Read Kiss of the Phantom: Sexy Paranormal (Book 3, Phantom Series) Online
Authors: Julie Leto
Tags: #Romance
Kiss of the Phantom: Sexy Paranormal (Book 3, Phantom Series) (32 page)
She shifted so that her fingers slipped into the masterfully crafted grip, which seemed to enclose her hand. Immediately warmth spread through her flesh, causing her fingers to buzz as if she were gripping...her vibrator? She snickered at the thought, but erotic images quickly filled her brain. The impressions deepened. Darkened. Expanded.
Like the gold on the handle, naked bodies intertwined in her mind. Not anyone she knew—or did she? His hard sex pressed against her skin like the pommel and hilt of this magnificent sword.
Her nipples tightened painfully, and she released the weapon. A gentle throbbing intensified between her legs.
What the hell?
She knew swords were the ultimate phallic symbols, but she’d been around the damned things since her first turn as Athena six years ago. She enjoyed swordplay, but she certainly never got all hot and bothered over it.
Laying the blade gently on the blanket, she tore off the cropped jacket she’d worn over layered tank tops. The room had suddenly become stifling, so she scrambled to the door, lowered the thermostat and doused all but the few dim blue lights her trainers used to simulate fighting in the dark. When she turned and caught sight of the sword, she gasped. The handle sparkled and glowed.
Intrigued, she crept forward. The mat shifted beneath her, moving the sword as she walked. Jewels in the handle, fiery red amid the polished gold, captured the scant light and reflected back a brilliance that was nothing short of ethereal.
Damn, she’d known the sword was beautiful, but she’d never truly seen it, had she? The antiques shop had been dingy and dusty and gray. The case that Ross had enclosed the sword in had diminished its real beauty. Now she could see it. Now she could touch it.
She wanted to fight with it—cut the air with the blade and make the weapon sing as she parried and thrust. This was the weapon Athena would carry during this film, Ross be damned. Her final hurrah as the warrior goddess summoned to an alternate universe to smite the sadistic and pummel the impure demanded a sword of unparalleled beauty and scarlet power. Invigorated, Lauren hurried to the video camera. Once Ross saw how she used the sword, once he witnessed the magnificence of it, he’d never deny her.
Not, at least, in front of the production crew, who would be wholly bowled over by the way the sword captured the light and reflected back pure power. They’d save a bundle on special effects, she was sure. At least, that was the argument she intended to use.
Once she had the video rolling, she dashed back to the sword and lifted it again, this time holding the weapon with a straightened arm to get a full feel for the weight. She’d never held anything so perfectly balanced. Warmth washed over her again, and in response her heartbeat accelerated.
She sliced the sword through the air once, then twice, instantly finding a controlled rhythm marked by the quiet swish of the blade. She spun and chopped downward, skillfully pulling up before the blade touched the ground. She turned and, with a precision that shocked even her, stopped dead before she connected with the hanging workout bag she imagined was an attacking foe.
“Wow,” she said, breathing hard, not from the exertion of lifting or wielding the sword, but from the overpowering surge of electricity shooting through the handle and into her arms. The steel reflected a luminous ruby gleam. It was as if the blade were...alive.
I am alive
.
The voice was deep, masculine, but so quick, so soft, she knew she’d imagined the words.
“Marco?” she called out.
No response.
She bent her arms at the elbows, bringing the sword parallel with her body, the blade shining a fiery red, the same color as the jewels prickling with heat on the handle. Leaning close and then gazing upward, she realized the steel couldn’t reflect the light from this angle.
And besides, it was the wrong color.
The light was coming from...within?
Touch me. Don’t be afraid
.
The voice, louder and more insistent this time, echoed in her brain. She hadn’t heard the command; instead the message had vibrated up her arms. She tried to drop the sword, but the handle seemed to curve tighter around her hands, tangling her fingers, encircling her wrists, holding her captive.
She knocked into the hard canvas workout bag, then, flying on the momentum, threw herself hard against the wall. Nothing dislodged the sword from her hand. Her vision swam. The blue lights above her merged with the luster of the blade, nearly blinding her in a purple haze. She turned the sword again, more slowly this time, trying to find a way out of the twist of metal, when she saw them.
Eyes.
As silver as the blade.
Powerful. Hypnotic.
Do not forsake me, Lauren Cole. Only you can set me free
.
Desperate and afraid, Lauren ran toward the light switches. Was this some sort of trick? Special effects? Was Ross paying her back for stealing the sword, or was her conscience twisting her triumph? But Ross couldn’t know she was here. And even if Marco had alerted him, he wouldn’t have had time to do anything more than burst in and demand her weapon back.
Forget him. You want me
.
“Who are you?” she asked desperately.
Embrace me and find out
.
Lauren struggled all the way to the door. She tried to reach for the lock, but her hands remained imprisoned by the handle’s coil. Stunned, she slid to the ground and lifted the blade.
Images flashed again. The naked bodies. The hard sex. The muscled man with hair the color of night and eyes as silver as storm clouds. She knew him. She’d wanted him.
Did she want him now?
“Tell me who you are,” she demanded.
Touch me and know
.
She swallowed thickly. Her heart slammed hard against her ribs. She squeezed her eyes shut, then forced them open, trying to see clearly, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. The ghostly red light had not diminished. If anything, as her fear increased, the glow intensified.
And so did her desire.
She dropped the blade. The flat side of the metal touched her calf and stretched over her thigh. Intense sensations nailed her to the floor. Not pain. Not blood. She hadn’t been cut. She’d been...captured?
“I...can’t...breathe.”
*********
New York Times
bestselling author Julie Leto actually hates hearing ghost stories...mainly because she’s a self-avowed fraidy cat. On ghost tours, she is known to wear the rosary bracelet that she was given as a child (which was blessed by the Pope, according to her grandmother) and to announce loudly that any ghosts in the vicinity should show themselves only to the other people on the tour and not her, because she’s just there to hear about the history.
She does, however, love writing ghost stories, especially when they are super-sexy, mysterious and fun. The Phantom series was conceived of very early in her career, but she sold the revised idea, along with two sequels, fourteen years after Damon Forsyth, the hero of
Phantom Pleasures
, first stormed out of her brain. Now that she has the rights back to the series, she hopes to write the second trilogy very soon and answer the final questions about the Gypsy curse that plagues the Forsyth family.
Julie lives on the west coast of Florida with her daughter, a spoiled dachshund, a haughty lynx-point Siamese and a wide range of relatives all within driving distance. Readers can find her at
www.julieleto.com
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