by Denise Agnew
“Oh, I don’t know. You sure knew how to handle me. You kept calm when I was going off the deep end about you leaving Pine Forest.”
Memories flowed strong inside Clarissa, a fountain of images and regrets she’d long forgotten until this moment. A mingling of disappointment for what never was and could never be swamped her. Old regret bit like teeth into her recollections.
She took a deep breath. “We both didn’t know what we were doing then.”
“That’s for sure.” His voice held a little sarcasm. “I know I’ll never make mistakes like that again.”
Damn him. Why did he have to remind her of her stupidity? “Maybe we should finish up and get out of here.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “So, we need to get you another meter?”
He looked down at the instrument. “Look at that. It’s working again. Weird.”
“Ha. Nothing unusual is actually weird in this town. Remember that.”
They continued, and this time she kept her attention on the ground. “So if you’re a skeptic about supernatural phenomena, why did you turn to psychic research? You could have gone on to be another type of scientist.”
“I am another type of scientist, remember? Psychology?”
“How easily I forget.” She took a photo of a contorted tree, menacing clouds rearing behind it in the afternoon sky. “How long have you been into the psychic research side of things?”
“About three years.”
“And before that?”
“I was a private practice therapist.”
“That didn’t satisfy you any more, I take it?”
He shrugged, his movement nonchalant. “I wanted to research the phenomena that made people believe in things that weren’t there. I wanted to prove to people that psychic phenomena are a figment of the imagination.”
Smiling, she turned her camera on him and clicked off one picture. “I think you’re going to fail miserably. You’re going to spend your entire life chasing something and never have the answer.”
She saw his deep frown through the camera lens as she snapped one more photo of him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She walked on and he caught up to her seconds later. “You’ve got an edge I don’t remember you having when you left Pine Forest. I’m not sure I like it.”
Without looking at him or slackening her pace, she said, “Yes, I’ve changed. I’m not the same hopeful, grateful girl you knew. My edge, as you call it, is maturity. I know what I want, and I don’t need anyone to tell me it’s okay to want it.”
His silence weighed heavy in the air. She knew she’d taken him off guard with her honesty. Okay, her bluntness. Her edge had sharpened over the years, and she didn’t regret it.
“So you put down others to make yourself feel good.”
Shocked, she stopped. He came to halt beside her, reading his meter apparently forgotten. She gaped at him a minute, then found an indulgent smile somewhere.
How can I grin without feeling like tearing his arrogant head off?
“I’m sorry if you felt I was putting you down when I said you wouldn’t be able to debunk psychic phenomena. It wasn’t my intention to downgrade you. I was giving you what I believe about the supernatural. Yes, there’s much we don’t know about the world. I don’t think anyone knows all the answers until we’re dead. Before that it is speculation and small truths revealed here and there.” She took a deep breath, on a roll. “This is one of the reasons why I said you and I shouldn’t work together. My opinions have nothing to do with my confidence in you as a psychologist. It has to do with the phenomena itself. The mysteries curious people chase after aren’t ultimately definable. I learned that a long time ago.”
“Then why are you here taking photographs? Aren’t you investigating psychic phenomena in your books?”
She pulled her stocking cap down over her hair a little more as a crisp wind picked up. “Not really. I’m cataloging it.”
“How?”
“I can see you haven’t read one of my books.”
He shifted, a flicker of discomfort in his eyes. “No.”
“I take photos of the mysterious. By giving people a glimpse of what I see in the supernatural world. It’s an art form to make ordinary things look scary, or to take pictures of scary things and make them seem even more frightening.”
He smiled. “You always did love Halloween.”
“Still my favorite holiday, I’ll admit. Except for Easter. I still like hunting for eggs.”
That made him laugh.
They walked on in silence for a few more minutes, and Clarissa drank in the graveyard like a woman in desperate need for water. She loved this place and the atmosphere.
“This place has such personality. Like it’s a living, breathing person,” she said. “It’s almost like evil stopped here for a break, then left.”
“Now that sounds like something to put in a book.” He snorted a soft laugh. “Wait a minute. You don’t still have those strange…visions, do you?”
Exasperation reared inside her, but she kept ire in check. Better to give him a calm, smooth façade even though she wanted to belt him. “I’ve never stopped having them.”
A tolerant expression replaced his teasing. Before he could make another comment, she moved off. She snapped photograph after photograph, conscious of her discomfort at being around Jim and his disbelieving personality. She meandered as he concentrated on making notes on a little pad he produced from his jeans pocket. Putting distance between them seemed like the best way for her to come to grips. Jim Leggett had changed a little, but not as much as he claimed. Had she come out here hoping he might be different and they might rekindle something?
Then again, would any man support her in her endeavors? Believe her when she told him that Pine Forest would be destroyed on Halloween?
She headed toward a crypt on a low hill. Sitting alone with a few trees to shelter it, the crypt looked like a small Greek temple perched lonely and forlorn. She stopped at the bottom of the hill and took photos, then moved onward. As she walked up the slope she noted the hillside had been spared most of the snow, the rocky surface easier to navigate.
