The Dead Tell (Magical Temptations Collection)

by Jaycee Clark

  “Help me. Please. He’ll take another. There’s always another,” her voice chilled the room.

  Paige’s breath clouded in the air and she couldn’t hold in the shiver.

  “Babe?” Mike growled into her hair, tightening his arm. He shifted and pulled her with him so that they rolled and she was against his chest.

  He tucked his chin and blinked those amazing green eyes open.

  “You okay?” he asked, one large hand rubbing up and down her arm.

  Paige looked over her shoulder to the darkened corner.

  “There are more. So many photos. He likes to take photos.” The words trembled on the air before the woman vanished.

  The woman. She really needed to know her name. What else was she going to call her—the Lady in White? White Lady?

  “What’s her name?” she asked, laying her head back on Mike’s chest.

  “Whose?”

  “The lady from the cemetery.”

  He inhaled deeply enough his chest rose. “Babe, not your worry.”

  She rose up on her elbow. “Yes, it is. She’s talking to me. If I’ve got to worry she’s going to be popping around, I’d like to call her by her name.”

  His eyes met hers and in the low light she saw them narrow, crinkling at the corners. He took another deep breath. “You see… uh… her often? Them often?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  “How often?” He slid his hands beneath the hem of her blues cat t-shirt and pulled it over her head. She helped him.

  “How often?” he repeated.

  Wary now, she eased away from him, or tried to. His arm tightened. “Babe.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “You gotta ask a question like that?”

  “Yes. Others have asked. I’ve been committed for saying I see people, hear people, hell, played with people others never saw. Been in therapy, lots of prescriptions. Meds, fogs. So, yeah, babe, I gotta ask a question like that. Why do you want to know?” She jerked out of his hold and tucked the sheet under her arms as she sat up.

  He studied her a moment more, then shrugged. “I was just curious. It’s not exactly a normal trait people have, communing with the departed, but it’s not unheard of either.”

  He was a cop. “You don’t see things like normal cops.”

  “I’m thinking that’s a real good thing, right about now,” he grinned and tugged the sheet down. She gave up the struggle, and he jerked her back down and rolled so that she was under him.

  “So, how often do you communicate with them?”

  She took a deep breath and wondered how the hell to get out of this conversation.

  “We’ll sit here all evening, all night if we have to.”

  He would. “You’re stubborn.”

  “I ask the questions, you answer.”

  “There’s my cop,” she muttered.

  A grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

  Hell.

  “Your cop. I like that.” He leaned over and kissed her softly at first, then more insistently. His lips caressed hers, then demanded more.

  Her cop.

  She was not going to discuss what their relationship was or wasn’t or what it might be. For now, he was here, she was here, she’d keep it simple.

  She pulled away from his kiss.

  “I don’t communicate.”

  He only arched a brow. “And this is news how?”

  “I meant with the ghosts. I don’t communicate with them.”

  “Really?” He studied her for a moment then laid back down, wrapping his arms around her. “How do you figure?”

  “Well, they don’t always listen to me, you know.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Well, they don’t. I don’t know how to explain it, but they just don’t. Sometimes I don’t actually hear them. It’s more like…” She sighed and wondered how to get him to understand. “More like static on a radio turned low. I know they’re trying, but for some reason I can’t hear them.” Sometimes they screamed at her, yelled, attacked, but she didn’t want to tell him about that.

  For several minutes they both lay quietly, his hand rubbing absently up and down her arm.

  “Medicated?” he asked quietly.

  She stiffened.

  “Babe.”

  “My family, or what I remember of them, they didn’t want to hear about my friends. I used to call them my friends back when I was little. I remember I even named them. They came all the time. But then sometimes they weren’t always good.” She shivered remembering one black entity that would wait until she was asleep and scare the beejesus out of her.

  “Anyway, when I got older, before they died, my mother took me to a shrink here in New Orleans. I don’t remember his name, and it’s not important.” She took a deep breath.

  “After. After when I moved, with the foster family, or the first one anyway, I kept waiting to see them. To see Mom and my little sister and my dad. But I never saw them. They never visited me. I don’t know why, maybe it’s a rule or something.” She shrugged. “My foster family was not open-minded. They got me a shrink that put me on meds so I wouldn’t see the others anymore.” She shivered. “But mostly I didn’t take them and then I became a problem a kid, so they didn’t want to deal with me. I was sent back, at least, until another family tried. Then I got committed. I wouldn’t sleep because their house was haunted and not with a nice ghost. He was mean.” She stopped.

  “How old were you?” Mike asked her after a bit.

  “At that point, ten.”

  He rolled so that he was leaning over her and cupped her jaw. “Ten? They committed you at ten?”

  “Well, in their defense, I was abrasive, didn’t want to be hugged or held, I didn’t want to eat, I rarely slept and when I did I usually woke up screaming the house down. When people asked what was wrong, if someone was hurting me, bothering me, I told them the truth. My parents told me to always tell the truth, so I did. I didn’t learn at the last home. So, long story short, they sent me to get help.”

