, the familiar sound was like a reproach. “How could I not have locked it with everything that’s going on?” she muttered as she rushed into the outer office. Arabel’s desk, another Oriental rug and ornate Victorian furniture with floral upholstery flashed past the edges of her vision, but she was focused on the door as she watched the knob slowly turning.

This is ridiculous, she told herself. It’s probably a pharmaceutical salesman thinking I’m a psychiatrist.

Or that demon that’s been dogging you, a darker inner voice insinuated.

Since the only other option was throwing herself out a second-story window and hoping for the best, Lara crossed the few feet to the door and yanked it open. A decidedly overweight woman jerked her hand away from the doorknob and eyed Lara balefully out of rheumy, blue eyes. Pale brown hair, going gray, was gathered into an untidy bun, and fat rolls bulged over too-tight jeans and under an inadequate T-shirt.

“Missus Stone.” Lara tried to smile as she coaxed her heart back to a normal rhythm.

“Hmmmmph, surprised you remember me.”

“Of course I do.” Lara stepped aside, gesturing for the woman to enter. The last thing she wanted was another patient visit, but it would verge on the unethical—never mind the rude—to ask Myra Stone to go away without at least finding out what she wanted.

Lara waited while Myra stalked past her, looked inside the inner office and circled back to stand in front of Lara, hands on her hips. “Guess she’s not here,” Myra snapped as she sat down in one of the reception chairs.

“If you’re looking for Caren, no; she’s not,” Lara agreed, mystified. “Is your stepdaughter missing?”

The woman grunted. She still had an expression on her face that could curdle milk, but she knotted her fingers together and said, “How about if you sit down, and you and me can have a little talk?”

“Okay.” Lara kept her voice as neutral as she could, pulled the office door shut—taking care to lock it this time—and rolled Arabel’s chair out. Her butt had barely grazed the seat cushion when the woman started talking.

“I don’t think spending time here is helping Caren. Nope, not at all,” Myra complained in an unpleasant, nasal twang. “I never know where she is. She’s still taking what doesn’t belong to her; and that father of hers, well he’s not any help at all. So it’s just me.” Accusatory eyes drilled into Lara. “All my real kids turned out fine. This one, she’s just a bad seed.” Rooting around in a battered handbag, Myra pulled out a cigarette. “Do you mind?”

“Uh, yes; I’d prefer you didn’t smoke,” Lara managed, struck by the gall of the woman and offended to hear her belittle her stepdaughter so blatantly. Caren had said Myra hated her, but Lara had assumed it was just teenaged hyperbole.

Myra stuffed the cigarette into her T-shirt pocket and pushed her bulk upright. “Not much reason for me to stay,” she muttered. “Really thought she’d be here. You’re the only one she ever says anything good about.”

If she felt like one of your real kids, maybe she’d say good things about you—or feel safe enough to love you . . . Discouraged by the woman’s callousness—after all, Caren had been through hell in her sixteen years—Lara stood, too. Trying for a positive spin, she said, “You must be concerned, or you wouldn’t have come looking for Caren. Would you like to make an appointment, Missus Stone? I already told you on the phone I’m closing my practice, but I’d be glad to find a time slot for you in the next couple of weeks. We could talk about some of the challenges of step-parenting and how hard it is for abused children to learn to trust—”

“Nah.” Myra waved her to silence. “Hell, my uncle did me and I didn’t turn out like her. I didn’t cut school or steal stuff. Or carve on myself.” Shuffling over to the door, she pulled it open and stalked out into the hall, the tiny chink in her armor replaced by a brittle, defensive anger.

“Well, think about it,” Lara persisted, addressing the woman’s back as Myra headed for a stairwell. Drawing the door shut behind her, she retreated to her office, thinking that Myra could do with a smattering of psychotherapy herself. Yeah, like about ten years worth. Crimson from the sunset bled through stained-glass windows, casting her familiar furniture in an eerie light. Lara wrapped her arms around herself, seeking the warmth of her own body for comfort.