Clarissa imagined the person who’d been buried here had been wealthy or revered in some way. Her muscles drew tight the closer she came to the crypt. A strange throbbing started in her temples and she took a deep breath. When she reached the top of the hill a wave of apprehension floated over her, her heart pounding with a bizarre fear she hadn’t tasted even when she’d been mugged. Her mouth went dry and she swallowed hard. The crypt door was smashed in, and at the angle she couldn’t see much inside. Good thing she’d brought the right lens for taking shots in the dim interior. Still…
Something was here.
She felt it in each joint and sinew as she stopped and breathed deeply. She had to keep control or let the panic swell and burst. Running and screaming was an alternative, but not dignified. Since she didn’t plan on letting Mr. Skeptic see her freak out.
Jim stood at the bottom of the hill. “This is weird. The meter is going nuts. I’m getting extreme readings right here.”
Why doesn’t that surprise me?
She gestured at him. “Come on up and see what you can find.”
Ignoring her nervousness, she stepped inside the crypt and stood at the top step. She would need three more steps down to reach in the interior.
She whispered to herself, “Come on, girl, don’t wuss out on me now.”
One step. Two. She wished she’d brought a flashlight, and then wondered if Jim brought one. She started to turn back when the floor broke away under her.
A gasping scream left her throat as she fell straight down.
Chapter Five
The drip, drip of water landed on Clarissa’s forehead like Chinese water torture. A jumble of impressions bombarded her. She only knew she must flee the darkness and the horrible choking sensation that clawed at her throat and stole her air.
Succubus? Incubus? A demon of unfathoma
ble hate?
Jumbled words floated through her mind.
Must get out of the darkness. Must.
How much time passed she couldn’t be sure. A dull pain in her head persisted. Impressions returned with distressing slowness as she realized she lay flat on her back. She reached up for her camera and discovered when she’d tumbled into the abyss she’d lost it somewhere.
Her mouth tasted like it had been stuffed with cotton and she licked her dry lips. She trembled as cold seeped through her parka. As she opened her eyes she couldn’t see much in the gloom.
Light shimmered down from the hole she’d fallen through. Instead of full sun the light was watery. She wondered if Jim had gone for help; if she’d been unconscious for long assistance might be on the way.
“Jim!” She waited, hoping for an answer. Nothing. “Jim, I’m down here!”
Again, nothing.
As full consciousness returned so did pain. She felt battered and bruised. She groaned and touched her temples with her fingers. Her skull might fall off and then she’d be a ghost like Anne Boleyn, wandering this subterranean hell moaning and looking for her head.
Now I know I’m okay. I have my sense of humor.
She groped in the semi-darkness for her fanny pack and rummaged for her cell phone. She turned it on but when she tried dialing 9-1-1, static buzzed in her ear. She tried two more times, but the phone wouldn’t cooperate. The display lit up, so maybe the signal didn’t reach down here. If the walls acted like a cave, she doubted anyone could hear her unless she kept shouting. Glancing into the blackness around her, she realized light disappeared, swallowed up not far in either direction.
“Drat.”
After stuffing the phone back in the pack, Clarissa shifted her fanny pack from around her stomach to around her back.
“Stay calm and everything will be all right.” She tried once more. “Jim, can you hear me? Jim!”
Nothing.
Sighing, she decided she couldn’t sit there and wait for rescue. There had to be something she could do. She stood and leaned against the rocky wall. Refusing to panic would keep her alive and kickin’ one way or the other.
“See if I ever go into another crypt without a flashlight.”
Seconds later she heard a strange noise, something like an exhale, but not quite. She waited, her hearing zeroing in on the sound lingering in the air. An echo? She took a shuddering breath. Keep calm. The way to make it out of here is to stay tough. Anything less is foolish. Drawing a cleansing breath, she tried to think about what she could do to get the hell out of there. Damp, dark, and smelling like earth, the chamber was cold. Glad for her long parka, gloves and stocking hat, she decided standing would be preferable to lying or sitting on the hard packed earth.
Rather than leaning against the wall, she stood within the circle of pale light streaming down from the hole above. Clarissa paused, searching her intuition for answers. While no one in their right mind would like this place, she felt vulnerable here. As if something or someone watched her from a spot too dark for human eyes to detect. This place seemed odd, out of sync.
Come on. It’s just a hole.
A dungeon.
No. A strange crawling sensation heralded rushing emotions that didn’t belong to her. A few whispers touched her ears.
Then she felt it. People had been down here before, searching for someone else, though she couldn’t say how long ago. With reluctance she allowed her senses to accept and catalog, to discover what resided here in the blackness. For no one would ever stay here, if they valued sanity. She didn’t dare close her eyes while experiencing the heavy emotions caressing the edge of her senses. Like a lead weight negative feelings touched her, starting first with panic, despair and disbelief.
It made sense in the grand scheme of things. Anyone who’d been trapped here for long might know all these thoughts. She didn’t have to worry about approaching any of these emotions. Jim wouldn’t leave her down here to die. Seconds later came a wave of repulsion. This time she couldn’t say if the feeling came from her or from another soul that had once trod this dark corridor.
