Chapter 18

PEN

Neil stared down at Pen in horror.

She felt tears prick her eyes, the fear nearly swallowing her whole as snow fell around them. It was that creeping feeling again, that shiver of a finger tracing her spine that she recognized from their little visit to the cellar, when that thing had looked at her with wide, glowing eyes.

This woman was the lurking thing in the hall, the voice in the study, the thing opening and closing doors. All along, it had been this ghost, this woman, the one Fanny had whispered of as she'd gestured up to the oil painting in the foyer.

But why? Why was she haunting this castle? Had she killed someone? Was she looking for her next victim, and was Pen it?

Pen turned to the tombstone, tracing the name. Archibald Skinner. Why did that sound so familiar? She closed her eyes, desperately picking through her memories.

The journal. It couldn't be a coincidence.

"What did you hear in the study?" she asked, nudging Neil roughly.

"Someone whispered ‘Archie,' who I'm assuming has something to do with this grave, but I'm not sure. Why?"

"The journal."

"The red one?"

Pen nodded. "I was reading through it earlier. There's a passage that mentioned—"

She glanced over her shoulder and up to the window, but there was no one, simply darkness beyond the panes. Pen tapped Neil's hand, and he turned, lips parting.

"She was just there," he said.

Pen shuddered and tightened her hands on him. "I know."

The woman wouldn't be going far. That feeling of being watched, the prickling at the back of her neck; Pen hadn't been imagining it. They'd probably been watched the whole time. In the shower, when the secret door had opened, at night, when she'd tossed and turned.

Laszlo and Daniela weren't experiencing anything, but there was no doubt now. They'd all wanted a haunted castle, a cute little getaway to write their cute little stories and live their cute little lives, but they'd truly found a haunted castle. The irony of a bunch of horror, thriller, and paranormal authors staying in this place was not lost on her.

Pen laughed. It felt good to laugh, to let all the disbelief seep into her voice. She let go of Neil and bent at the waist, slapping her knee as she shook her head.

"Are you okay?" Neil asked, worry written across his features.

"It's haunted!" she screamed between laughs. "It's actually haunted!" She crumpled further, her abs aching, tears leaking from her eyes as she laughed. It hurt, laughing so much, but she simply couldn't stop. Didn't he find it funny too?

"Let's go inside," he said, tugging her away from the graveyard.

She stopped, laughter dying on her lips. Pen reached up and wiped at her eyes before she motioned sharply to the castle, disbelieving. "So… what? We can go where the ghosts are?"

"You want to stay out here in the snow? What's to say ghosts can't come out into the yard? We don't know how these things work, Penelope."

As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. They didn't know anything about ghosts because ghosts weren't meant to be real. But clearly, they'd been wrong.

Pen shivered. Ghosts were real, and they were stuck in a haunted castle in the Scottish Highlands with no internet in the middle of a snowstorm. It was their worst nightmare come to life.

But they'd brought it on themselves. All for a writer's retreat.

"What are our chances of making it out alive?" she asked, turning to Neil.

"So long as the ghost can't hurt us, I think we'll be okay. If the snow stops."

"And if the snow doesn't stop?"

His nostrils flared, jaw clenching as he struggled for an answer. She watched him for a moment, eyes going to the light stubble along his chin, the patch along his jaw where it didn't grow, the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

And that was answer enough.

They were trapped for now, and potentially for the near future. Trapped within a haunted castle, trapped together with their friends.

Trapped.

She had come to the castle for a new start, but it felt like the beginning of the end. She'd come for a story, for a way out of the pit she'd dug for herself, and she'd been handed more than she bargained for.

"All right."

His eyes snapped to her. "All right, what?"

"Let's go inside. At least it's warm there."

Silently, hand in hand, they trudged back to the castle. Knowing and seeing the thing in the window, the person in the window, made Pen want to stay outside, to linger until her limbs were too numb to withstand it any longer. But she didn't want to be alone, and she was cold, and at least she had Neil by her side.

She stopped outside the side door, chest heaving, breathing sporadically as all the what-ifs flitted through her mind. What if they didn't make it out? What if this was it? Neil turned to look at her, lips curving down. He took her hand, squeezing gently. Pen felt her pulse stutter under his touch.

"Hey," he said, stepping forward and cupping her face in his hands. "We're going to be okay."

"How can you know that?"

"It's us. And you're the most stubborn person I know."

