Spiritus, a Paranormal Romance (Spiritus Series, Book #1) (13 page)

“What’s it like to be dead?” I asked, feeling so guilty.

“It is nothing.”

I watched his face, the way that the illusions of him was made up of life, my heart ached at the beautiful man he must have been.

“Am I that Rebecca?”

“You will always be my Becca.”

“Were we happy?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“For a while,” he whispered with a smile. “I made many mistakes.”

Of course he would regret marrying Rebecca. How could he not?

“Did you love me?”

He moved even closer, only inches away now, and becoming even more solid. His eyes were practically glowing as they looked into mine with such intensity I squirmed from foot to foot. His voice came from nothing and caressed my ears, “I have loved you in life and beyond.”

My heart ached with those words. He moved around me, slowly and deliberately, as if he were really walking.

“May I ask a favor of you?” He asked as he stepped behind me.

How could I refuse him anything? I agreed immediately. “Of course.”

“Close your eyes.”

I did as he commanded. I felt the room growing colder as if he were inhaling a great intake of air. I held my breath as I felt him gathering and growing stronger behind me. I told myself again that I wasn’t afraid of him.

Chapter 7

Alastor was amazing in solid form. I just couldn’t get accustomed to the sight of him even though I had been staring at him for hours.

He was breathtaking to look at, his skin so detailed I could almost make out a faint stubble on his cheek and all about him clung the faint scent of the outdoors, tinged with a slight aroma of honeysuckle. He was lying beside me, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal lean, but muscular arms. Now and then I would catch a glimpse of his bare chest through the open collar of his shirt.

It was strange, but just the sight of that small bit of naked flesh made me blush. I tried not to look, but every time I glanced over my blood would burn at the teasing glimpse of phantom skin.

His lips would twitch into a smile every so often, the action making him even more handsome. I wondered what it was exactly that would make a ghost smile. When I asked, he only smiled wider and confessed that he never thought this day would come.

I was getting so sleepy. Head splitting yawns kept overtaking me, but I stayed sitting up in bed with him stretched out beside me just like a real person.

It was one thing to have him appear in my room or speak to me in his ghostly voice, but that was nothing compared to the delicious thrill of having him so close.

He still seemed too good to be true, too perfect and beautiful to really be there. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

Hesitantly, so afraid he would fade again into the shadows, I reached my hand out to touch his.

“Don’t!” He commanded and pulled away. The doors to my bathroom shut with enough force to rattle them on their hinges.

I drew back at his reprimand. His voice was so harsh. I felt it vibrate through me. I glanced back at his face. He was watching me with extreme intensity. I fought the urge to run away from him. After all, where could I hide that he couldn’t find me?

Pulling up my legs and wrapping my arms around them, I tried not to focus on the sting of his rebuff.

“Why not?” I demanded.

Alastor held my gaze, but his eyes became dark and sad. “Because what you see is not real. It takes so much strength to be this way for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m here with you, but this image of me is just that—Only an image, an illusion. I don’t know what would happen if you tried to touch me.”

I turned over what he said in my mind. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips.

“What is it?” He asked in a whisper as if being careful not to frighten me again.

“I can’t even touch you,” I answered, more than a little surprised by the note of emotion cracking in my voice.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered in a low and soothing tone.

“I know it’s stupid,” I apologized. “It’s just frustrating that we can’t even touch.”

A smile turned up the corners of his flawless lips. “Is that what you want?”

I looked down at his perfect face with his teasing blue eyes. Suddenly, I wanted very much just to be able to touch his hand.

“Yes,” I confessed. “I would like that.”

His smile grew wider, “Then I shall try to do as you wish.”

Even though I was watching him, and he never moved an inch, I suddenly felt invisible fingers traveling down my neck and arms. I jumped and looked around, but there was nothing visibly touching me. I felt a scream rising in my throat as the sensation died away.

Before I could recover, I felt the world shift and suddenly I was back in time and standing at the window. I was looking down and watching for Alastor to come home. I could feel the wetness on my cheeks and remembered thinking back then that I had cried so many tears waiting for him to come home.

The image spun around and was replaced by Alastor and I arguing on the staircase. He was moving toward the door and I was following him with my skirts gathered into my hands. I felt myself calling after him, but there was no sound. He turned back to me once he reached the door and ordered me to stop my hysterics. Alastor walked out the door and it slammed behind him. A coldness swept over me and my tears ceased at that very moment.

I was spinning again, this time further back, to me in Alastor’s arms. I closed my eyes as he reached out his hand and touched my face. I knew that touch, it brought me back to my room where Alastor the spirit was with me.

