Haunted Seductions

by Sahara Kelly

  Her frosty attitude lasted all of five minutes however. Each room they entered seemed to entrance her, each painting, each window, every fireplace and lintel held a fascination for her. “This house sings, Louis.” She whispered the words.

  Aha. Back to “Louis”. He mentally gave himself a high five. “It does?”

  “Oh yes.” She paused in the foyer, resting her hand on the top of the banister. “It is happy you’re here. It wants caring for, tending, loving hands restoring it…” She ran her palm appreciatively over the softly glowing wood.

  Louis rather wished she’d run her hands over him—just like that. He had something every bit as hard as that wood right about now. A few minutes of watching Cory stroke the banister had done more for his libido than half an hour of Honey and her thong bikini.

  “It’s called a dollop of cream.”

  “What?” Cory looked at him in confusion.

  “That molding you’re…fondling. One name for it is a dollop of cream.” He smiled as she ran a finger around the swirl of wood, which really did resemble cream when spooned thickly onto something.

  It was an attempt to distract himself, Louis knew. To calm the rising desire that threatened to pop out of his shorts and embarrass both of them. It didn’t help much that she looked about as lickable as a Popsicle and just as tasty. One snap at the back of her neck and a couple more at her waist and those breasts would burst free into his—

  “There are many voices here.” She sighed as she found the broken piece of the railing. “So many voices.”

  “Would you—” Louis’s voice squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Would you like to see upstairs?”

  She was already on the first step. “It’s changed from what I remember when I visited as a child. Empty. It used to have some of the original furniture in it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you find anything of value? Any pieces that might have come from an earlier time?”

  “Not much furniture, no.” Louis followed her swaying ass, barely covered by her short denim skirt. The halter top left her back bare, and he drooled at the thought of running his tongue down her smooth spine and beneath that waistband.

  “Umm…” He dragged his thoughts out of her clothes and back to the subject. “There’re several chests and boxes. I pulled them free of a leak in the eaves and stored them here.” He nodded to a side room. “Haven’t gotten around to fixing this one up yet, but it’s dry.”

  Cory darted in and gazed around her, excitement shimmering from every pore. “Oooh. Look.” She touched the old trunks with a gentle hand. “This one…” Her eyes drifted shut. “A young girl. She’s missing her family, but she’s happy here.”

  “Ahh.” Louis wisely kept his mouth shut.

  “And here…” Another box, this time more of a battered suitcase. “A servant I think. A man, anyway.”

  “Seriously, Cory. How come you’re psychic?” He was genuinely curious. Whether he believed or not, she clearly did and he wondered about the intensity of her beliefs.

  “Seriously?” She glanced quickly at him then away again. “In my family, there’s one in every generation. Has been for as long as anyone knows.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Tante Carolina was the last one and she told me I was next when I was a teenager. I knew she was right. And when the time comes, I’ll be the one to recognize the next Lavalle woman with the…the gift.”

  “So do you see visions and stuff?” Louis pursued his thoughts, but found his words falling on deaf ears.

  Cory was delightedly prowling the room, finding first one thing then another, touching them all regardless of the dirt. “Oh wow.” She pulled out a small flat box. “Would you look at this?”

  Her eagerness tugged at Louis and they both moved to the window where the sunlight illuminated Cory’s burden. “It’s old, probably 1930s or so.” She gingerly lifted the lid and spread the opened box flat on the floor, lifting out a folded and beautifully decorated piece of thin wood. “It’s an original Ouija board.”

  “Oh cool. We used to have fun with these in college.” Louis watched her put the little carved thing in the center of the numbers and letters. “You ever play strip Ouija?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  It was an offhand remark meant as humorous, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the heat level in the room shot up. Cory’s eyes met his and something arced between them that felt like captured lightning.

  His cock thrummed, his hands itched to touch her and for an instant in time she was naked on top of him. Then he blinked. That was the familiar memory. His dream on the airplane.

  The woman in it had been Cory.

