CHAPTER FIVE #2
The warmth that radiated from him was unlike anything I had ever felt in my line of work. It was solid, real, a contrast to the cold, translucent touch of the spirits I was used to .
As soon as I touched him, his arm flinched just slightly and I felt a spark of pure heat run through my body. I yanked my hand back as though I’d been burned, my cheeks flushing from the unexpected sensation. My heart pounded in my chest as I glanced up at him, eyes wide.
He watched me with that amused, dangerous grin still pulling at the corners of his mouth, clearly enjoying my shock. “What, pray tell, are you doing?” He asked, his voice low and dark with a trace of something playful beneath it.
The flush in my cheeks deepened and I stammered. “I— I apologize. I just… I’ve never encountered a ghost like you before.”
His smile deepened, dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Perhaps I’m not a ghost at all.”
I blinked, momentarily speechless, trying to absorb the possibility. Not a ghost? My mind raced, trying to piece together this puzzle. If he wasn’t a ghost, then what was he?
”What are you?” I asked breathlessly, the words escaping before I could reel them back.
He shrugged casually, as though the question didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Aren’t you the necromancer ? Isn’t that something for you to figure out?”
The challenge of his words hung between us, and for a long moment, we simply stared at each other, neither of us moving. I could feel his presence wrapping around me, heavy with an energy that was impossible to ignore. He wasn’t a ghost, but he wasn’t fully alive either.
”Yes,” I replied finally. “I am a necromancer, but I tend to deal with actual ghosts…” What could I do with a spirit… or whatever he was… that defied every law I knew? My words trailed off as I shifted away from him, away from that intoxicating scent that was clouding my thoughts.
”You’re breathing,” I pointed out, eyeing him suspiciously as I shuffled back.
He glanced down at his chest and we both watched it rise and fall, rhythmically. “Hmm,” he mused. “I don’t control it. I can also feel my heart beating if that interests you as well. Would you care to listen to it?”
The sarcasm dripped from his tone, but there was a hint of wickedness in his words too.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice at that moment.
He moved, taking a seat in the high-back chair next to my bed.
I watched curiously as he rested his elbow on the armrest, propping his chin up with his hand.
Interesting indeed.
While most spirits had the ability to touch or even hold an object, it took a great deal of energy. I’d certainly never seen any of them sit , not really. Usually if they tried, they would simply hover above the seat. Or fall through.
I tore my gaze away from the hard planes of his body, the muscles straining beneath his finery…
He’s a ghost. He’s a ghost, Mia!
“Perhaps,” I said slowly, licking my suddenly dry lips. “I could help you cross over. ”
He shot me a hard look then let out a sigh as he leaned forward, resting his arms on those muscular thighs. One dark brow lifted. “If I’m not a ghost, Miss Arden, how exactly would you do that?”
I bit my bottom lip. He had a point.
”Well you have to be… something.” I gestured at him, trying to accentuate my lame explanation.
He laughed softly, the sound was deep and smooth, and I rather liked it. “Indeed.”
A thought popped into my head just then, remembering the few tomes I’d stuffed in my satchel. Surely there had to be a clue as to what exactly Lord Ravenspire actually was.
I hoped anyway.
**********
Several hours later, I sat at the desk, surrounded by the comforting mess of books I’d brought with me.
Old, worn tomes filled with the secrets of the dead, their pages heavy with centuries of knowledge.
I could feel the heat of the candle beside me as I scanned through them, my brow furrowed in concentration.
None of them seemed to hold the answer for what Lucien was. The closest entity that resembled his unique features would be a phantom, but even that didn’t seem to fit. Lucien was as real as I was at that moment. Somehow his phantom form allowed him to be… alive.
I turned the pages of a particularly ancient book that had belonged to my grandmother.
The leather creaked softly under my fingertips.
Nothing. I sighed, my gaze drifting toward the man who still occupied the room.
The only true explanation I had was that perhaps his form was part of the curse. Perhaps my magic had awoken him.
