by S. K. Yule
The urge—need—to see his face rode her hard. She yelled, waved her arms, even whistled, but no matter how she tried to get his attention, the back of his head remained in her view. His short, dark hair suited the shape of his head and the profile she’d briefly witnessed.
Why was he here again? Was she having some sort of premonition? Was he a message from the future? The questions and possibilities were endless, and she wanted answers, though her instincts told her she’d get none.
Then, like the night before, fog engulfed him, and he was gone.
Isabelle jerked awake in the bath, dropping her book into the water. “Damn it!”
She pulled out the book, now sopping wet, and shook as much water out of it as she dared to for fear of damaging it further. I guess that takes care of reading for tonight.
By tomorrow, she had no doubt the three-hundred-page book would look like five hundred pages, after it had dried and expanded into an accordion.
She got out, dried off, donned her undies and T-shirt, then burrowed under the covers in the spacious king-sized bed. Not one to watch much television but needing something to occupy her brain, she reached for the remote and pressed the power button. But the distraction didn’t work, and her dream man kept invading her mind.
Possessing the ability to take the smallest thing and nitpick it for hours, spin it into such a massive thing, she’d wound herself up into a taut ball of anxiety. Her tendency to over think bordered on neurosis, possibly OCD at times.
Something deep inside her was insistent that she was not wrong about this. His sudden appearance meant something, something profound. But what? She wondered if he had anything to do with Nina’s premonition.
There were thousands of possibilities as to why he’d made a sudden appearance in her dreams. He could be anything from a new mailman to…a future lover.
A shiver fluttered down her spine at the thought. She hadn’t been with a man for a long time, and he wasn’t an unwelcome prospect. True, she hadn’t seen his face, but with a body like his? Who cared?
Yeah, he’s probably a complete asshole, Isabelle.
An hour later, she lay in twisted sheets—a product of much tossing, flopping, and turning—and decided to give figuring out her dream guy and the whole Nina-life-changing-profound stuff a rest.
She snuggled deeper in the warm bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * * *
As she pulled onto the long drive that led to Mrs. Young’s house, she whistled under her breath. House was an understatement. This was a mansion.
The vast estate loomed before her, set on a neatly trimmed lawn that turned into gently rolling hills in the distance. The outside walls were gray stone, which reminded her of a castle. The black roof added a touch of modern uniqueness to the house’s appearance. It was as if modern met medieval, then had a baby. The combination was breathtaking. It was like nothing she had ever seen.
The finely packed white gravel of the drive crunched under her tires, and she was careful to keep a light touch on the gas pedal. She didn’t think Mrs. Young—or the gardener—would appreciate it if she sprayed rocks all over the place. Across from the house, two expensive-looking cars were parked side-by-side, and she eased into an empty spot beside them.
Isabelle glanced at the clock. Three-thirty. She preferred to get to her sessions early to look around and familiarize herself with the surroundings beforehand.
She locked the car out of habit, although she doubted it was necessary. No one could easily get past the gates she’d been buzzed through.
Within a few seconds of ringing the bell, the door swung open to reveal an older blonde woman with sparkling blue eyes and a ton of makeup. The woman’s face immediately lit up. “You must be Isabelle. Come in, come in.”
“Mrs. Young?”
The woman stepped back to allow Isabelle inside before closing the door behind her. “Please call me Scarlett. When people call me Mrs. Young, it makes me feel old.” She smiled and leaned closer. “Kind of ironic, huh? Mrs. Young makes me feel old.”
Isabelle liked her immediately. With a laugh, she said, “Scarlett, it is very nice to meet you.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you too, dear. I’m looking forward to our appointment. I need to speak to my Harry about something important. I don’t think I can move on with my life until I do.”
Isabelle hoped for Scarlett’s sake that Harry would make an appearance and be in the mood to talk. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind showing me around a little, maybe specifically to some of Harry’s favorite places in the house?”
“Yes! Of course.”
