The Ghost Hunter

by Lori Brighton

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

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

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

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

  “Hmm, yer using that excuse again?”

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

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

  She nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Okay, now what?” she asked.

  “We play.”

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

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

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

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

  She took yet another step back. “Seriously.”

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

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

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

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

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

  “Survive?”

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

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

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

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

  It stopped only an inch from her throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Lovely,” he whispered.

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

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

  “Cristian,” she whispered, her voice hesitant and uncertain.

  Kneeling, he focused on the soft blue material shielding her femininity. Slowly, he slid his fingers over her, tracing the triangular patch of satin. Ashley sucked in a sharp breath, sinking against the wall as if her knees would not hold her. Cristian swallowed hard, his pulse racing swiftly, urging him to continue. He slid his finger under the elastic band and pulled the material down. His cock hardened, his erection pulsing painfully against his shorts.

  Before she could protest, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the soft curls. She moaned, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. Unable to resist the taunting sensuality of her scent, he leaned forward and slid his tongue between her damp folds. She tasted of warm honey.

  “Oh God,” she whispered, trembling. “Cristian, please, no. We can’t do this.”

  He ignored her words and stroked her very being, tasting, sucking, while his hands cupped her arse and drew her closer. Hell, she tasted better than he thought she would. He’d wanted to ease his torment, but he’d only just added to his desire. Between her scent and her taste, he thought he might come. She whimpered, her knees buckling, but he held her upright. He knew she was on the verge of losing control. His tongue found that nub, and swept across the sensitive spot.

  Ashley cried out, her fingers tightening into his shoulders. Her entire body trembled, a violent shiver that reached down to his very soul. He pulled back, breathing harshly as he rested the side of his face against her smooth thigh.

  “You… you shouldn’t have done that.” She pushed frantically at his shoulders.

  Cristian stood, towering over her, surprised his own legs didn’t give out. He wanted more, damn it all. Wanted to shove his erection into her tight passage. His hands curled on either side of her head, his forearms braced against the wall as she pulled up her shorts.

  “Ye wanted that as much as I.”

  A fiery blush shot straight to her cheeks. “This is wrong.”

  And she was right. It was wrong. It was wrong what he’d done, and it was wrong that he wanted her more than he wanted life. He pulled away, her honey taste still dancing over his tongue, tormenting his already heated body. Lord, he could taste her forever.

  “Go then,” he said. “Run away, after all, it’s what you do best, isn’t it?”

  That hazel gaze flashed with surprise, then hurt. He’d crushed her, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. If she didn’t leave, he’d take her completely, and that couldn’t happen. She slipped away from him, and he forced himself not to pull her back. Without a word, she scooped up her shirt and bolted across the room, disappearing into the hall.

  Chapter 15

  Ashley couldn’t think about Cristian without wanting to jump on a plane headed to anywhere. Hell, without wanting to throw herself from the nearest mountain and pray for a quick death. With her luck she’d linger, laying there with only the memory of the man’s mouth on her lips, her breasts, her…

  Lord, she couldn’t think about it. She waved her hand in front of her face, growing uncomfortably hot. Outside the drive lay empty, his motorcycle gone. The parlor she stood in showed no signs of the sinful way she’d behaved.

  Well, technically, he’d started it. But still, she’d let him touch her that way. She was way more mental than she’d thought. But then again, it’d been so long since anyone had kissed her like that, anyone had shown so much interest in her body, in her. Her fiance had been more interested in his bank account and stocks.

  Her legs still trembled when she thought of Cristian’s touch. With a long sigh, she turned away from the window. Cristian had left almost immediately that morning, tearing down the drive like she’d been picking out the china pattern for their wedding.

  A loud thud sounded on the heavy wooden door. Thoughts of Cristian eagerly forgotten, Ashley made her way into the foyer. She knew once she opened that door, there was no going back, but what choice did she have?

  Taking in a deep breath, she pulled the door wide. The rising sun burst through the portal and highlighted dust particles floating in the foyer. She really needed to clean. But it was hard to find time, what, with fighting off Cristian and searching for lost ghosts.

  “Hey,” Camile said in way of a greeting.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  Camile hesitated on the front stoop. After their last meeting, Ashley didn’t blame the woman for being reluctant to enter her House of Horrors. Yet, she’d known she’d come, the woman was a fanatic about the paranormal and obviously loved a good mystery. But by calling her, Ashley had had to admit to herself, and basically to the world, that she was different.

  Camile hefted her burlap bag onto her narrow shoulders. “Sure, what’s the problem?”

  “Someone’s stealing my ghosts,” Ashl
ey burst out.

  Camile laughed, shaking her head, but there was only kindness and understanding in her green eyes. “I can honestly say I’ve never heard that before.”

  Ashley wished she could laugh with such ease. Part of her wanted to laugh, but most of her wanted to cry. She felt helpless, completely lacking of control where her life was concerned. Frankly, she was damn tired of feeling that way. “Another ghost disappeared.”

  Camile frowned, her mood sobering. “I see.”

  “Rachel,” Ashley explained. “She was a maid, I think during the late 1800s, early 1900s. Not sure.” Ashley started toward the steps that would take them to the second floor, Camile following. Maggie had appeared in her room early that morning, in a panic. “She’s gone. Vanished. We’ve tried everything and can’t find her.”

  “You think she went to the other side?”

  They moved up the steps, the floorboards creaking out a warning. “I guess, I’m not sure where else.” So why did the words just not feel right? Because everyone had told her that ghosts didn’t want to go onto the other side. The problem was, she didn’t trust everyone.

  “Well, then, what’s the problem?” Camile asked.

  Ashley took in a deep breath and hoped she’d believe her. “You see, ghosts don’t want to go to the other side.”

  Camile followed her down the hall. “Why’s that?”

  She looked like she believed her about as much as Ashley had believed Cristian when he’d told her ghosts were evil. She didn’t look forward to explaining what she’d uncovered. Camile might not be as accepting as Ashley had been. “They’re not all evil, don’t get me wrong. But apparently most ghosts have done something bad while alive. When you go to the afterlife you have to atone for your sins.”

  They moved into Ashley’s bedroom and she shut the door securely behind them, not wanting Cristian to overhear, if he should decide to come home.