That poor child . . . From abusive kin to a stepmother who doesn’t want her. Sorrow for Caren replaced the Arabel tape loop as color faded from the room. Lara decided it was an improvement, all in all, and she kicked a box over a few inches so she could open the lower drawer of her filing cabinet. Pushing her long red hair back over her shoulders, she proceeded to dump banded files into the banker’s box without any particular regard for order.

The outer door of her office rattled again. This time, though, it was a key sound.

“Lara?”

“In here, Trev,” she called back, straightening to greet her longtime boyfriend.

Trevor, his usually buoyant mood notably subdued, held out his arms. “‘Lo, Lara. Sorry I’m a bit late but . . . well, never mind; it will keep.” He scanned the room with his intensely blue eyes, taking in her half-finished packing job. “How much more . . .” he began tentatively as he put his arms round her for a hug.

Shooting him a look laced with pain, she shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m doing this as fast as I can in between seeing patients who want a last session or two. Thank god Arabel started calling all of them before . . .”

His arms tightened around her. “Doesn’t matter, love. It’ll be done eventually.” Blonde curls brushing against her face, he kneaded her shoulders with both hands. “Bloody hell, you’re wound up tighter than a spring.” The familiar clipped tones of his British accent washed over her like a balm.

“Feels heavenly,” she breathed. “I didn’t realize how . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Well, maybe I did, but I’ve been forcing myself not to pay attention.” She pulled away, sinking onto the floral couch spanning part of one wall. Exhaustion dragged at her as she dropped her head into her hands, rocking slightly.

Pushing a couple of boxes out of the way, Trevor joined her. “I miss Arabel, too, you know.” There was a catch in his voice that he tried to clear away. “Any of those ready to take home?” he asked, pointing at the half dozen boxes littering the floor.

“Yeah, those three.” She jabbed her index finger at a corner of the room. “They’re records from patients I haven’t seen in at least a couple of years.”

“What are you going to do with the others?” His voice was gentle, but he placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “What are you saving them for?”

“Guess I can’t very well keep any of them,” she muttered. “It’s not like we’re even going to be here after a little while.”

“No,” he agreed solemnly. “It’s not. And we’re not.”

Pursing her lips into a thin line, she found her feet. “Okay, then,” she snapped, angry with the universe that seemed to be stealing her life away. Pulling open file drawers, she grabbed a few charts and dumped them onto her desk. “I need these since I’m not quite done with these people, but all the rest can go.”

Nodding, Trevor joined her in front of the twin horizontal files, and together they began to move twenty years worth of Lara’s psychology practice into the waiting cartons. “You’ll need more boxes,” he noted after a few minutes. “Lots more.”

“Thought we could fill these, dump them at home, and then I’d just bring the empties back tomorrow and begin all over.”

“Ah, brilliant. Of course; that’s the obvious thing to do.” Grunting, he shouldered a box and headed for the door. “I’ll be back directly for another.”

“Right behind you,” she said, picking up a box. “I do feel better when I’m doing something other than wallowing in my own misery.”

“That’s my girl,” he shot back over his shoulder.

The minute Trevor opened the door of his old Mercedes convertible, Gunter, their eleven-week-old German Shepherd lunged out of the car, making a beeline for Lara. The little black puppy yipped, whined and launched himself at her, pulling at her wool skirt with his claws. “There, there, little man,” she cooed, putting her box down so she could unhook his feet from the fabric of her skirt. “Yes, yes; I’ve missed you, too.”

As she fondled the puppy, she glanced at Trevor. Dressed in faded blue jeans, a green chambray shirt and a tan corduroy blazer, his tall, lanky frame exuded its usual casual elegance. “How’d your day go?” she asked.

“Not bad,” he replied, shoving his box of files into the car’s small trunk and reaching for the one she’d set on the sidewalk. “We’ll have to put the rest in your car, love. No more room in here.” He slammed the car’s boot. “I started really taking stock of what’s in our house . . . and making lists. Went down to the waterfront, too.” His lips curved wryly. “Didn’t find much in the way of antique farm equipment, but I did get some leads. Bloke at the flea market looked at me as if I were daft.”

