Phantom Embrace (4 page)

She swallowed. “I didn't want to be like that other spirit. I didn't want to make a nuisance of myself.”

He huffed a laugh. “If you knew how much I've missed your company since we spoke, you'd understand just how impossible that is.”

Hope and disbelief battled within her. Could she be so lucky?

He straightened away from the window frame and took a step toward her.

Cat reached out instinctively to push him away from the sunlight. “Careful,” she admonished. Warmth suffused her hands when they touched his chest and started to pass through him. She jerked them back. “Oh. I'm sorry. I—”

He raised a hand to stop her apology, then held it out to her, palm-up, as he had that night in his room.

Cat stared down at the large, masculine hand as sunlight bathed it.

“I'm old enough that I can sustain some exposure without suffering.”

“Oh.” Cat glanced up at him, then tentatively placed her own hand atop his, careful to ensure hers wouldn't pass through it.

That wonderful warmth filled her where they pretended to touch.

Smiling, Yuri leaned down and mimicked kissing the back of her hand.

More warmth suffused her where his lips contacted her intangible skin.

He straightened. “Dmitry downloaded a new audiobook for me today at my request.”

Cat smiled. One of the many things she had learned about Yuri in the time she had been haunting him was that he was not at all comfortable with the electronic devices and advanced technology of this time.

“He teased me mercilessly about it,” he continued with a wry smile.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I asked him to download something called a paranormal romance.”

Paranormal romance.
The term sounded familiar. “I think Tracy likes those.”

He nodded. “According to Marcus, female readers love them. Some men do, too. Though some—like Dmitry—mock them for it.”

“Why?”

“Romance is considered a woman's genre by many. Love and happily ever after and that sort of thing. I think most men equate romance novels with chick flicks.”

“Men don't like love and happily ever after?”

He shrugged. “I don't have a problem with it, but don't know that I'll enjoy listening to it for twelve or thirteen hours. Marcus claims paranormal romances also have a lot of action and violence in them, though, so I thought it might be something we could both enjoy.”

“That was thoughtful of you,” she said, pleased by the overture.

“My reading, or—in this case—listening preferences can be a bit dull and dry,” he said apologetically.

“No, not at all,” Cat protested.

He arched a brow.

She bit her lip. “It's just . . . some crime stories . . .” She tried to think of a diplomatic phrase that wouldn't offend.

“Bore the petticoats off you?” he supplied, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

She laughed. “Yes. I've watched too many of those police shows on television with the Seconds. The stories all seem to blend together now.”

“Well, let's see if this paranormal romance will spark your interest, shall we?”

“Shouldn't you be sleeping?” she asked, hoping he would say no. It had been hard to stay away from him this past week. She had missed his company.

“Yes, but let us at least listen to the first chapter or two and get a taste of it. I'll turn in after that.”

She grinned. “I'd like that.”

He circled the desk and headed for the door.

Cat followed, as excited as a girl being courted for the first time. As he reached for the door handle, she passed through the wall beside the door. In the hallway, she turned and found him holding the door open for her.

Both laughed.

“Forgive me,” she apologized. “Habit.”

He shook his head. “I claim the same. Opening doors for women is second nature.” He stepped out into the hallway with her. “This will be fun, I think,” he said with a smile. “Never a dull moment.”

Cat agreed wholeheartedly and accompanied him down to his room.

Chapter Three

The days and nights that followed were . . .
surreal
, Yuri supposed would be the best word. He hunted by night and spent his days with Catherine.

Or Cat.
His
Cat, as he soon began to think of her.

She was such a delight. Although Yuri had never considered himself a chatty sort, he and Cat never ran out of things to talk about. He loved that she called herself a bluestocking. Such an old-world term. Loved that she was well versed in the classics and philosophy and many subjects that women of her time had not been encouraged to explore. Yuri caught her up on some of the wonderful literature that had been written since her death, even playing audiobooks for her while he slept.

It was nice to be with a woman who, though three hundred years younger than he, was nevertheless nearer his age. A woman around whom he could be himself. A woman who wouldn't wrinkle her nose and complain about him being old-fashioned.

She made him laugh. Often. Made him happy in a way he hadn't thought he could be again. A perpetual smile seemed to touch his lips now. Even Dmitry had remarked upon it.

For the first time in a very
long
time, Yuri didn't feel as though he only existed to hunt. His life, for centuries, could've been summed up as succinctly as the instructions on a shampoo bottle: Instead of
wash, rinse, repeat
, it had been
hunt, sleep, repeat
.

But now he actually found himself wanting to put off falling asleep and looked forward to waking. Hunting and slaying vampires was no longer the center of his world. Cat was.

At last, he felt like he was living, not just going through the motions. And it felt good.

He
felt good. He felt young again.

And Yuri suspected—
hoped
—Cat felt the same way.

If the centuries had seemed to pass slowly for Yuri, what the hell had it been like for Cat? At least Yuri had had his Seconds, Stanislav, and fellow immortals to take the edge off his loneliness. Hobbies to occupy his hands. Books to occupy his mind. Cat had had nothing. No books . . . and she
so
loved to read. No one to talk to. No one to even acknowledge her presence.

