Skin Deep (Ink & Brazen Women)

by Cassie Leigh

  ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE HAUNTED ROMANCE SERIES

  Follow You Anywhere

  Available now from Broken Typewriter Press

  Looking in the past, two souls follow their intuition to something more...

  BETTINA is letting go of the horrors of her past and starting over on her own terms. Used to the confines of her ex-husband’s harsh restrictions, with her new friends at her side, she’s excited to go on her first adventure in her unfamiliar small town life—a ghost hunt of an old Victorian boarding house. When strange events begin to emerge, Bettina is convinced something followed her home. He might not be the only one who followed.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek.

  By all rights, Seth should only have one thing on his mind: scare them off.

  He didn’t much like the look of the first two. The small one with the austere black hair was definitely a skeptic, and the colorful one looked tough. He had seen their kind before. They came with their scientific instruments, intent to prove to the world that every haunting was just misunderstood natural occurrences. It made them harder to convince to run, but it was a game he hadn’t lost yet.

  Through the years, it had taken him time to refine his scare tactics. The tools in his arsenal ranged from disembodied voices to moving objects. The only line he chose not to cross was violence, especially when those he chased off where of the female persuasion.

  The key was to find a target who would make the others believe. The redhead who pranced around like a nervous spaniel would do nicely. Too bad he couldn’t bring himself to use her like that. When he was alive, she was just the sort of girl next door he would have mooned over. Hell, he was doing it now.

  There was something about her. Whatever it was, it halted his usual determination to wallow in misery. It might have been her timid approach to his front porch or the way she ran in through the front door because of its settling groan. Or it may have been that her auburn curls reminded him of autumn leaves and her amber eyes glowed like apple cider that once warmed his body in the same way that her skittish gaze warmed his soul. He may not welcome the intrusion, but dead didn’t make him immune to her physical charms. It just left him without the means to make them lead anywhere useful.

  He followed her as she moved around the table, gingerly perusing the instruments that her friends believed would reveal his presence.

  “Tell me your name, beautiful.”

  “Amanda, I’ve got camera one and two set up where we talked about. Bettina, would you like to come with me while I take some base EMF readings?” The blue-haired girl poked her head around the doorframe from the kitchen.

  Loud modern colors aside, the blue-haired friend reminded him of the women painted on the sides of the planes he had occasionally seen on base—harmless reminders of home meant to keep the boys happy.

  His gaze followed hers, interested to see which one would respond and conveniently provide his answer. When the little one draped in black looked up from her screen, Seth grumbled his disappointment.

  “Go with Charity and she can show you how we do things.” From her answer, he assumed the one hiding behind the laptop must be Amanda.

  “Um—sure, why not.” His red head looked between her two friends before continuing. “What do you need me to do?”

  Bettina. He turned the name over in his mind as he watched her stroke the side of her flannel covered arms as if to ward off a chill. His gaze slid down her body, taking in the way her oversized flannel shirt grazed the tops of her thighs. The uniqueness of her name suited her equally distinctive beauty.

  “Grab an IR camera and come on,” Charity ordered.

  Bettina looked down again at the table full of equipment and frowned.

  Amanda reached over and picked up a device, shoving it at Bettina. “This one.”

  “Oh—thanks.” She took the camera, a shy smile quirked up the corner of her full lips. “You guys are going to have to be more specific with me for a while.”

  Charity moved into the room and grabbed another device off the table, along with a flashlight. “You follow me with the camera on and I’ll take the readings. We can start in the basement, and I’ll explain things to you as I go.”

  Flipping open the tiny screen, Bettina nodded and together the women started towards the back of the house. Charity moved like a cat. Based on the saunter and sway of her hips she was secure in herself. In contrast, Bettina moved more like a timid mouse, trying to sneak away from the cat without notice.

  Seth took a moment to enjoy the view Bettina offered before following. Black cotton leggings clung to the prettiest legs he had seen in years. Bettina wore them tucked into worn leather boots that came up to her knees and hugged just as tightly as the leggings. The fashion of this decade really was an improvement. It would be a shame to hide all that under the layers of a loose skirt.

  If he still lived, she would be enticement enough to turn on the charm, something he never felt the need to do after the war and his recovery in Paris. No, he had been obsessed with something else.

  Seth had been wallowing in his anger for so long that he had nearly forgotten what it felt like. Maybe, she could stay a little while. It was nice not to feel that burden of anger hanging on his every step, like the chains that Jacob Marley brandished in A Christmas Carol. He had built that chain link by link though the last years of his short life.

  Their silent passage to the back of the house ended with the squeal of hinges that hadn’t been oiled since he had successfully driven out the last owners of this house. Bettina shifted nervously behind her friend, device open and pointed over Charity’s shoulder to peek into the darkness ahead.

  Charity traipsed down the stairs as if dank old basements were nothing to worry over.

  His girl approached the open door as if it was a gaping mouth intent to swallow her. She took a deep breath and threw herself into the inky oblivion. The rapid thud of her footfalls racing down the stairs echoed up at him.