She flashed him a weak smile. “Well, dear, I suppose it’s not every day they get customers hunting for scythes, or whatever it was you asked for.”

“Let’s get those other boxes down here. Then we can walk the pup before we go home.”

Lara inclined her head and turned to go back into her building. Lucky for us the electricity’s not on the fritz. It’s almost dark out here. Power outages had been hit-and-miss. More often than not, she’d had to use a flashlight to find her way out of her building. Back in the office, she continued throwing files willy-nilly into the boxes she’d bought earlier that day. An orderly part of her rebelled when she looked at the files, no longer alphabetized, lying on their sides like beached whales. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered fiercely. “All we’re going to do is burn them.”

She remembered something Raven had told her. Your thought patterns are still trapped in your old life. That is what has brought modern civilization to the brink of extinction: an intransigent unwillingness to change anything.

As she thought about Raven, a vision of the tall, broad-shouldered Sidhe with his flowing black hair filled her mind; and the amulet Lillian had given her, nestled between her breasts on its golden chain, thrummed approvingly. Lara grasped the moonstone through the fabric of her teal silk blouse, enjoying its warmth. Raven and Lillian: two ancient creatures, somehow alive and well in the early years of the twenty-first century. Doesn’t matter why or how, I’m just glad they’re here, helping us.

Trevor strode back into her inner office. “Got another box ready?” he asked, looking confused. “I know you told me earlier, but I don’t remember.”

“Uh-huh.” She crooked a finger off to the side. “That one. I’ll just finish this one and cart it out. Then there’ll only be two more to fill and we can head home.”

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SUPERNATURALLY KISSED by Stacey Kennedy

SUPERNATURALLY KISSED by Stacey Kennedy

Ghosts harass and annoy Tess Jennings to save their souls. Sometimes she helps them. Other times she ignores them. But one ghost will give her no choice.

Kipp McGowen, a cop with the Memphis Police Department, will stop at nothing to gain her help, including using his ghostly charms to seduce her.

Tess must help solve the five year old cold case of Hannah Reid, because solving the case will save Kipp. But a bigger problem presents itself. Tess is falling in love with a ghost. Now she must decide. Keep Kipp forever or find the killer…

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An Excerpt From: SUPERNATURALLY KISSED

Copyright © STACEY KENNEDY, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

An icy wisp of air swept in behind me, causing my heel to twist as I stumbled. To the other pedestrians striding along the downtown Memphis street, the sensation would be brushed off as a cold breeze.

They were wrong. A spirit lingered here.

“Can you hear me?”

From the intrigue rolling in his voice, he hadn’t expected me to acknowledge him. Shit! I’d already given myself away. A mistake I’d rectify.

Without hesitation, I righted my stance and strode forward with purpose, forcing myself to remain deaf to the voice. If I ignored ghosts long enough, they moved on and searched out someone else who held the same irritating ability, whom I had yet to meet.

Much to my annoyance, the ghost stayed right on my heels and his presence remained strong behind me. The cold air at my back remained a contrast to the warm morning air in front of me. Every hair on my neck stood up and goose bumps pimpled a trail along my skin. If only I could rub them away, but I didn’t dare. Ignoring him would make him go away.

“You can hear me, can’t you?” the ghost asked again.

Spirits were typically harmless, but annoying. I’m dead, what’s going on, why am I a ghost—yada, yada, yada. I quickened my steps and made my way down Peabody Place in hopes he’d leave me alone.

“Wait.”

He sounded desperate, which meant a big headache for me. If I hadn’t worn my damn slingbacks, I would’ve tried to run and hide. But the three-inch Manolos and the tight, tailored gray skirt restrained my movements.

I passed Miss Polly’s Soul Food Café, and the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs drifted along the air. My empty stomach complained. My only thought after I woke had been caffeine. Now I wished I’d grabbed a muffin with my latté at Starbucks. With ten minutes to get to my desk, I couldn’t worry about such things.