It broke his heart to think of it. So he made her laugh whenever he could and delighted in every smile he coaxed forth.

Though she was as old-fashioned as he, she seemed at ease in his presence. Seemed to enjoy his company and to care for him as much as he cared for her. Seemed to long for his touch as much as he longed for hers.

Yuri found his gaze drawn to her lips more and more often. How he wished he could taste them. And he had seen her gaze fall to
his
lips, and imagined her thinking the same.

The damned paranormal romance audiobooks they listened to didn't help. Cat's face flushed crimson each time a love scene rolled around. Yuri had had no idea those scenes would be so explicit, describing in vivid detail all of the things he wanted to do to Cat's lithe body, making him shift in his chair and sparking an intriguing flare of desire coupled with curiosity in Cat's shy gaze. As though she had never experienced such passion herself and wondered what it would be like to find it with him.

“Are you in love with Lisette?” she blurted one morning while such a scene titillated them both.

His eyebrows flew up. “What?”

“Lisette. The pretty French immortal,” Cat said, her eyes on the skirt she pleated and unpleated with nervous fingers. “Are you in love with her?”

“No.”

“You spend time with her,” she muttered, still avoiding his gaze.

Yuri nodded. “We both like sports.” Although
like
didn't quite cover it with Lisette.

Lisette was a sports
fanatic
. Any sport would do. But her brothers weren't interested in baseball. So when she had discovered that Yuri liked baseball shortly after his transfer, she had declared him her new sports buddy.

“That's all?” Cat asked. “The two of you don't . . . haven't ever . . .” Her gaze slid to the speakers that currently broadcast a description of the hero taking the heroine passionately in the shower.

“Made love?” he suggested for her.

“Yes.”

Ah. So that's where her mind had gone. “No. We don't have that kind of relationship,” he assured her. “We're just friends.”

He wanted to be so much more with Cat. And judging by the relief that filled her blushing features, she wanted the same.

They touched each other . . . in that peculiar way that made his skin tingle. First casually. Her hand on his arm. His hand curling around hers and passing right through if he didn't take care. Then with more affection. Her fingers stroking his face, his shoulder. His own hand brushing her arm or lower back or lovely hair, wishing he could feel the strands slide across his fingers.

It might be a mere shadow of a touch, but Cat seemed to crave it, to enjoy having even that hint of contact she had been denied for so long.

Even now, as Yuri sat at the long table in David's dining room alongside his fellow immortals and all of their Seconds, he felt Cat come up behind him. Felt his back tingle and imagined her leaning against him. The tingle spread to his right shoulder and chest. Glancing down, he saw she had wrapped an arm around him (at least as much as she could in her spirit form) and smiled inside, though he kept his face impassive.

The voices of his comrades flowed over him as he basked in her presence. It would seem someone in the area was raising a new vampire army, one that was highly trained like the skilled vampire Yuri had slain the night he and Cat had spoken for the first time.

Very unusual for vampires. Even Bastien's army had not known martial arts or been as adept with weapons as some of these new vampires were.

Yuri glanced around the table as speculation flowed and found Marcus staring at him.

Marcus's gaze rose and settled upon Cat, standing behind Yuri, then returned to Yuri.

Cat leaned down to whisper in Yuri's ear, “I'm sorry. I forgot for a moment that he can see me. I'll go.”

Yuri wanted to protest. He liked having her near. But he couldn't.

“Be safe on your hunt tonight,” she implored. Then her presence vanished.

Disappointment filled him.

When the meeting ended, Yuri headed to the armory, eager to get the night's hunt out of the way so he could return to Cat.

Dmitry handed Yuri his cleaned and sharpened katanas. A number of daggers followed, and throwing stars Yuri tucked in the long coat that would hide his small arsenal from humans.

Ready to leave, he strode toward the doorway only to find it blocked by Marcus.

“Got a minute?” the British immortal asked.

“Yes.”

Marcus nodded in the direction of the basement stairwell.

Yuri followed him downstairs to the quiet room Marcus shared with his wife, Ami.

Marcus entered, held the door open, then closed it behind Yuri.

Yuri glanced around. This room was larger than his own and included a crib for the baby they all hoped would soon safely be born, as well as a rocking chair. He looked at Marcus and found him scrutinizing him a little too carefully. “What?”

“Are you insane?”

“No. Why? What's the word on the street?”

Marcus failed to laugh at the jest. “Why didn't you tell me you can see ghosts?”

Yuri shrugged. “I saw no purpose in it.”

“Why didn't you tell me you can see
that
ghost?
Her
ghost?”

“I didn't see any reason to. You seemed uncomfortable around her—”

“I'm uncomfortable around
all
of them. As should you be.”

Yuri shook his head. “Normally, I am, but—”

“You're talking to her.”

“Yes.”