“I’m sorry.” Alastor said without changing expression. “I was trying to give you what you wanted.”

I took a few deep breaths and tried to slow my pounding heart, “It just startled me. I remembered so much about us all at once. It was a little overwhelming.”

He looked at me intently, “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Do you trust me?”

Did I trust him?

“Yes.” I answered without hesitation.

The invisible fingers were back again, caressing my hair, my face . There was no warmth to the touches, just a constant tingling sensation over my skin. I was watching him, but he never moved, even as unseen hands lifted strands of my hair.

“I have waited for you for so long.” He said with serious eyes.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, but a part of me loved hearing it. I allowed him to keep his ghostly fingers in my hair, not moving, even as he rose up on one elbow.

“Are you still not afraid?” He asked, suddenly seeming just as unsure as I was.

“I am afraid,” I confessed. “But not of you.”

He leaned closer to me. If he were an actual living person, I would have been able to feel his breath on my shoulder. The tingling sensations were still moving over my body, but I was unable to move. His luminous blue eyes held me there.

“Then what are you afraid of?” He whispered.

I could smell the scent of summer about him, noticing how it shifted from sun and honeysuckle to the clean smell of rain. I opened my eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I’m afraid because I want to be near you and I don’t understand why.” I blurted out without thinking. “I know what you are and why you are here, and that I should be afraid of you, but I’m not.”

“And why should you be afraid my love?” He asked while holding me with his powerful gaze. “I am, after all, just a spirit. What could I possibly do to you?”

My heart skipped a beat. Was he honestly asking me to give him ideas on how to destroy me? If he was here for revenge, I wasn’t going to help him out.

“Are you here for revenge? To make me pay for what I did to you?”

“That was many years ago.”

“Why did I shoot you?” I demanded.

The air in the room changed, from nowhere there came a breeze to rock the chandelier and flutter the papers on my desk.

“Must we discuss that?” He hissed.

The room was erupting in chaos. It seemed everything I owned was spinning about the room suspended in midair. The invisible fingers were gone. I pulled away, backing against my headboard, and preparing for the worst.

Minutes passed before the chandelier stopped its back and forth motion and the frantic flapping of books and papers stopped. The glow of his beautiful eyes faded and they became shaded in silence.

His outburst had weakened him. He was no longer as solid. The illusion had been broken.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered and his smooth voice was like a caress. “I would die a thousand deaths before I would hurt you.”

I wanted to believe him even as I watched the last sheet of paper flutter to the ground.

“You have no reason to be afraid,” he whispered as his image flickered and swayed. It seemed to me he was trying to convince the both of us.

“Forgive me, my Becca,” he said stiffly. “I will be the perfect gentleman the rest of the evening.”

He moved closer, waiting for me to say something, but still I couldn’t make my lips form words. He kept his eyes riveted on mine which was almost as unsettling as his outburst.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” He vowed.

His eyes were apologetic, but still I was cautious. I nodded apprehensively and tried to smile.

Alastor’s responding smile was teasing, “You must understand that this is difficult for me as well.”

“How so?”

“Well in your mind, we are meeting for the first time,” he explained. “But to me, you are and always will be my wife. For me, it’s as if I must court you all over again.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” I confessed. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he said with a tragic smile. “I have a second chance to win your heart.”

I blushed. His words sounded as if they came straight from a romance novel.

Alastor seemed pleased with my reaction, “So, where were we?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I offered, not wanting to upset him again.

“No, no,” he said gently. “You wanted to know why you killed me.”

I fought the immediate feelings of guilt and told myself this was something that I very much needed to know.

He seemed to pause in thought for a moment and then he smiled, ashamed. “Shall we just say that some mistakes are built to last?”

His answer made no sense to me. It told me nothing about the events that brought us to this point.

“So, you don’t hate me?” I asked.

Alastor smiled again, “Love and hate. Those two emotions so often feed off one another. That would be the tale of my life.”

He wasn’t really answering my question, but I didn’t press him I tried to keep my eyes trained on the shifting vision of him.

“I’ve wanted to hate you.” Alastor confessed. “When you touched where my blood spilled, I felt you, I felt the passage of the years, and I tried so hard to hate you. I thought if I hated you, it would be easier.”

He looked at me then, his eyes so bitter, and I felt his need to hate me. I was afraid to ask what it was that was made easier if he could hate me.

“I did try to hate you,” he offered.

I shifted on the bed, unsure where this conversation was going. “I believe you.”

“And then I heard your voice,” he said with an amused smile. “I heard your voice and I was right back to where I began, miserably in love with you.”

It was so beyond anything I had ever imagined to have a ghost in my darkened bedroom declaring himself to me.