  They both jumped as a bolt of genuine lightning flashed outside and the crack of thunder that followed shook Love Alley.

  Okay. Enough of this psychic shit. This is too much like a cheesy movie to be real.

  *~~*~~*

  Honey ignored Louis and Cory as they went back into Love Alley.

  All she wanted to do was watch as Maurice opened the large steel box on the inside of his truck bed. His muscles flexed and Honey found herself staring wide-eyed at the big man. He had sharply cut muscles from all his hard work and he hummed with pure strength.

  Honey felt a savagely strong twitch of arousal. She licked her lips and swallowed, oddly uneasy because for the first time in a long while, she didn’t know what to say. She settled for the obvious. “So those are your tools, huh?”

  Looking back with a puzzled glance Maurice answered her. “No, I’m unloading fireworks for a circus.”

  Honey rolled her eyes realizing the stupidity of her question. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to make conversation. My name’s Honey, by the way. Honey Treadwell.”

  “What’s your real name?” He asked the question without looking at her.

  “That is my name. Why would you think it wouldn’t be?” She was a little perturbed by his odd words.

  “I don’t know. Honey is a cute name but for some reason I see you as being more of an Alice.” He continued pulling the woodcarving tools from his truck.

  A chill crept through Honey in spite of the heat and humidity. She shivered and found herself unable to move. “What the hell? Who are you? How did you know that?”

  “Know what?”

  “How the fuck do you know my name? Nobody knows that my first name is Alice. I dropped it close to twenty years ago.” A cloud rolled over the sun, casting shadows and an odd light over the man in front of her. A question rolled from her lips in a hushed whisper. “What do you want?”

  Turning to face her, Maurice looked into her eyes. “You know what I want. You felt it when you saw me. I don’t want your money or your house—nothing material. I want to possess you.” He stepped closer. “After we fuck, I will own you.”

  Her knees weakened and a rush of heat filled her, lighting a powerful fire and sending hot juices flowing. He touched something within her—a complete release of her lustful essence. She wanted him. For some unfathomable reason he caused an inner rage of desire she’d never felt before.

  Barely able to speak, Honey fought to remain calm. “You know…we have time…we could go over to my house and…”

  Maurice grinned and put his large hands on her shoulders. “Not now. I have to work. I will come for you, Alice. I will come for you, and you will come when I let you.” He paused. “Wait for me tonight. I want you wet, I want you ready and I want you naked. We will fuck like animals and I won’t be gentle. I’m gonna call you Honey around everyone else. But when I want something, I will call you Alice. Now go home. Alice.”

  Honey gazed at him, confused, befuddled and horny. She ached for this man, ached to have him take her any way he wanted. And the sooner the better.

  She looked at him, his chest, his shoulders, his air of masculinity, and she yearned. But he made a hand gesture like he was shooing away a puppy. To her surprise, she found herself turning to leave. He had her obeying his commands, and they had only just met.<
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  What is it about this man? Why does he have this power over me?

  She paused and looked back at him. “Where do you live?”

  “Why?” Maurice clanged the tailgate shut on his truck.

  “Just curious. I know most folks hereabouts.”

  “Mostly the other side of N’Awlins, but I’m renting a houseboat moored up on Bayou St. Jacques. Doing some carpentry on it in exchange for room and board for a while. You’ll see.”

  “I will?”

  “Yeah. You will. If I decide to let you.” He hefted his tools over his shoulders and headed toward Love Alley. “Remember. Be ready for me tonight.”

  A flash of lightning from across the bayou lit up his face as he turned away from Honey and she shuddered at the lust she saw in his gaze. She’d be ready. She’d be naked, in bed, out of bed, on the floor, up a tree…any way he wanted. He could have her.

  She bit her lip. It wouldn’t really be a case of him having her. It would be more a case of him taking her, since she knew he was a man who would not argue nor demand. He would simply take.

  And she knew she was eager for every single minute of it.

  Honey turned to her pirogue as thunder rumbled distantly over the swamps. A storm was coming. Time to go home.