Marcus shook his head. “There is
always
a catch, Yuri. I know I'm three hundred years older than you, but you've lived long enough to have learned that lesson many times over, I'm sure. There is
always
a downside to talking to them.”

Yuri couldn't deny it. “I know.”

“Then why did you do it? Why
are
you doing it?”

No point mincing words. “I enjoy her company.”

The reprimand left Marcus's expression. His brow furrowed.

A long moment passed.

“Really?” he asked, his tone perplexed.

“Yes.”

“So ...” Marcus backed away and leaned against the crib, his expression no less concerned. “You ... what ... converse?”

“Converse. Watch television. Listen to audiobooks together. Sometimes I read to her. I'm even teaching her to play chess.”

Marcus's frown deepened. “How long has this been going on?”

“Not long. A few weeks.”

Another minute dragged by, encapsulating them in heavy silence.

“Did she tell you who she is?”

Yuri nodded. “Catherine Seddon.”

“And?”

“And what? You asked me who she is. She's Catherine Seddon.”

Marcus straightened. “Yuri, haven't you ever wondered why she is the
only
spirit Seth and David haven't banished from this house?”

Yuri frowned. He hadn't really thought about it, but now that Marcus had mentioned it, it did strike Yuri as odd. Seth and David maintained homes all over the world, inviting immortals and their Seconds to visit whenever they wished to as David did here, doing their damnedest to foster a family atmosphere amongst them. This was the first time Yuri had ever encountered a spirit in one of the elder immortals' homes.

Why had they allowed Cat to stay?

“Is she the spirit of a deceased Immortal Guardian?”

“No.”

“A fallen Second?”

“No.”

Unease suffused him. “Who is she?” he forced himself to ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“She's Bastien's sister.”

Shock tore through him. “The one Bastien thought Roland murdered?”

“Yes.”

Bastien had raised his vampire army and pitted them against the Immortal Guardians a few years earlier for the sole purpose of avenging his sister's death, unaware that his sister had actually been slain by the husband she hadn't known had turned vampire.

Marcus sighed. “She didn't tell you?”

“No.” Yuri had avoided asking her how she had died. He'd thought it a rather morbid question. And he certainly hadn't wanted to bring up painful memories.

Painful
. He cringed as details of her murder swam through his head. He had only heard little snippets here or there since his arrival, but it had been enough. “She was with child when he killed her,” he whispered.

Marcus nodded. “That's why she's so interested in Ami's pregnancy.” His brow furrowed. “I don't mind telling you . . . it makes me nervous as hell when I see her touch Ami's belly. But I feel so damned sorry for her that I can't bring myself to tell her to keep her distance.”

“Thank you for that,” Yuri murmured, understanding now the sadness that claimed her in such moments. “Why did her husband kill her?”

“We don't know. He managed to convince Bastien he was lucid for several years afterward, so the madness had not yet claimed him. Maybe he simply meant to feed from her and lost control.”

Yuri's heart hurt for her. “Does Ami know?”

“That Catherine touches her belly?”

“Yes.”

Marcus shook his head. “She's having a hard enough time with this pregnancy. I don't want to throw in phantom hands touching her without her knowledge on top of everything else.”

“She doesn't feel anything at Cat's touch?”

“No. If
you
do, your gift must allow you to feel it.”

“What about Bastien? Does
he
know?”

“That his sister's ghost is hanging around? No.”

“Why didn't you tell him?” Yuri sure as hell would want to know if he were in Bastien's shoes.

“At first I didn't tell him because I
hated
his ass. Ewen was a friend of mine.”

And Bastien had killed Ewen when the Scottish immortal had attacked him, believing Bastien a maddened vampire preying upon an innocent woman.

“Seth wouldn't punish the bastard,” Marcus continued, “and—I don't know—not telling him about his sister seemed a sort of punishment to me in my anger.” He sighed. “Then I found out how kind Bastien had been to Ami, helping her recuperate from the torture she had suffered and boosting her confidence when those bastards who hurt her left her with almost none. He tested the antidote on himself so none of us would be hurt if it went really wrong. He helped us hide Ami's pregnancy in the beginning and has proven helpful in taking her mind off her worries.” He shook his head. “I doubt we'll ever be best buddies, but I don't hate the guy anymore.”

“So why haven't you told him about Cat?”

“It just seems cruel to me now. I mean, Bastien has probably assumed all this time that, although she suffered a tragic death, his sister found peace in the afterlife. Isn't that what we're always told?
Yes, she suffered, but she's at peace now.
” Marcus frowned. “Don't you think it would pretty much kill him to find out that instead, she's been stuck here—existing, but not
really
existing—for two damned centuries? That she's likely had no one to talk to in all of that time? That she was there with him the seven or eight years he continued to pal around with her husband, not knowing he was giving his loyalty to her killer? Or that she was there with him throughout his entire crap-hole life with the vampires, witnessing every atrocity they committed? She was born in the eighteenth century. She lived an incredibly sheltered life, then spent what must have felt like an eternity with psychotic killers, seeing all of the sadistic shit they hid from Bastien. And she
still
hasn't found peace.”