Scarlett began walking, and Isabelle followed.
Holy hell. This place had to be worth a fortune. Everywhere Isabelle looked was marble, granite, or exotic-looking, rich wood. The staircase treads were black marble with cream swirls, and the banister was hand-carved cherry. Someone had expensive taste, and at this point she wasn’t sure if it was Scarlett or the late Harry.
Isabelle began sensing strong feelings of affection for the house. She hoped they were Harry’s. “How long were you and Harry together?”
“Forty-five glorious years. I loved him so.” Scarlett’s eyes glazed over, and she appeared to go off into her own world of memories. “I would never do anything to hurt my Harry. That’s why I was desperate to talk to you. You see, I don’t want to stay in this big house by myself, but I know how much Harry loved this place. I want his approval before I sell it. I can’t do it unless I know he is okay with it.”
So it was Harry who held the most affection for this place.
“I see.” Isabelle eyed the huge colorful paintings, hand painted vases with exotic floral arrangements, and the shiny black baby grand piano in the sitting room they now stood in. “It is a beautiful place.”
“It is beautiful, I agree, but it’s too spacious for me on my own. Actually, I thought it was too big for the two of us, but Harry loved it. We had originally planned to fill it with children, but we weren’t able to have any.” Scarlett’s face suddenly appeared even older, and sadness darkened her eyes as her mind, no doubt, wandered once again to old dreams—this time dreams that never saw fruition. “We had many parties and gatherings here, though. Those were phenomenal times.”
Isabelle momentarily wondered why the two never adopted, but quickly decided it was none of her business. Harry’s presence was strong, and instincts told her the session would go off without a hitch. “When you are ready, we can begin.”
“Oh! That would be—”
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”
Isabelle started at the sound of the raspy, deep voice that sent shivers along her spine. She turned and came face-to-face with one of the most strikingly handsome men she had ever seen. He was tall, dark, and dressed spectacularly. His gray eyes were clear, and stared through her. When she swallowed, the saliva chose that moment to refuse to go down without resembling a croaking frog, which enticed heat to flush her cheeks, no doubt tinting them with a lovely shade of red.
“No. Please come in.” Scarlett motioned for him to stand next to her where he stood facing Isabelle. “Cyrus, this is Isabelle, the woman I told you about earlier. Isabelle, this is Cyrus. He is new in town and is staying with me until he finds a place to live. When I bumped into him today, I figured I had more than enough room in this big old house, and he seems like such a charming boy.”
* * * *
Cyrus barely contained a snort. Boy, wouldn’t she shit sideways if she knew he was a demon?
He found he truly liked Scarlett. She was a genuinely nice, caring lady with a big heart. Isabelle, on the other hand, he’d had doubts about even before they met. Earlier, when Scarlett filled him in on what Isabelle was coming to do, right off, he knew it was bullshit. No human was capable of doing what Isabelle claimed she could do.
While her golden-brown hair, brown eyes, and full lips put her firmly in the cute category, there was something even more alluring about her tha
t he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Most probably would not notice the extra shine or thickness of her locks, or the flecks of green that surrounded the chocolate of her eyes, but his body twitched in anticipation of being close to such an attractive woman. He really needed to get laid.
Suddenly, it dawned on him what the something more about her was. He could not read her mind. He’d never met a human whose thoughts he could not read. This only spiked his curiosity further.
He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Izzy. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”
The anger that sparkled in her eyes before she forced it under control told him that she did mind. He forced a chuckle down, sure that the only reason she hadn’t let him have it was because of Scarlett, and he was fairly certain that if she and he were alone, she wouldn’t have a problem unleashing on him. He liked that in a woman. The simpering, pouting types held little appeal for him. Women who spoke their minds, who were bold, who weren’t afraid to show it when they were pissed off, were much more interesting.