  Seth chuckled to himself as he followed. He located her in the darkness through the glow of flashlights and her rapid panting. Someone should tell her that if she didn’t stop hyperventilating she would faint.

  Having found her, this was as far as he could bring himself to wait before he touched her. Just a light touch, stroking the back of her shaking hand. He could say she needed the comfort but he would only be lying to himself. A selfish need to feel contact, muted though it was, drove his actions.

  A sharp indrawn breath punctuated Bettina’s still rapid breathing.

  Her friend swung the flashlight up at Bettina’s face. “You gonna make it, Red?”

  Bettina slowed her breathing by small increments, but he could see her shaking like those autumn leaves her hair resembled, clinging for purchase in the wind. “I’ll be fine. Don’t let me keep you from what you need to do.”

  No scream. Seth had expected more from a woman who seemed terrified by every step she took. But with cobwebs hanging from the floor joists above them, she may have discounted it as nothing.

  Making her scream hadn’t been the point of the contact anyway, and that should have sent him back up the stairs away from her. No good could come from this fascination with her. After all of that, there was only tingling in his fingers; he hadn’t really felt her at all.

  “You just need a distraction.” Charity’s voice was buoyant in the darkness. Clearly, she was in her element. “Have you ever watched one of those ghost hunting shows that talked about EMFs, EVPs—that kinda thing?”

  Bettina shook her head in the darkness, sighed and then answered aloud, “Not really.”

  “That’s okay, I can fill in the gaps. I just didn’t want to tell you things you already had a handle on.” Charity paused to scan a pipe with her meter and then continued on her circuit of the utilitarian space. “EMF stands for electromagnetic field and is man-made. So the point of what I’m doing is to establish what’s normal for this house, before we stir anything up by asking questions.”

&nbs
p; “You’ve already stirred something up,” Seth said, although he knew they couldn’t hear. Sometimes he just needed the sound of his own voice to stave off his impending madness. It hovered over him in the endless tedium like a storm about to break.

  Charity continued on her lecture. “Later if we observe a spike or a sudden drop we look for a reason. Sometimes it’s a light switch got turned on, but other times—let’s just say when we review the footage, we find something.”

  “Do you guys usually find changes?” Bettina’s voice squeaked her question, like a mouse afraid to hear about the cat next door.

  Charity shrugged, continuing to wander. “Not everywhere we go and this is the first time we’ve been able to get in here. Probably the last time too. Still don’t know how Amanda pulled that one off. Been trying to get in here forever it seems like.”

  Hanging on every word, Seth pulled it apart for anything useful. He may have wanted them gone before, but now the idea that this could be their only time here chilled his already icy veins. He was just getting used to the idea that he could like having someone here, especially Bettina. That she would leave—that just couldn’t stand.

  Seth reached for Bettina again, like a child stroking a favorite blanket for comfort. This time he stroked the blossom of her cheek, gliding his hand across her face and then lifting the curtain of her dark red hair to one side.

  Her spine straightened and she glanced up, her eyes scanning the exposed joists above them. “Charity,” she whispered. “Something is touching me.”

  DO YOU LIKE A YOUR ROMANCE THAT WILL MAKE YOU HOWL?

  CHECK OUT THE USHERS RUN PACK SERIES BY CASSIE LEIGH

  Home For The Howliday

  Available now from Broken Typewriter Press

  He may have given up the prize fighting, but he’s in for the fight of his life…

  Walking away from his wolf pack duties and the woman he loved was the hardest thing Gunner Thoren ever did. Now, ten years later the successful MMA fighter is giving up the cage, and reclaiming what’s always been his. Will the howliday season help him win back his mate in time for Christmas?

  Turn the page for a sneak peek.

  The sultry croon of “Santa Baby” blaring through the crowded cabin might as well have been nails on a chalkboard to Gunner Thoren. The eggnog and holiday cookie smorgasbord only added to his irritation. For the hundredth time he questioned his motivation for coming back into the fold. He’d walked away from a good thing in Las Vegas, to return home to the wolf-pack town of Ushers Run, Iowa. “Eventually you all come home.” Gunner shook the pack-elder’s voice from his already crowded mind. He’d met with the old man along with the pack-leader, Ambrose. It was a lofty position for his best friend to ascend to in Gunner’s absence. Then Ambrose blindsided him with a compulsory invitation to attend the festivities this evening. It was intended for the younger members. Some crap about pack bonding.

  Gunner just wanted to enjoy being in nature. It was the only part of being home that he looked forward to after a decade of self-imposed exile. The bright lights of Las Vegas lacked a forest for his wolf to run in. Wolves didn’t belong skulking through back alleys and desert landscapes. At least Ambrose picked a nice spot in the woods for the cabin he’d designed for the pack’s use. Too bad it was currently being overrun with someone’s bastardized idea of Christmas cheer.

  From his spot in the corner, Gunner sneered at the garish holiday sweaters covered in ice skating reindeer and penguins decorating evergreen trees. The pack he was born to, or at least this generation of it, might be happy to prance around like drunken fools, but he wouldn’t be caught dead participating in such stupidity. His brother, Asher, loped toward him from across the room in the easy way that came with overstimulated youth. Battery-powered twinkle lights wrapped around the kid’s snowflake-covered sweater. It must have come out of their grandmother’s closet.

