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I-N-T-E-R-E-S-T-I-N-G.
I snorted, swiping the book from the coffee table. “It’s a romance novel. They tend to be very steamy and sexy.” I waved the book by my face. “Guy on the cover look familiar?”
He looked nothing like Wolfe. The man on the cover had wheat-blond hair that cascaded to his bare shoulders. He had a trace of stubble on his strong jaw, but his eyes were impossibly bright and blue.
HA-HA.
“Oh, so you can laugh. That’s good to know.” I folded into the couch, hopes and dreams of writing forgotten. “Shall I read it to you? Can a ghost blush? Let’s see.” I cracked the spine and settled in.
The plot was fairly simple—a young woman betrothed to the lord of a neighboring clan. In exchange for marrying her off, the raids between their villages would stop. He was, of course, wildly misunderstood, tender-hearted, a beast in bed, and wholly and completely devoted.
Maybe Wolfe was right. Maybe reading was the key. To figure out what it was I loved in stories, to remember why I started writing in the first place.
I read two chapters out loud, voice carrying in the castle. I felt him beside me and I continued on, trying not to fidget under the weird energy by my side. When I got to the third chapter and the characters were introduced for the first time, I laughed through their descriptions of each other.
Heavy breasts.
Ample curves.
Strong shoulders.
Delicious lips.
A wad of paper hit me in the side of the head and I gaped, watching the ball roll to my feet. He was playful, this ghost.
“Are you scandalized, Wolfe?” I asked, biting back my laughter. “Your poor ghostly ears can’t take it?”
The tiles moved again.
GET OUT.
I did laugh now, head tipped back against the couch. “But we’re only getting to the good parts!”
I read until the first sex scene popped up—it didn’t take too long—and was rewarded with the study door slamming behind me, footsteps quickly retreating down the hall.
I laughed and laughed and laughed, the spark inside me slowly catching.
“You big baby!” I shouted.
Somewhere above me, another door slammed.
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance and I sobered, remembering what lay ahead of me.
If all went well, this time tomorrow, I’d finally hear his voice.
Chapter 9
Wolfe
Excitement and nerves were old, foreign friends to him now.
He couldn’t remember a time he felt anything other than restless irritation and melancholy.
Avery Eden was reintroducing emotions to him, things he thought that someone who had been dead as long as he had been wouldn’t be able to feel anymore. He was sure if he had a heart, a stomach, both would be swooping low at the idea of tonight.
Rain plinked against the windows and Wolfe stood in the sitting room, arms clasped behind his back. He watched the storm roll in, every crack of thunder adding to the buzz along the length of his spine.
He didn’t need Avery to tell him she was nervous. He catalogued it in every inch of her. The way she unpacked and repacked the bag four times, rereading the instructions for the séance she’d researched.