My boss, Event Manager Dylan Cobb, would hand me my ass if I stepped into the office a minute late. Sadly, there’d never been a day I didn’t cater to his every need.

I approached Beale Street and sighed in relief, relishing the warmth surrounding me. Not only from the sun above—the spirit’s cold presence at my back had vanished. Pleased my dodge of him had worked, I took a sip of my energy in a cup and smiled. Coffee’s fantastic, the ghost is gone—life is good.

Another block passed under my heels before I reached the historical red-brick building. Randall Marketing, written in black block letters, decorated the striped green-and-white awning.

I opened the door to the office and strode in, greeted by a bubbly voice. “Good morning, Tess.”

“Mornin’.”

“Give me a moment here.” Doris shuffled paperwork around her desk, her auburn curls bouncing on her shoulders. The receptionist had always been messy, yet somehow organized. “There were a few messages on the voicemail for you.” She raised her head and held out the pink slips of paper. “A lovely day today, is it not?”

“Sure is.” So I lied. The ghost hadn’t kicked off my day on a high note. Not as if I’d tell her about my interaction with spirits. My ability to converse with spirits remained on a need-to-know basis, and as far as it concerned me, no one needed to know. I grabbed the messages from her hand. “Did your weekend treat you good?”

“I spent the entire weekend knee-deep in my garden.” Her cocoa-colored eyes lit up. “My best year ever, I’m hoping. You’ll have to come out and have a look-see.”

“I’d love to.” Doris treasured her gardens, so I tried to appear interested, even though my green thumb looked black.

Her smile brightened, but when the phone rang, she waved a goodbye and answered the call. “It’s another beautiful day here at Randall Marketing, how may I direct your call?”

Leaving her behind, I strode down the hall toward my office and sipped my coffee. The warmth slid down my throat and provided an immediate rush to my energy levels. At the third door on the right, I entered my bleak workspace with its pale-blue walls, closed the door behind me and approached the desk. I dropped down into the black leather chair and flipped through the messages. None were urgent enough to worry about now.

I powered up my computer, but a knock at the door had me glancing up. Before I got a word out, the door swished open and I cringed, fully aware of the looming trouble.

Caley, the officer manager and my best friend since the age of four, looked like a typical Barbie. Perfect skin, long flowing blonde hair and a body men drooled over. I might have been jealous of her perfection since I couldn’t pull off her looks even with a makeover—so maybe a little envious—but her appearance had always been a front. She was the devil in disguise.

She scowled, shutting the door behind her with a slam. “Do you mind explaining where you were all weekend?”

“At home.” I batted my lashes. “Why? Did you try to call me?”

She pointed her finger, narrowing her eyes at me. “Don’t you try that shit on me. I called you all weekend and your phone went straight to voicemail.”

“Hmm…” I pretended to ponder. “The battery must have died.” She had enough gall to just come over, but the little hint had been a subtle way of telling Caley to leave me alone.

“Liar.” She plopped down in the seat across from my desk. “Where were you? I wanted to go out.”

“Nowhere. Honestly, I vegged on the couch.”

Caley snorted. “You lead such an exciting life.”

My mouth parted to offer a snappy retort, but a cold wisp of air brushed across my skin, causing my lips to snap shut. Damn! I thought I’d got rid of him.

“Hello.” Caley snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Leave the aliens behind and return to Mother Earth.”

I blinked, trying to force my attention back to her, yet failing. The ghost knelt right beside Caley—not kneeling, of course; more like floating, since ghosts were never able to obtain physical contact with the world around them—and my focus held strong on him, unable to stop myself from ogling. He stared intently, with one crystal-blue eye, while the other was a chocolate color. His strong jaw, the muscles clenching along his cheeks, all spoke of power. But as he ran his hand through his untidy sandy-colored hair, his expression showed playfulness. His black tank top left his arms exposed and muscles upon muscles layered those arms.

“Anyways,” she said, dragging my gaze back to her. “I had to go out with Susanne because you left me high and dry.”

I laughed. Caley’s horny, twenty-year-old stepsister had the body that men chased after. “You did have the option to stay home, you know.”

