7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

M isty

I guess my angry phone call to the power company worked. The lights flicked on when we returned to the inn.

I take the world's quickest shower while bombarded with mental clips of every scary movie I've ever seen. You're totally vulnerable in a shower. If there are ghosts, who knows what other monsters might be lurking in this house I just agreed to pay a terrifying amount of money for?

Come to think of it, the mortgage is scarier than the possibility of ghosts.

Back in the bedroom, as I towel my hair dry, I flip the switch to the fireplace and breathe a sigh of relief as it flares to life, bathing the room in a warm glow. There's something about the fire that reassures me no ghosts will visit me tonight.

Which allows my thoughts to wander in a much more pleasant direction–Zylus. How many times today did my hands itch to slide through his long, black hair or reach under his shirt to palm the abdominal ripples not-quite-so-hidden by the fabric?

Even when we were arguing the merits of antique kitchen appliances versus the latest models, it was all I could do to keep my head in the game. I was much more captivated by the way his pearly fangs flashed in the bright cafe lighting.

After I slip into my nightgown, I slide into the soft sheets and get comfy, still preoccupied with pictures of Zylus, only to remember the fireplace poker I left leaning against the wall in the bathroom.

I don't want to get up to retrieve it, though. It's so snuggly under the covers. Besides, ghosts are formless wisps of smoke. What exactly do I think a piece of metal can do against something supernatural?

I must have fallen asleep, but I'm awakened with a start. Shit! The ghost is back. With a vengeance.

Its moan is deep and louder than last night. The spirit is bolder too, lifting the foot of the bed a few inches, then dropping it with a heavy thump. The mist surrounding it is thicker than it was last night, practically obscuring the dim glow of the electric fire.

I'm instantly fully awake, heart pounding, mouth gasping for breath as I look around for something to defend myself with.

Shit! Why did I leave the poker in the bathroom? Although I've already determined it will be useless against the specter, I sure wish it was in my grip right now.

"Get out!" Just like in my recurring night terrors, my attempt at a shout is little more than a raspy whisper. Despite the lack of effectiveness, I repeat, "Get out!" as I mentally count how many steps it will take to reach the door after I jump off the bed.

" You get out!" The ghost rasps. "Get out. Get out. Get out. LEAVE!"

Oh, my God. This thing wants me gone! I'll oblige.

After throwing back the covers, I make a run for the door, which is thankfully in the opposite direction of the writhing fog of vapor. I tear out of the room and pound down the hall, wishing Zylus hadn't chosen the room farthest from me .

"Zylus!" Thankfully, my voice is fully functional, now capable of booming at the top of my lungs. "Zylus!"

Within seconds, the door at the end of the hall flies open, Zylus's eyes wild as they connect with mine.

I fly into his arms, unable to say anything other than "ghost."

Always a down-to-earth person, I've never been given to flights of fancy. For a moment, in Zylus's powerful arms, I wonder if I've lost my mind, made everything up. Then I regain my senses and know that whatever accosted me in my bedroom was as real as the male whose naked flesh is beneath my fingers.

Naked flesh!

No longer quite as terrified as I was a moment ago, my brain is capable of latching onto the reality of what I saw when Zylus powered out of his bedroom.

Naked. Green. Alien. Long, black hair and perfect face even when his eyes were wide in surprise. And full-frontal nudity. If I hadn't been afraid for my life, I would have made certain to get a better look at his cock.

"Ghost? You saw a ghost?"

What is his tone? Accusing? Fearful? Full of disbelief? Is he wondering what he's gotten into, committing to this project with a female who is obviously insane?

"It was… something." I can't back down or play the poor, pitiful woman. I know what I saw. Well, I know what I didn't see. And I know what I heard. "It told me to get out."