No matter what happened, she wouldn’t allow insecurity to take over. Drawing another breath deep into her lungs, she plotted how to escape this nasty place and pushed away the disturbing feelings.
After she shivered she realized her hands felt cold. She located her gloves in her coat pockets and slipped into them.
She heard a strange popping noise not that far away from her, and she jerked in surprise and alarm. The same sound she’d heard in the graveyard last night when—
Ronan stepped out of the blackness, his eyes ablaze with yellow fire.
Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t say a word, her surprise more than profound. She didn’t have to respond, he moved forward with purpose, his gaze filled with fury. His unhappy expression made her shrink back against the rock. Her fanny pack jabbed into her back.
For an unguarded moment she thought he meant to harm her.
“Are you hurt?” When he spoke his voice sounded rough with worry, strained by emotion, taking her by surprise.
Trust took a backseat to fear, though, and when he took another step toward her she inhaled quickly.
“You.” Her voice warbled and trembling suddenly racked her body.
His brows creased together. Faster than a blink he stood directly in front of her. Shocked by the lightning-quick move, she let out a small cry.
Radiating warmth and tenderness, his eyes held her captive. He clasped her head gently between his palms. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m…no, I’m fine.”
“Never mind the headache?”
“How did you know—?”
“Your brow is furrowed. You’re in pain or frightened.” When she looked up into his eyes and didn’t speak, he continued. “You didn’t panic, Clarissa.” His voice held a soothing quality laced into liquid seduction. “Sure, and with all that’s down here, that’s surprising.”
“What’s down here?”
His voice whispered in her head. Darkness.
His lips hadn’t moved, and her fear renewed. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
Although she knew her brain should be operating at full throttle, she couldn’t quite focus. Instead she sank into those fire-filled eyes and felt alarm return. “But how…how did you know I was here?”
His warm breath touched her forehead as he leaned in close. “Instinct.”
God, his touch felt so good, his presence engendering security and wild fear. Her throat felt dry and hoarse. “What are you doing?”
His fingers gentled, warm and reassuring. He slipped his fingers over her cheek, then fingertips to jaw.
Close your eyes.
His lips hadn’t moved again, and she wondered at her grip on reality. She placed her hands over his as his thumbs caressed her skin. “No.”
Close your eyes. His voice echoed in her mind again.
Eyelids growing heavy, she fought to keep them open and couldn’t. As her eyes shut, she struggled against his relentless influence.
He possessed her.
Took control.
Banished her will.
Ronan eased her against his body, gathering her tenderly against him.
He pressed her head against his shoulder as he whispered in that sensuous, stirring voice. “You are safe. I won’t allow you to be harmed. Trust me.”
As his soft plea reached her ears, she relaxed. She’d never felt this safe in a man’s embrace before. How he’d known she was down here didn’t seem to matter. Only staying in his arms had any significance.
Slowly the ache in her head retreated, inch by inch. Seconds later he moved her back a bit so he could look into her eyes.
“Feel better now?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m better.” She looked up at the hole in the crypt above. “How do we get out of here?”
The Irishman did something she didn’t expected. He win
ked. “We fly.”
His grin held megawatts of pure charm. His eyes sparkled and the effect set her heart racing.
You’re insane. You’re trapped in a subterranean hellhole with a dangerous man and you’re getting all goo-goo eyed over him?
Grateful beyond belief that he stood nearby, she closed the small distance between them. She placed one gloved hand on his chest. “Thank you.”
An undeniable glow of orange fire punctuated his gaze. That uncanny glimmer that once frightened but now intrigued. “Thank you for what?”
“For calming me.”
His fingers drifted over her forehead with a strange caress. His attentive gaze touched her lips. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that…”
She felt free, dangerous, and willing to do almost anything to keep this strange exhilaration going in her blood. “What?”
He edged nearer until she brushed against him. Even through her coat and sweater she enjoyed the touch of his body against her breasts. She made a soft, sharp inhalation at the exquisite feeling.
“I know what you want.” His voice filled with unrestrained passion. Darkly seductive, his tone promised endless delight. “Now is not the time to fulfill your needs, but later I will give you everything you want.”
Puzzled, she frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve thought about our kiss. What it did to you.” He brushed his hand over her cheek, cupping her face in warmth. “You want me inside of you more than you want to breathe.”
She shivered against his warm touch as lightning arousal mixed with embarrassment. Mortified that she’d given away her innermost thoughts and yet astonished he could read her, she muttered, “You’re insane.”
She backed away and the movement made her dizzy. She swayed and he took her arm again.
Yanking from his grip she said, “Don’t touch me. I don’t—”
Ronan’s mouth captured hers, a low, almost purring growl coming from his throat. She shivered as the kiss went supernova. Without preliminaries he tugged her closer, his arms unbridled steel around her waist and back, his mouth twisting over hers relentlessly. His tongue took immediate charge, plunging deep and devouring. As his tongue rasped over hers again and again she moaned into his mouth and responded. Entering the dance, she forgot where she was and how she came to be there.