Her eyes widened. “On a Saturday night?”

“Yeah, you know, get some popcorn, watch a movie and relax.”

She frowned. “If you don’t stop your grandma behavior, your va-jay-jay is going to shrivel up and die.”

The ghost chuckled.

His smooth laugh hit me like a cup of warm cocoa, causing my insides to melt. Nothing amused me. First off, Caley had been so wrong—maybe a little right—but I’d never admit to her accuracy aloud. Second, reacting in such a heated way to a ghost definitely didn’t hit my to-do list today.

“Excuse me.” I spoke not only to Caley, but also to the irritating ghost. “My va-jay-jay is just fine.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve still got some spunk.” She stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Because we’ve got a double date tonight.”

“A what?” Dear God!

She grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, my dearest Grammy, we’re going out.”

“With who?”

“Two guys I met on Saturday night. You’re coming with me, either willingly or unwillingly, so suck up your hesitations, babe, because saying no isn’t an option.”

“But it’s a Monday night.” Not saying a date didn’t sound like fun. A month had passed since my last attempt at dating—which failed miserably—but a man Caley chose while drunk? No thanks. My sex life might have been as dead as the sexy ghost in front of me, but I’d still search for a way out. “I have to work tomorrow.”

She wagged her finger in classic Caley fashion. “You’re a grandma.”

Most times, I respected her persistent personality. She never backed down, always dreamed big and went for the gold, but her grit hadn’t been all rays of sunshine. Her determination made her annoyingly tenacious. I had to agree or she’d never give up, and getting her out of my office sounded all too good. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, stop looking so pissy. We’ll have fun. Promise. I’ll come to your place at eight.” She opened the door, glanced over her shoulder and winked. “Leave the granny panties at home.”

* * * * *

The day came and went. My head pounded, not because my boss had been as demanding as any two-year-old, which he did often, but because the ghost hadn’t shut up. The past hours, even after I returned home to get ready for tonight,he’d tried his best to gain my attention. Good thing I’m great at tuning people—ghosts—out, or I would’ve caved after hour two.

“I’m not leaving until you admit you can hear me,” the ghost said.

With a flick of my shag-cut brown hair—that actually didn’t give me any trouble tonight—to dismiss him, I strode next to Caley, heading back toward the downtown core. Dressed in my low-riding, dark wash jeans and blue plaid three-quarter-length-sleeve top, tied to leave my midriff exposed, at least I looked half decent while I suffered through the embarrassing blind date.

The ghost’s tone came a little louder and more abrupt. “Dammit, woman! Will you stop ignoring me? It’s annoying.”

I’m annoying him? I nearly laughed at the ridiculous notion, but did not intend to give myself away. I’d held strong for nine hours. Soon, he’d catch the drift and piss off.

Caley knocked my arm. “Will you stop looking so tight assed?”

I glanced away from the sidewalk and smiled at her. “My ass is tight.” Okay, not eighteen-year-old tight, but only twenty-five now, I worked hard to keep things tight.

She chuckled. “You’re…”

“Damn right, you do, sweet cheeks,” the ghost said.

Caley stopped dead in her tracks, which caused me to stumble. “What’s got you blushing?”

I righted my stance, raised my hand to my face and, to my horror, my cheeks were warm. “I’m not blushing. I‑I‑I’m hot.”

“Unless you somehow turned into a lesbian and have fallen for your best friend,you’re acting weird.”

“I do love you.” At her widened eyes, I laughed. “But I don’t want you in the sack. Seriously, I’m just hot.”

The ghost’s voice deepened. “Ah, a way to grab your attention, I see.”

The little purr hanging off his tone made my stomach flip-flop. Clearly, I craved some attention and needed to get some in a bad way if I reacted in such a heated way to a non-living person.

I shoved the ridiculous reaction away and focused back on Caley, falling into stride with her. “Who’s the guy I’m hooking up with tonight?”

“He’s just your type.” She wiggled her brows. “You’re going to thank me later.”