  “Baby.” He kissed her forehead.

  “It was a long time ago. I realized if I took my meds, the scary man left me alone. And then I told them through the long months of therapy that I didn’t remember. I gave them a reason they could deal with, that I missed my mom and dad, my family. I went along when they said these were creations of my imagination to help me deal with losing my family. Basically, I lied.”

  He grinned and she gave him a small smile. “I learned to hide what I saw, what I heard, to just… I don’t know, ignore. And I did a great job from twelve until eighteen when I moved back here and my roommate ending up being Sammy.”

  “Can’t hide much from her.”

  “Well, either that or my walls started to crumble. I’d always wanted to come back here, ya know? This is home, was the only real home I knew. The different foster family I had, they were nice, but I never fit in. Here… well…”

  “Different fits in just fine here, darlin’,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through her.

  “Yeah, it does. So ever since then, I’ve seen things, not all the time because in those years, I built really thick defenses and studied up at local libraries. I even met several mediums that told me how important it was to shield myself, or my light, as a couple of them referred to it. It’s just sometimes, when I’m distracted, or overstressed, or really tired, they get through.”

  “What are you stressed about?”

  “That’s just it,” she said, shrugging.

  Mike shifted to lay more on top of her, wedging himself between her thighs.

  She arched a brow at him. “Comfortable?”

  “Not yet, but I will be soon,” he said on a grin. “I can help you relieve some stress.”

  She snorted. “You are so full of it.”

  “That’s actually your role. I see I waited too long since the last time if you’ve forgotten.”

  This time she chuckled as she leaned up and pulled his head down to
hers. She didn’t wait for him to kiss her, instead she kissed him with everything inside her.

  Mike was Mike. What you saw was what you got. So she saw ghosts. He didn’t question if she believed it, if it was real…it simply was.

  He broke the kiss, running his tongue down the edge of her jaw, kissing down her neck. He caressed, weighed her breast before his mouth descended. He circled the center with his tongue, lightly

  “Always a tease.”

  His eyes locked with hers before he flicked the tip with his tongue then pulled it hard into his mouth. She moaned and bowed her back.

  One hand slid down her stomach, his fingers raking over her hipbone, making her squirm.

  She felt his grin against her.

  Damned man.

  Stubborn woman.

  Getting anything out of her was always work. She squirmed and arched into him. But the work was always freaking worth it.

  He loved the sounds she made in the back of her throat, soft as if she tried to hide them from him, until finally he could push her, pull her, drag her, fuck her over some invisible line until she gave everything to him.

  Her skin, like silk beneath him hands, beneath his mouth, heated. He loved the feel of her under him, against him. Running a hand down her stomach and then into her scrap of lace and cotton, he felt the heat and dampness of her.

  “Please,” she whispered. He played until she begged him again and then he pulled the tiny excuse for panties off and down her legs.

  He slid a finger down, around, teased and pulled until she twined her legs with his.

  “Damn it, Mike.”

  He kissed up her neck as he slid a finger, then another into her tight, wetness. “Babe.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “I’m tired of waiting.”

  Normally, he’d torment her more, just because he could and she’d light up like a damned bonfire, but he’d been waiting too long as well.

  Settling himself against her, he met her eyes as he poised just as at the edge of her opening. “Babe, look at me.”

  Her eyes opened, wild and practically green. She licked her lips as she cupped his face. “My cop.”

  “Don’t forget it.” He slid slow and deep into her, closing his eyes on her throaty moan.

  Damn.

  “So right,” she muttered against his mouth as she rose up and kissed him.

  He wouldn’t last long, it had been too long since he’d had her.

  This time he gripped her chin and met her gaze as he thrust into her. “I meant what I said, Paige.”

  Her brows drew together.

  “We’ve tried this your way.” He paused until he knew she heard and understood him. “Now, from here, we do it mine.” He slid out and thrust back in, earning another moan as she arched her neck, her head back into the pillow.

  Her hips rose to meet his. Her legs rising to wrap around his hips, her knees pressing into his sides.

  “More,” she whispered as she devoured his mouth.

  He gave even as she built, even as he felt her tighten, even as she shattered.

  “Mike!”

  “More,” he groaned against her neck. He slid his hand down between their bodies and found her again, working her until she mewled and shook her head.

  “I can’t.”

  “Again.”

  Minutes later, seconds before him, she screamed out her release, her hot, wet sheath milking him hard.

  “Yes,” he muttered as he thrust one last time and filled her.

  She was his. He could feel her breath against his neck, his chest felt the thunder of her heart, he felt the beat of it deep inside her.

  He wasn’t letting her put walls up between them again.

  “I’m thinking, if I have to keep you in bed twenty-four-seven that would be okay,” he whispered.

  “What?” she gasped.

  He rolled to the side, pulling her with him and tucking her up against him. “In here, in bed, us. You’re honest.”

  She stiffened, then tried to rise up, but he tightened his hold on her.

  “I’m always honest.”

