Page 12 of Possess Me

I shake my head, having lost my train of thought. Apparently cocktails and Champagne aren’t a good combination if I can’t even hold a thought in my head for a moment.

I run my palms over the negligee, enjoying the sensual feel of the material under my hands. And what do thoughts matter, anyway, when soon enough Damien’s kisses will send all thoughts scurrying, leaving nothing but hot, delicious need.

With a happy sigh, I do a quick turn in front of the freestanding mirror in the corner of the room. It’s a period piece as well, its gilded frame curling into intricate flourishes at the edges.

I turn away from my reflection, then look back over my shoulder in what I hope is a seductive pose.

And then I freeze.

It’s gone in an instant, but for a moment—the briefest of moments—it wasn’t me reflected in that mirror.

It was Vivien—blood trailing down her forehead, her eyes wide with terror, and her mouth open in a silent scream.

5

“Nikki?”

I spin toward Damien’s voice, catching a glimpse of him in the doorway before I suddenly find myself in his arms, my face pressed against his chest as I try to control my breathing.

“Baby, what is it? I heard you cry out.”

I shake my head, my eyes squeezed shut, certain I couldn’t have seen what I thought I’d seen.

“Sweetheart, talk to me.” His voice is soft, but I hear the edge of fear, and I draw a breath, then lean back, still safe in the circle of his arms.

“It’s nothing,” I tell him. “Just my imagination. Too much to drink. Too much talk about haunted houses.” I lift my wrist and glance at the snake bracelet, feeling silly and more than a little embarrassed. “Too much Vivien and thoughts of murder.”

I pull back, shrugging as if it’s nothing. Nothing at all.

Because, I tell myself, it is nothing.

“All right,” Damien says in the voice he uses when he’s trying to get a straight answer from one of our kids. “It was just your mind playing tricks. But what exactly did your mind do?”

I shake my head. “Forget it. Truly. I just—active imagination, okay? I—I thought I saw something.”

“Yes, but what?” He tilts my chin up so that I have no choice but to look at him. That, or close my eyes. And I know he won’t stand for the latter. His hair’s a little mussed, the tux jacket is now missing, and a few more buttons on his shirt are open, revealing a smattering of chest hair.

The sight calms me. Normal, I think. Just me and Damien. And everything is normal.

I really hope that’s true.

“Nikki?”

I look up, realizing I still haven’t answered him. “Vivien,” I say, my voice small. I turn my head just enough to glance at the mirror and then back at him. “In the mirror. Her head was bleeding. The way he killed her, hit her. The way they found her on the beach.”

“Oh, baby.” I don’t even feel the shift, but suddenly, I’m completely in his embrace, his head bent as he murmurs soothing words. How I’m tired. How it’s been an emotional day. And how, yes, perhaps the stream of alcohol throughout the day and into the night wasn’t the most sanguine of plans.

I know he’s right. Add in the fact that we enjoyed our suite at the Pavilion last night so much that I’m now operating on very little sleep … and, well, it makes perfect sense that I’d be half in a Vivien Lorainne-induced dream state.

And yet…

His eyes narrow. “I know that look. Tell me.”

“It’s just silliness. I’m fine, really.”

He waits, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Okay, okay,” I say, as if he’d been haranguing me. “I just—I know it sounds silly, but I swear I saw her. And I think—well, I think she wanted to tell me something.”