Lucien paced the floor in front of me, his heavy boots tapping against the wooden floor in a rhythmic, almost impatient manner.
He was clearly bored, and I could feel the tension in the air growing with each step he took.
His presence was overwhelming, like a storm gathering on the horizon, and yet, I couldn’t seem to stop looking at him.
It was maddening, the way he moved, the way he was so…
alive. His figure, still wrapped in shadows, was so much more substantial than anything I had ever encountered.
”You know,” he said, breaking the heavy silence that had been weighing down the room. His voice was smooth, lazy, but there was a clear edge of irritation in it. “You’re awfully quiet for someone who’s supposed to be a necromancer. I expected more action, more drama… perhaps some chanting or…”
”So sorry to disappoint, your grace,” I muttered, barely looking up from the book in front of me. “I’m trying to think.”
”Lucien,” he said, voice smooth as he stepped closer.
I looked up, meeting his dark gaze. “What?”
”I prefer you call me by my name.”
”That,” I started slowly. “Is entirely improper… even if you are a ghost… or whatever you are.”
He grinned, leaning over the desk so that his face was mere inches from mine.
“I am in your bedchamber in the middle of the night.” His eyes lowered to my lips then continued a slow descent to my chest, pausing where the thin fabric of my nightgown hugged my breast. “And you are wearing nothing but a scrap of fabric, which I might add is a lovely nightgown. I should think calling me by my name would be the least of those improprieties.”
His eyes came back to mine and I shivered, not from the cold. Only now did I even realize the truth in his statement. The breath of fabric felt all too revealing suddenly and I shifted in my chair, awkwardly covering myself as best I could.
”Fine,” I said with a tight smile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had unsettled me. “ Lucien.”
”Hmm,” he mused, straightening. “I rather like the sound of my name from your lips.”
”Don’t get used to it,” I said, my voice far too breathy.
He laughed softly before rounding the desk and leaning against it next to me. His hand moved, fingers gently twisting in a strand of my hair that had come loose.
“Why is it that you believe I am not a ghost, witch? You feel the difference, don’t you?”
I leaned back in my chair, the warmth from his presence far too close, stirring something inside of me. I stared at him as he continued his gentle toy with the lock of my hair.
”The difference?” I repeated quietly, feeling mesmerized by his fingers.
One corner of his perfect mouth lifted. “In what I am.”
I hesitated, drawn to his dark eyes as the firelight seemed to reflect golden hues that danced there. I felt my pulse quicken beneath my skin as his finger brushed my cheek.
”I feel a lot of things,” I managed, my tone weaker than I cared to admit.
“And right now I feel that you’re not helping me concentrate.
” My patience was beginning to wear thin, but not in the way one would expect.
There was something about him, his proximity, his overwhelming warmth that had me feeling…
uneasy in a way that I wasn’t accustomed to.
Lucien tilted his head, watching me with that wicked glint in his eyes. “You want my help? Maybe I’m a figment of your wildest imagination or maybe…” He slid the curl through his hand, then his fingers trailed down my neck with the barest touch. “Maybe I’m something much more interesting.”
I swallowed, leaning forward slightly into his touch despite myself. My body suddenly felt too warm.
Damn him.
”Don’t tease me, sir. I need answers, not riddles.”
He dropped his hand, standing tall and towering over me. “I’m not teasing,” he said, voice still carrying a playful edge. “I’m simply helping.”
My fingers curled tightly around the spine of the book in front of me.
“Perhaps your memory is far more disturbed than I’d initially accessed because you seem to have forgotten the meaning of the word help,” I snapped, then sighed at my own tone coming out a bit too sharp… a bit too bothered. “What if I can’t figure out what you are?”
His grin faded at my abrupt change of subject, his expression suddenly becoming more serious, though the tension between us remained thick, palpable. “Then you’ll have to deal with me just as I am,” he replied with a shrug.
I resisted the urge to lean further away from him, to put more distance between us. I desperately needed to, but I couldn’t allow him to see how he was affecting me.