Smiling, he reached around her and opened the door, motioning for her to go ahead of him. Her stomach twisted violently as she untied her boots and stepped out of them. Her socks were soaked through from the melted snow, but she was too cold to notice.

"You know what my father would say?" Neil asked as he slipped off his boots and unbuttoned his coat.

"What?"

He brushed curls from his eyes in a sweet, almost boyish way as he smiled down at her. "He'd have warned me to light sage before ever entering this castle. Smudge the shit out of it, he'd say."

If Pen closed her eyes, she could imagine it, that thick, familiar scent. It reminded her achingly of home. Her family had smudged enough when they'd moved homes over the years, ridding the places of any negative energy. So much so that her apartment and her things still had the softest hints of white sage even after all these years.

"Mine would have done the same."

Neil pulled off his jacket and hung it on one of the hooks, turning to her. Pen stood frozen, fingers wrapped tightly around her coat.

"Penelope."

Her head snapped up. God, she loved the sound of her name on his lips. "Yes?"

He gently pried her fingers from her coat. He smiled down at her, that dimple forming on his cheek. Pen met his eyes through her curtain of bangs, and there was something new there, a strange sense of understanding between them. They were more similar than they could have ever imagined.

They stared at each other. One beat, then another. When she didn't pull away, Neil nudged closer as he pushed her jacket down, and Pen thought about fleeing as he tossed it to the side.

Her heart was in her throat, and she hadn't felt like this about anyone in… well, ever. She'd been so scared of facing her past that now, standing in front of it, she wondered what it would feel like to finally face it.

"Penelope," he said again.

"Neil."

"Hmm."

"What?"

He leaned an arm against the wall behind her, and she caught sight of the black ink of his tattoo. "I like it when you say my name," he whispered.

Pen's heart was beating frantically as she slid her hand up his chest and neck to tangle in his hair.

"I love it when you say mine."

Neil leaned in ever closer, blocking everything else from view. He was so close and so warm, and she was impatient to touch him.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she apologized.

"Why?"

She tilted her head away, but he coaxed her back with a finger under her chin as she said, "I worried if I stopped hating you, things would change; I would change. But everywhere I went, you were there, haunting me, reminding me of every time I've ever been wrong, of every time I've ever failed."

Neil tucked a stray hair behind her ear, skimming her jaw and making her shiver as he whispered, "Hating me doesn't have to be your whole identity."

"I'm starting to think I don't hate you." He bent close as if to kiss her, but she pressed a finger to his lips. "But if you ever call me Penny," she warned.

He gently nudged her hand away as he laughed and said, "Never."

Then he was sliding a hand around her waist and bending closer, that rich, sweet smell of him invading her senses. Though she might have said no and pulled away a day earlier, she let Neil Storm in.

But Pen could be courageous and confident too. She stood on her tiptoes, curled her hands into his hair, and captured his mouth with hers.

Yesterday felt like a lifetime ago, and after all these hours trapped together, playing a game of cat and mouse, she and Neil were finally kissing.

And it was good . He tasted like snow, and as his tongue dipped in past her parted lips, Pen felt like she was outside once more, the snow falling in flurries around him, melting in his curls. Except he was warm, and his lips were warm, and there was nothing soft about this kiss.

Pen leaned back until she was completely flush against the wall, and he pushed in closer, his presence in this narrow space intoxicating. Her fingers tightened in his hair as his other hand snaked down to her hip.

It was a mirror of her dream, his mouth on hers, his hands digging into her hip and thigh, only this time her back was to stone, and he tasted like coffee, not whiskey. His hands were rougher, his grip stronger than in the dream, and damn if she wasn't already slick between her legs. Her dream had literally become reality, and Pen was growing lost in the taste and feel of him.

She broke the kiss, gasping for breath and arching back as Neil bent to trail his lips down her neck. He pressed kiss after kiss into her skin, sending a fresh wave of heat straight to her center. Her nails scraped through his hair, clawing at his scalp even as his thumb dug into the groove of her hip, tightening impossibly. He slipped down to the soft divot between shoulder and neck, sliding aside her sweater and bra strap. His fingers skated across her skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as his light stubble scraped over her shoulder and down to her collar. She whimpered as his teeth raked over the bone.

"A collar girl?" he whispered.

Pen squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers tightening in his curls. "Apparently."

He smiled against her and lingered for a moment longer, his tongue dipping out to draw lazy circles in the spot. He scraped his teeth deliciously over the bone, and Pen moaned as he clamped down on her collarbone and bit her, her body rocking against his in response.