Too bad he couldn’t get inside that brain of hers. He’d love to be a fly on the wall of her mind, listening to all the malicious thoughts she was having about him. True, his cocky nature had a way of popping out, but he drew the line at arrogance and overconfidence. The abhorrent things he’d witnessed during his lengthy existence had long ago stomped out any inclination to play the meek little boy. It was not his in his nature to disrespect anyone just for the hell of it, but nor would he put up with any lip without giving as good as he got.
He gave Izzy—and he was going to call her Izzy whether she liked it or not—a big smile. Once again, he was rewarded by the spark of anger in her eyes. She was a smart one, aware that he was fucking with her. He wondered what emotion would dance in those lovely eyes if she realized how many ways he wanted to fuck with her. Would her anger burn brighter? Or would a hint of dark desire creep in?
* * * *
Isabelle took Cyrus’s hand, and watched as even white teeth were exposed one by one by his sharky grin. So he was one of those men. The type who knew he was good looking and liked to use it.
“I prefer Isabelle,” she said.
She nearly missed it, but she was sure a flash of something entered his cool gray eyes at her casual dismissal. It was gone in an instant, and she liked the fact she was the one to cause it. He was probably used to women simpering all over him.
He let go of her hand only after she tugged on it a couple of times. “Scarlett told me,” he said, “about your so-called abilities. Fascinating.”
Isabelle’s cheeks heated once again, partly in anger and partly in embarrassment. He was a skeptic. She would show him. “I assure you that my so-called abilities are real. And yes, they are actually remarkably fascinating.”
Scarlett wrung her hands as she looked back and forth from Cyrus to Isabelle. She’d obviously picked up on the building tension. “I hope you don’t mind, dear, but I asked Cyrus to sit in on the session.”
He grinned again and raised one brow. “Yeah, Izzy, you don’t mind, do you?”
Isabelle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My name is Isabelle, and no, I don’t mind at all. As long as you keep quiet and don’t interrupt. I must be able to concentrate.”
She watched as Cyrus sat on a burgundy colored settee. Isabelle asked Scarlett to sit in one of two matching chairs across from him before taking the remaining one next to her.
Isabelle scooted the chair a little closer to Scarlett. “I’m going to need a couple of minutes of silence to prepare myself.”
She slipped a small bottle of anchoring potion from her purse and sipped it slowly until it was gone, then slid the empty bottle back into her purse and placed it on the floor beside her chair.
“What was that?”
Isabelle shot Cyrus a cold stare. It figured he couldn’t be quiet even when she had specifically asked him to be, not more than a minute ago.
“It’s a potion to keep my soul safe during the possession.” Her face flamed in anger once again when he smirked at her. “Look, you are going to have to be quiet from now on until I’m done, or I won’t be able to do this.”
He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged. “Sorry, I promise you won’t hear another word from me until after you are finished.”
Isabelle sighed and took Scarlett’s hands in her own. She usually didn’t touch her clients, but in this particular situation, intuition told her it was the right thing to do. Questioning her instincts was something she rarely did.
She closed her eyes and quietly chanted the invitation.
“Spirit of the afterlife,
Come and ease your loved one’s strife;
I bestow you use of the temple of my soul,
Temporarily, and only if you assent to leave it whole.”
* * * *
Cyrus had never heard such a blatant invitation for possession. He was about to tell Izzy she was carrying her scam too far and playing a dangerous game when he noticed something floating through the air toward her.
He sat up straighter and tensed in astonishment. Holy shit! He could make out the outline of the hovering soul. When it melded with her body, he blinked, not quite believing what he was seeing.
In all of his long existence, he’d never witnessed a human do such a thing—not intentionally anyway. This had to be some kind of parlor trick. Izzy couldn’t be capable of inviting spirits into her body and still be breathing.
But, magic, it was not. The possession had happened before his own eyes.
Cyrus was capable of removing the possessing soul from her body, but he would have to act quickly. Once he left his own body, he had around five minutes—give or take—to get back into it before it died. The last thing he wanted to do was leave a dead body on Scarlett’s settee.