  And wait.

  Chapter Nine

  The storm turned the skies to lead and broke in its full fury over Love Alley as Louis hurried to put buckets under the worst of the leaks—the one over his bed.

  “It’s only water.” Cory leaned against the doorjamb and watched him in amusement.

  “Yes, but it doesn’t belong on my mattress. It’s wet enough in this place already.” Sweat beaded on Louis’s skin and trickled down over his body, emphasizing his maleness. Cory appreciated the picture he made. He sure was one sweet-looking piece of man.

  And she still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he’d been part of one of the most intensely erotic dreams she’d had in quite some time.

  “Look, I’d better head off home.” She sighed. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to come back with a few odds and ends that might help me figure out what’s going on here. And then perhaps you can tell me what you’ve experienced?”

  Louis frowned. “In this weather?”

  She smiled and repeated herself. “It’s only water.”

  Louis looked out of the window and waved his hand at the torrential sheets that blanked the view. “So was the iceberg that sank the Titanic.”

  “Tourist.” She grinned at him and headed downstairs for her purse and her keys, only to be brought up short at the sight of Maurice tidying his tools.

  “Er, hi.”

  “You thinkin’ of going someplace?” His words were abrupt, but Cory didn’t sense a threat, just a natural reserve.

  “Yeah. I’m headin’ for home. New Orleans.”

  “Don’t bother.” Maurice nodded outside. “Levee’s out just past the bayou bridge. They were workin’ on it when I drove in and told me that if we got this rain today it’d be out for a bit. Tough job, that. Fixin’ levees.”

  Louis came up behind Cory, his warmth dusting her naked back. “Trouble?”

  She turned to him. “Um…Maurice says there’s some local flooding on the roads. Happens a lot ‘round here.”

  “Fact of life when you’re next to a river, I guess.” Louis wrinkled his nose. “You sure?” He glanced at Maurice.

  “Yep.”

  “Well, there you are. You’ll have to stay a bit I guess.”

  Cory could have sworn there was a distinct smirk lingering around his lips. She ignored it and looked at Maurice once more. “So where are you going?”

  “I’m renting a houseboat on Bayou St. Jacques. I can get there if I go now.” He nodded to Louis. “Got the pattern and measurements for that dado rail in the dining room. Figured I’d start with that, since a lot of the decorations are repeated in other rooms. If you don’t see me, don’t worry. I do a lot of the carving off-site. It’s quiet. I can concentrate.” His eyes drifted over Cory. “Pretty women distract me.”

  “Um, thanks.” Surprisingly, Cory blushed at the compliment.

  Louis’s hand came up and rested possessively on her shoulder and her cheeks burned even more. She could feel her nipples hardening at just the brush of his palm. What the hell would happen if anything else of his ever touched her, she couldn’t begin to imagine.

  “Okay, Maurice. You know this stuff better than I do. Drive carefully.” Louis politely opened the door and then closed it after Maurice as he dashed through the downpour to his truck. “Interesting man.”

  Cory pursed her lips. “There’s an aura around him. I wish I could get a handle on it.”

  “Don’t I have an aura?” Louis pouted and led her back into the kitchen, where the lights flickered and immediately went out. “Shit.”

  “Yes. You have an anti-electrical aura apparently.” Cory giggled and perched on a chair while Louis fussed with matches and candles. “How many fuses have you blown out anyway?”

  “Enough to support half of Chicago, I’m thinking.” He growled the answer as he tried to light a candle and glue it to the countertop.

  “Oh for God’s sake, give me that.” Cory took the candle and carefully dripped a few blobs of hot wax onto the lid of an empty jar of salsa. Then she touched the base of the candle to the liquid and let it solidify. “Voila. Instant candlestick.”

  Her gaze fell on the old box she’d brought down from the attics. “Hey. Since I’m stuck here, do you want to start on a little research?”

  Louis blinked then smiled—a rather wickedly attractive smile. “What did you have in mind?”