  Asher grinned up at him. “You aren’t in party gear, bro!”

  Gunner growled and hunkered down in his corner, unwilling to acknowledge the fool. This kid was why he gave up fighting and the title shot he had worked for years to achieve. Now he would run his family’s business—the local gym. With their father’s passing, his mother needed the help keeping it from going under and his kid brother from tearing down half the town with his idiocy. Less than two years until he graduated and Gunner could take off again. He was already counting down the days.

  “Never fear,” Asher said, undaunted by Gunner’s stoicism. “I knew it would happen, so I brought an extra.”

  Asher slapped his brother’s back and gave him an ineffective shove that left the kid rubbing the sting out of his hand. Gunner stood still as a mountain, which he was as a middleweight fighter. He fought at 185 pounds but walked around closer to 220 between fights.

  “Nothing’s wrong with my sweater,” Gunner groused. He’d worn a normal sweater, a traditional Scandinavian pattern in grey and navy. A respectable sweater, not some castoff thrift store reject.

  “You’re not getting into the spirit,” Asher said, his tone sullen and accusatory.

  Feminine laughter that was equal parts wicked and ethereal rose above the chaotic jumble of voices and crappy Christmas pop-music. Gunner tuned out the useless prattle that continued to dump out of his brother’s mouth, searching for the owner of that laugh as if it was a homing beacon meant to draw him in.

  “You’ve got enough for both of us.” Gunner answered his brother to stop the distracting noise. He searched the nameless faces. The laughter had stopped but he knew he hadn’t imagined its siren song.

  That’s when Gunner saw her. The reason he left town in the first place—Noelle Hiver. She moved like a Nordic goddess come to life—a young and beautiful version of the Norns—as she stood in front of a tinsel-draped tree talking with her hands as if they were weaving a tapestry to illustrate her words. The multicolored lights that reflected off the metallic decorations shone on her like a rainbow spotlight.

  The little vixen was a dangerous temptation. Her white sweater dress embroidered with silver poinsettias hugged her lithe curves in places he knew his eyes shouldn’t linger—but he couldn’t stop himself, just like before. No one should look at the pack-leader’s half-sister that way, not if he wanted to keep his eyes. His illicit gaze continued the treacherous journey north to wild platinum blonde hair that skimmed her slender shoulders. He wanted a closer look, perilous as it was. He needed to know if she still wore feathers braided in the riotous curls.

  Noelle again laughed at something her companion said, a woman who didn’t exist as far as Gunner was concerned, and it rang like bells calling him home. She glanced his way and his heart nearly stopped. Those eyes, guarded aquamarine glaciers, bored into him from across the room and he was curious what the pack abomination had made of herself.

  He’d never called her that, but nearly everyone they knew had. A half-breed shifter witch was not welcome among purebred werewolves, but her brother Ambrose, Gunner’s best friend, had changed that when he took over, hadn’t he? At least for this one pack he had. Gunner had never worried about any of that as she was just Noelle to him.

  He closed his eyes against visions of the past that clawed to the surface of his mind and realized his brother was still talking. “Bro, hotties heading our way. It’s too late to fix you now.” This time when Asher shoved, Gunner moved as his eyes flew open. Just a step closer to her but it was as if he jumped a chasm.

  Noelle sauntered toward him, her friend in tow. A sweet smile spread across her pouty pink lips. A knowing smile. Gunner steeled himself against its impact. He knew this would come when he made the choice to return home. He just wasn’t ready to see her tonight or for her to see him. But those lips brought a flash he’d give anything to forget, just to relieve the torture.

  An image of her broke through, unbidden, from the past. That same smile as she sat waiting for him in the passenger seat of his Camaro on another winter night, reaching for something other than the gear shift, or at
least not the one that belonged in his car.

  “Gunner, fancy seeing you here.” Noelle’s silken voice pulled him out of the past.

  “You’re brother’s invite clearly stated that I didn’t have a choice.”

  Noelle smiled at the growl in his voice, clearly finding some kind of perverse pleasure in his words.

  Asher glanced from Gunner to Noelle. “Dude, you know her?”

  COMING SOON FROM CASSIE LEIGH…

  ..................

  HAUNTED ROMANCE SERIES

  Redeem My Broken Soul (coming soon)

  USHERS RUN PACK

  Bear Knuckle Baby (coming soon)

  INK & BRAZEN WOMEN

  Leading Man (coming soon)

  How About Never (coming soon)

  MORE BY CASSIE LEIGH

  HAUNTED ROMANCE

  Until Death Do Us Part

  Follow You Anywhere (Haunted Romance Book 2)

  USHERS RUN PACK

  Home for the Howliday (Ushers Run Pack Book 1)

  OTHER BOOKS

  Until Death Do Us Part

  Follow You Anywhere (Haunted Romance Book 2)

  Home for the Howliday (Ushers Run Pack Book 1)

  SEE MORE AT CASSIE LEIGH’S AUTHOR PAGE