  “No one’s always honest. You’ve got walls, babe. Everyone has ‘em in areas of their lives. You just have more and yours are convent high.” He bent his elbow and shoved the pillow behind his head, and looked down at her.

  Her hazel eyes glittered at him.

  “Am I wrong?”

  Her lips tightened. He grinned at her, then closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “Not wasting any more time. I want you. You want me. I don’t give a shit you see ghosts. Hell, you want to hold séances and speak to the dead, I’ll build you a room just for that. Long as you don’t charge anyone for that, we got no problems.”

  “I don’t hold séances. That opens doors. You shouldn’t open doors with the others because you don’t know what could come through.”

  Chills danced over his skin at her words. His grandmother often said the same things and she had held séances.

  “Point, babe. The point is, I don’t care. If you see them, if you get knocked on the head and don’t suddenly see them, fine. That’s you.” He rolled again so she was partially under him. “What I do care about is you hiding this from me. I care that it can hurt you. I see that. Saw that this morning. Yesterday morning. When-the-hell-ever. Don’t like seeing you hurt. Or worried. Or scared.

  “So get this now. I’m not leaving things as they were. You want to say we’re just friends, I’ll give you that, even though we both know it’s a lie. I like sleeping beside you, though God knows I can count on one hand the number of times that’s happened. I like knowing you’re safe, so frankly, I don’t want to do things your way anymore. I want us to try for more. I’m here with you or you’re at my place, we talk about our days, what we plan for the next, something funny that happened, something horrible that happened, though that last’ll probably be me more than you. We’re going to see where this goes with us. We’ve got something and I’m not sitting back and waiting, wondering when you’re going admit that anymore.”

  A brow arched.

  “You got something to add?”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it, took a deep breath and opened it again. “I’ve a lot to add, but it’s not nice.”

  He stared at her.

  “Mike, I’m complicated. Sometimes I just want to be left alone.”

  “I got you’re complicated a long time ago.” He shook his head at her. “I’ll give you space, but baby, last thing you need is alone. You’ve been alone far too much in your life. You need someone you can count on.”

  “You think that’s you?”

  “I know it’s me.”

  A small grin played at one corner of her mouth. “I’ll think about it. But I’m not easy to get along with.”

  “Think I got that, babe. You give stubborn a whole new definition.”

  “And I’ve got walls for reasons.”

  “Got that too.”

  “I don’t like that you just come and tell me we’re doing this.”

  “You came too.”

  She huffed out a breath. “That is not what I meant. I swear sex’s all you think about.”

  “You’re naked in bed with me, just came hard, of course I’m thinking of sex. I can multi-task, which is why we’re talking now.”

  “Mike. I don’t like being told what to do.”

  He stared into her eyes. “Got that as well. Here’s the thing. I’ve given you plenty of time. Not going to let you throw away what’s between us, and it’s damned good. Not gonna let you not let us try for more because you’re scared. I’ve watched and waited.”

  “What if I need more time?”

  “Babe, you don’t need more time, you need someone to live life with. You realize you call me when Sammy annoys you? Or text me? You send me jokes, that I admit are not always funny.”

  “You’re my friend,” she said on a frown.

  “I am, always will be and you’re mine, but we’re also a helluva lot more.” Then
he frowned. “You send those texts and jokes to anyone else?”

  “The boys,” she said. “Why?”

  The boys was what Sammy and Paige called the Riggio brothers. He grunted.

  “Not as many as I send you and I don’t call them just…”

  “Just?”

  “Just because,” she admitted.

  He grinned. “When I don’t see you, I miss you. When shit happens in your life, you let me in. So now we do it this way. Don’t like that, too bad.”

  “You can be a total jerk!” she thumped his shoulder.

  He waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “And?”

  “I don’t know, I’ll think of something.”

  “I’m sure you will. You had your chance to step it up. And I waited. Tired of waiting.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and climbed from the bed, pulling her with him. “Come on, shower.”

  He heard her huff and grinned.

  “You said all I think about is sex, now I’m thinking of a shower and since I already said I’m multi tasking, we’ll just do both, babe.”

  She grinned at him. “You weren’t always this bossy.”

  “You bring out the best in me.”

  This time a laugh danced out. “Or something.”

  “I’ll show you something,” he said, grabbing towels as he turned on the water.

  “That is a hope.”

  Chapter Five

  Two days later

  He paced. What to do? What did he do?

  This time was different. The lighting hadn’t been right on the last take. Not right at all.

  He’d spent so fucking long on the entire setup. It should have been right, should have been great. Should have been perfect.

  Perfection was not what it was.

  A mockery.

  He wanted the dark and the light, the shadows to tell the story. Instead, it was blurred. The image too dark on top of it all.

  Maybe he should go back to digital in the cemeteries. Leave the gothic look to indoor. Or...

  Or maybe he’d just relocate. God knew there were plenty of places to work his art in the area. He wanted New Orleans, though. This place was what was he needed. He knew it. She was here. He knew that too.

  He’d looked for her for years, and then one day, there she was in a bakery here in New Orleans.