His tongue painted a swirl of patterns over her shoulder, savoring every inch of exposed skin, and dear god, she didn't know how much more she could handle before she tore off his clothes.

Hot breath fanned over her skin, and she felt like she was on fire everywhere he touched her. Her body sank into his as she pulled him back to her lips, eager for another kiss. Neil moaned as his hand slid down her arm, thumb brushing the underside of her bra before stopping at her thigh and squeezing. Every caress made her come alive, thawing her from the outside in. Water dripped down the side of her cheek where one of Neil's damp curls clung to her skin. The sensation of the cold water against her flushed face made her body rock against his, yearning, craving. As if he could read her mind, Neil's hand edged under the hem of her sweater, his fingers dancing over warm, exposed skin as he parted her legs with a knee.

Pen made a soft sound in the back of her throat as she opened her mouth wider to him, wanting more than he could possibly give her. This was what she'd been avoiding? Pen wished she'd given in to the desire sooner. In the study, the snow, the turret, hell, even in the front entry. She'd been putting off the inevitable for far too long. Neil's other hand traveled down the wall to cup her ass, nails digging into flesh as her teeth scraped against his lips.

"I have been thinking about this all day," he panted.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't."

Neil groaned as her hips rose to grind against him. He felt so good, so unbelievably good. And where her mind was normally filled with noise, the only thoughts flitting about were of him. Of how he knew just where to touch her, how incredibly turned on she was, and how the pressure from the bulge of his cock had her itching to drag him upstairs.

Together, they were perfectly imperfect, and she wouldn't change a fucking thing.

He scooped her up, and she wrapped her legs around him, finally blissfully at the same height. And closer . That hard length of his was against the heat between her thighs, and as she moved against him, she could feel his cock nudging between her legs, searching. How the hell had they gone from hate to this so soon? It should have been impossible, but Pen wanted nothing more than to undress him.

She wanted him inside her.

"I've been wondering something all day," he started, hips grinding against hers.

"What?"

"How long these two would keep it up in a hallway knowing full well there are other people in the castle."

Neil and Pen froze.

"Please tell me I imagined Laszlo's voice just now?" she whispered.

"You didn't," Laszlo said blandly.

Pen opened her eyes and turned her head toward the hall. Laszlo and Daniela crowded the entrance to the mudroom. Did they have no decency? Pen glanced down at Neil and at the way her sweater had slipped even farther down her shoulder to expose the tops of her breasts. At the way her legs were locked around Neil's hips.

"How long have you been there?" she croaked.

Neil straightened and gently set her down, turning his back on the group. Pen followed his gaze down, an exquisitely clear outline of his cock protruding from his jeans.

Laszlo cleared his throat, and Pen turned to the others, fixing her sweater.

Daniela held out a bill to Laszlo, who took it while meeting Pen's scowl.

Sorry, he mouthed.

"No, you're not."

"Did he bet on us again?" Neil asked, leaning toward her.

"It would appear so."

"I bet for you!"

"I bet that you were having sex," Daniela confessed.

"Are you going to say hi, Neil?" Laszlo called, grinning.

Neil shook his head with a look of mortification. "You know very well I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both!"

Laszlo pulled out his phone, and Neil eyed him warily. "What are you doing?"

"Texting Louise. She'll want to hear this. Damn, she was right."

Snickering, Laszlo turned to go, and Pen motioned to Daniela, who wore a wide grin.

When the hall was clear, Pen spun toward Neil, arms crossed over her chest. "They're gone."

"Thank god." Neil adjusted his pants with a grimace. "This thing won't go away."

Her eyes trailed down his body, hovering on the outline of his cock. "I'd offer to help with that, but they kind of killed the mood."

"Tell me about it."

"We also have some important things to do, certain things to see about."

Neil smirked. "Nothing turns me on more than solving mysteries and stopping ghosts."

She grasped his hand in hers. "Good."

They paused, hands clasped together, cheeks blazing as they stared at one another.

"That was good, right?" he ventured.

"No, Neil, it was absolute shit. Yes, okay, it was good."

"How good?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't push it."

"Noted."

She paused. "But just for the record, I was tested recently, and I'm clear."

"And just for the record," he said with a smile, "as am I."

"Good."

"Good," he echoed.

If it was the end of everything, the least they could do was enjoy it.

Together.

Next time, preferably without pants.