Every instinct he had screamed to save her. An instant before he acted upon that innate impulse, Izzy began having a conversation with Scarlett. Or, rather, Harry was having a conversation with his widow using Izzy’s body.
Cyrus’s jaw nearly hit the floor. No possible way could Harry be fighting Izzy for her body and conducting a civilized conversation at the same time.
He watched in astonishment as Scarlett and Harry carried on for about ten minutes. Scarlett hugged Izzy, and Harry’s soul left her body and floated away.
How in the hell had she pulled it off and lived? It wasn’t ‘smoke and mirrors,’ as he’d originally thought. No illusion was that flawless.
Did she not realize the danger she’d subjected herself to? And how many times had she done this before? Fury raged inside him at her ignorance, and he wanted to shake some sense into her.
Chapter Five
Isabelle leaned back in the chair and rested her head against the soft cushion. She was exhausted as usual. Glancing from under half-closed lids at Cyrus’s shocked expression, she barely contained the giggle bubbling up in her throat. Maybe she had made a believer out of him after all. She mentally shrugged and ignored him before turning her attention to Scarlett, who was dabbing the last remnants of tears from her cheeks with a wadded-up tissue.
Harry had given her his blessing to sell the house. He had only ever wanted Scarlett to be happy, and wished her to do whatever she needed to in order to find contentment until they were together once again.
Isabelle eased out of her seat. “I suppose I should be going now.”
Before she could take a step, Scarlett stopped her. “Isabelle, please don’t go. I’m planning a fabulous dinner, and I would love it if you would join us and stay the night. As you’ve seen, I have more than enough room, and I want to celebrate. I feel free now that I have Harry’s blessing to sell this big old place.”
If Cyrus hadn’t been present, she would have said yes instantly. He made her uneasy. Probably because he was too damned good-looking, came across as a smug asshole, and, even though he hadn’t voiced the words, clearly thought her a liar and a fake. So instead, she said, “I can’t tell you how
happy that makes me, but I don’t want to impose.”
“You won’t impose. In fact, I welcome you to stay as long as you would like. Are you aware that there is a snowstorm coming in tonight? I would feel terrible if you were caught out in it.”
Great. A snowstorm. They could be brutal and deadly in this part of Colorado. Why did she never bother to check the forecast before she went on trips?
Would it be so horrible to stay in this wonderful mansion? She looked around. No, it wouldn’t. If she tried hard enough, she could avoid Cyrus.
She sighed and relaxed her shoulders, partly in excitement and partly in resignation. “Thank you, Scarlett. I certainly don’t wish to get stranded in a blizzard. I’ll stay. Do I have time to rest for a bit and freshen up before dinner?”
“Yes, of course! Cyrus, will you be a dear and show Isabelle to the room next to yours, so I can go check that the chef is getting everything prepared correctly?”
Isabelle wanted to ask Scarlett if there was a different room, maybe one on the opposite side of the house from Cyrus’s, but her manners stopped her from protesting her host’s generosity.
“I would be happy to,” Cyrus said. He waited until Scarlett walked away before turning to Isabelle. “Do you have any bags you need brought in?”
Oh, the man was too good-looking and too cocky in his laid-back, egotistical manner. Not to mention infuriating. He was in for a humongous surprise where she was concerned. Yeah, he was gorgeous, but she was no simpering idiot for an easy smile and to-die-for lips.
“Yes, just one,” she replied. “I’ll go get it.”
“I’ll come with you.”
He nearly crashed into her when she suddenly stopped. “Thank you, but I can get it myself.”
God, couldn’t he cut her a break? He was practically on top of her, and he smelled fantastic, spicy, exotic and male. She barely kept from leaning in to take a better sniff. Snap out of it, Isabelle!
There was something different about him, something that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She lectured herself on all the reasons she should continue to dislike him. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to ignore him, treat him with cool nonchalance, her eyes betrayed her, her gaze roaming his magnificent body every time her guard slipped.