  She ignored the little dance of pleasure that rippled through her body and pointed to the table. “Over there. I’ll set up the Ouija board.”

  “Oh.” Louis was definitely crestfallen, but he cleared off the remains of lunch, grabbed a couple more beers, restocked the little fridge in the hopes it would keep the drinks cool at least, and came over to sit opposite Cory. He stared at the board.

  “Okay. So what now?”

  “Shhh. I’m concentrating.” And it was frickin’ hard too, with Louis in all his gorgeous manliness an arm’s length away. Cory sighed and focused, opening that little door in her mind to another place, another dimension.

  [He’s goin’ to make you happy, petite. Be happy. Help me be happy.]

  The words were as clear as a bell and, startled, Cory glanced at Louis. He was studying the board interestedly, running his fingers over the carved planchet. Obviously he hadn’t heard the voice.

  She “listened” again but there was nothing, just the odd turbulent hum of that other world. There were definitely things in this house, old things, happy and sad things, closer to the surface than Cory was used to, but her relationship to the Lavalieres line could account for it.

  She sensed no threat, just an unsettled—unfinished—sort-of emotion. And there was an undercurrent of arousing sexuality running strongly through it all. Her panties were damp after just opening her psychic senses to the house.

  Or perhaps it was Louis who was responsible.

  Whatever it was, Cory felt unusually sexy, and not a little horny.

  She pushed it away and focused on the board. “Now,” she said to Louis. “I want you to clear your mind, try not to think about anything in particular, and just rest all of your fingertips on the planchet. Do not push, do not hold it down. Just touch it.”

  “Yes, Meeesssstreeessss.” Louis chuckled as he answered in a Transylvanian accent.

  Cory narrowed her eyes crossly. “Don’t scoff. You may not have much experience in this area, but I have.”

  Louis looked penitent. “Sorry.”

  They both lowered their gazes to the planchet, the little carved triangle that would point out messages from beyond. It was warm to Cory’s touch, although given the temperature outside that wasn’t surprising.

  What was surprising was the fact that the thing was dead in the water.
Not a ripple, nor a twitch nor a tiny little shudder.

  Nothing. Cory waited.

  Nada. Zip.

  Louis cleared his throat.

  Still nothing happened, and Cory clenched her jaw. This was so not going to look good. What was worse, she could sense the house alive around her, host to many different spirits and souls from its past.

  Yet not a one bothered to use this classic method of communication.

  “Hmm.” Louis broke the silence. “Perhaps they can’t spell?”

  “Aaargh.” Cory tore her hands away from the planchet and leaned back in her chair. “This is absurd. It’s never failed before. I don’t understand it.” She tipped her head back, closed her eyes and massaged her scalp. “This house is ready to talk. It wants to talk. So why the fuck isn’t it?”

  “Ummm—”

  “I swear they’re here.” Cory tugged on her hair in frustration. “I can hear them. I can sense them. This is just too—”

  “Urgh. Ullffhhh—”

  “What?” Wondering at the odd noises Louis was making, Cory sat back up and opened her eyes.

  He was staring at the board, eyes wide, mouth open. Both hands were on the table at the edges, and he was rigid.

  The planchet was moving.

  All by itself.

  “Well, that’s better.” Cory settled into her chair and reached for the pencil and paper she’d set next to her in preparation for just this event.

  “Humplf. Ffflaaargh.”

  Louis was still agog at the sight of the moving planchet, and Cory permitted herself a slight snicker. So shall all unbelievers be punished.

  She busily wrote down the letters as the small device flew around the board, faster now, more assuredly spelling out its message. It was the first time Cory had watched one move unattended, free spinning, completely and absolutely under the control of unseen fingers.

  As it paused Cory glanced at Louis, smiling at his confusion. “It’s all right, Louis. It won’t hurt you.”

  He blinked. “What’s it saying?” The words were whispered from lips that had paled slightly. There were beads of sweat on his forehead, and Cory would have bet good money that the liquid would be cold not hot.