He’s a ghost, Mia, I reminded myself once more though the thought did little to dissuade my treacherous body from reacting to him… the heat from his body was suffocating and that deliciously warm scent that swirled around him was engraving itself inside of me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath. I had to focus. I stood, moving away from his intensity.
”You’re bound to this place, to the painting. But why? How long have you been in there? How do I break the curse if you can’t even remember how it started?”
He remained silent, but I could feel him watching me.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “All I know is that I’m here and I can’t leave.
Before you called me, I was in a void so you, Mia , you might be the key.
” His lips quirked into that half-smile again, and for a moment I could see the tease in his eyes.
“Or perhaps you’re just here to entertain me. ”
I shot him an incredulous look. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
”Oh I don’t need to flatter myself. You’re not the only one who can sense things. ”
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the heat flaring to my cheeks. “Your senses are lacking, I assure you.”
He moved toward me and I took a step back, not trusting myself anymore than I trusted him. My escape didn’t deter him. He stood so close to me that I had to tilt my head back to look up at him.
”Don’t worry, witch,” he said, voice low, tinged with something that made my stomach flutter. “I’m sure we’ll figure this out, together.”
The way he said “together” sent a jolt straight to my core, but I quickly pushed it away, focusing instead on the task at hand. I smiled up at him, lifting my chin even more.
”I wonder,” I mused, lowering my lashes just barely. “If you were always this insufferable.”
I nearly celebrated when his gaze locked on my eyes and his own grin faltered just for a moment, long enough to realize that I’d had the desired effect I’d been reaching for. Two could play this game and I’d be damned if I was the only one who would lose.
The smile returned just a little too soon for my liking, however, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of the way it exposed his dimples.
Of all the spirits that I could have encountered in this place, why did it have to be a beautiful man?
It was bad enough that he was perfect in every way, but to add dimples was simply criminal.
His eyes dropped to my lips and I instinctively licked them.
A warm sound came from the back of his throat and his gaze lingered there for a moment, his mouth only inches from mine.
I was sure he was going to kiss me and damn my desires, I would have let him, but then his gaze shifted to the locket around my neck.
He reached up, fingers grazing my skin as he lifted it in his fingers to examine it.
His brows drew downward just a little as he toyed with it in his hand and I could have sworn I saw something that resembled recognition move through his golden eyes… only for a moment though.
”Quite beautiful,” he murmured, but his eyes were on mine now and I wasn’t sure if he was speaking about the necklace or myself. I raised my hand, our fingers brushing as I took the locket from him.
”It was a gift from my grandmother,” I said, not sure why I bothered to share that with him other than I could think of nothing else to say.
His eyes seemed to darken then, a far off look coming over them as if he was lost in thought… or perhaps a memory, but he didn’t say anything more, simply stared at me as though he was trying to figure out a puzzle.
I stepped away, turning toward the window, fighting his allure.
My eyes were drawn to the soft light creeping through the thick velvet curtains.
The first rays of morning were already painting the sky with hues of pale gold and lavender.
I hadn’t realized how late… or rather how early it ha d gotten or how much time had passed while I’d been caught up in the whirlwind of conversation with Lucien.
The room felt quieter now, and for a moment, I let myself breathe in the calm. I glanced back at the room, instinctively my gaze trailed toward the space where I’d left Lucien standing only moments ago. My heart skipped a beat.
He was gone.
The air felt different now, as though his presence had never been there at all. I stood frozen for a long moment. Had I imagined him? Was I yet still curled up under the blankets simply dreaming?
I stared at the empty room, feeling the weight of his absence heavy in the air.
With a quiet sigh, I rubbed my temples. I needed to rest, yes. All I needed was a little rest so that I could focus. The exhaustion of magic the night before, combined with the constant pull of energy from Lucien had drained me far more than I’d anticipated.
I moved toward the bed, grateful for the quiet that had replaced the charged tension. I pulled the covers up, sinking into the soft sheets with a deep breath, hoping I could finally close my eyes.
But as I drifted off to sleep, my mind couldn’t quite shake the lingering thoughts of Lucien Wescraven.