“What do you mean my type?” I liked men, all types of them, and I’d never confine my options into a little box. Caley had apparently taped the box shut and shipped the package.

“He’s a pro baseball player and is home visiting his family for a couple days.”

“A pro, huh?” Maybe I had fooled myself into believing I didn’t have a type, because hearing baseball player made my interest rise. Images of skintight white pants and a scrumptious ass filled my mind.

“Yeah, he’s got the looks too.” She nudged her shoulder into mine. “And the money.”

“Women,” the ghost muttered.

I ignored the ghost like the ghost he was, turned onto Beale Street and Coyote Ugly Saloon appeared. A line of people outside meant an hour of waiting. Not as if I thought we’d have to wait. I had Caley with me, after all.

She snatched up my hand, yanking me forward, and hurried her steps. “Brandon,” she called out.

Two men turned toward her, and evidently, Caley knew my type better than I did, since either of the men would have fallen into the fantasy category.

“I’m so glad y’all came,” Brandon said.

Caley gave one of her pageant smiles. “We’re glad you asked us to come.”

“You must be Tess.”

I glanced toward hunk number two. He held the typical all-American look—brown hair, blue-eyed, charming smile, and with his dimple, I suspected he could woo his way into anyone’s bed. Maybe even mine if he played his cards right tonight.

“I’m Trent.”

“Nice to meet you.” I ogled his trim body and handsome face and caught sight of the big white D on his navy-blue hat. “You play for Detroit?”

He nodded. “Both Brandon and I do. We were lucky enough to get a little time off to see the family.”

“Figures, Detroit sucks,” the ghost said.

I smiled, keeping my focus on Trent, ignoring the annoyingly sexy voice by my ear.

“Come on, let’s go get a drink.” Caley wrapped her arm in Brandon’s and approached the bouncer. If one good thing came from her charismatic pushy attitude, she’d always been quite the social butterfly. No one, including me, ever said no to her.

“Did you grow up here in Memphis?” I asked Trent.

“Born and raised.”

Seemed as if he wanted to say more, but Caley interrupted with her typical impatient yell. “Come on, y’all.”

I glanced over my shoulder to find her waving her hands. “We’ve been summoned.”

Trent chuckled.

I strode past the irritated crowd, who didn’t have a Caley in their group to push their way through. Entering the bar, loud country music, accompanied by hoots and hollers, rang out around me. The stench of sweat made my nose crinkle. Caley pointed to a table across the way and I maneuvered through the partygoers, following her.

At the table, Trent held out a stool and gestured for me to sit. He sure played his cards right to a royal flush. I slid onto the stool, and he asked, “What’s your drink?”

“A cold beer sounds great.”

He winked. “My kind of lady.”

The boys headed to the bar. I glanced over at Caley, who bounced up and down on her seat in excitement. “I did good, right?”

I nodded, not at all ashamed to give her props for her choice. “He’s not only sexy as sin, but a gentleman too. You did great.”

The ghost snorted.

I’d forgotten all about him and had hoped he wouldn’t follow me into the bar. Nothing would ruin my excitement now. A long time had passed since I’d met anyone worth meeting. The ghost wouldn’t put a damper on my fun.

Within minutes, Trent and Brandon returned to the table with four beers in hand. I claimed a bottle, took a long sip and sighed in happiness. After the day I had, the beer comforted me. The alcohol refreshed the senses, revived the mood and removed the tension sitting heavy on my shoulders.

Trent grinned. “Looks like you needed a drink.”

I licked the dribble of beer from my lips. “I’ve been craving a beer all day long.” I set the bottle onto the table. “So, tell me, what’s it like to play baseball as a pro?”

I’ve never regretted saying words more in my life. One question led to a twenty-minute conversation I wished I’d never instigated. Caley, the traitor, had vanished onto the dance floor with Brandon, which left me with the pompous stud.

“I’ve grown as a player…” Trent went on.

“This guy is a fucking joke,” the ghost said.

I almost turned my head to nod, but of course refrained. I continued to listen to Trent’s words without truly hearing what he had to say. I merely muttered “yeah” or “cool” when appropriate.

“If I were him, I would’ve skipped the conversation all together and had you back in my bed the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He did not just say that! My stomach leapt up into my throat and my body warmed in places that shouldn’t from a ghost. He’d only said words—not used soft touches to entice me—but the way his voice carried into my soul, the effect had been similar to sweet caresses. “The coach has been pleased…”

The ghost’s tone dropped an octave. “I wouldn’t have wasted the time with small talk. I would’ve used my mouth to learn my way around your luscious curves and used your responses to tell me about the woman you are.”

I squirmed on the stool in an attempt to ignore the soft purr of his voice sending shivers down my spine. I even leaned in further toward Trent and tried to concentrate on his boring conversation.

“After I tasted your sweet skin and saw your desperation for more, I would kiss your mouth until your lips were rosy and swollen. I’d deepen the kiss by tangling my fingers through your hair and holding you close to feel all of me.”

I gulped, crossed my legs and squeezed them tight. He’s a ghost! Nothing that involved him should arouse me. But the pulse between my thighs declared he held the power to make me undone.

“I’d kiss my way along your jaw while I lowered my hand to trail along your stomach. Then I would seek to discover all those little places that make you squirm.”

He ran his finger from below my ear all the way to my nape. His touch forced my eyes closed. A cold shiver danced along my skin to leave goose bumps in its wake. Wild sensations stole my logical mind. My will to ignore him plummeted.

“Tess,” Caley shouted.

I opened my eyes, and after taking a moment to focus, I discovered not only Caley staring at me, but Trent and Brandon too.

She frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

I shook my head and released the breath stuck in my throat, which came out in a slow wisp of air. “Nothing—I’m fine.”

“I’d lower myself between those luscious legs of yours, tempting you and teasing you. I’d stare into those pretty green eyes of yours until they widened in pleasure.”

“You’re not fine,” Caley retorted. “Your face is bright red.”

“I’d wait until your hips arched toward me and begged me to take you. Then, and only then, would I give you what you desire.”

I grabbed my beer, took a big swig and a couple more. All eyes stared at me with blatant confusion. Part of me wanted to move away, while the other needed to hear more.

“Ah, Tess,” Caley whispered. “Seriously, are you okay?”

I paid my obvious inappropriate behavior no attention. The fantasy the ghost built in my mind needed to have a conclusion. “Yes. Yes. I’m good.”

“I would thrust against you, demanding you react to my intentions. You’d scream out and I would echo the sound with a moan of my own, as I used all my strength to satisfy you.”

Caley chuckled nervously.

I gripped the edge of the table in front of me and held on tight.

“You’d come into your orgasm because I’d leave you with no other choice. But I wouldn’t stop there.” He ran his finger along my exposed lower back and the coldness against my hot skin made me shiver. “Without giving you the chance to recover, I’d flip you over on your knees,” his tone dipped lower, “and fuck you senseless.”

I shot up from my seat, which caused the stool to slam back into the person behind me, who swore in return. “I have to go.”

Caley nodded. “Ah yeah, I think you do.”

Without another word—or a goodbye to the living men or the dead one who had got me all hot and bothered—I bolted from the bar and ran so hard my calves burned, reminding me of the three-inch heels strapped to my feet.

The ghost didn’t follow me and nothing pleased me more. I needed some space, time to return to reality or to pleasure the need out of me—either would do.

Within only a few minutes, I arrived at my condominium, which appeared more like an old textile factory, but inside were renovated modern apartments. The arousal burning inside me hadn’t vanished. The wetness between my thighs was a constant reminder of the ghost’s words.

I ran up the stairs while I took my keys out from my back pocket. At the thick mahogany wooden door, I raised my key pass to the scanner, grabbed the chrome door handle and swung it open.

Just three doors down, I opened the door to my condo before slamming it closed behind me. I didn’t bother to lock the door and did the only thing I thought of now. I sprinted to the bedroom, stripped out of my clothes and finished the fantasy the ghost had built in my mind.

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