Paranormal Erotic Romance Box Set

by Lola Swain

  “Yes, please,” I said.

  James and I left the suite and walked down the corridor.

  “See?” James said and laughed. “Anything you want, you just have to say.”

  “I want to be alive,” I said.

  “And you are,” James said and touched my arm. “But not in the way you mean.”

  “So, none of them,” I said and gestured at the guests who milled about the hotel seemingly unaware they were among ghosts, “can see us?”

  “Nope, none of them,” James said as we walked through the lobby of the Battleroy.

  I spotted the handsome man who was in the pool the day before. He was alone, reading the paper on a couch.

  “So, what if I walk up to that guy,” I said and pointed at the man, “and touch him? Will he feel me?”

  “He may feel something, depending on how aware he is, but he won’t necessarily know what it is.”

  “May I try?”

  “Of course,” James said and swept his hand toward the man. “You may do anything you wish.”

  I walked up to the man and stood in front of him. As he concentrated on his paper, I jumped around and flapped my arms and stuck my tongue out at him.

  “Hey, look at me!” I said.

  The man didn’t even flinch. I walked behind the couch and looked over his shoulder to see what he was reading. He was staring at models in bikinis in a swimsuit advertisement.

  “Pervert,” I said into his ear. “Tell me, are you a pervert, sir?”

  I blew into the handsome man’s ear. I stuck my tongue out a bit and flicked it back and forth over his earlobe. He let a quick breath out and took a deep breath in, but I couldn’t tell if it was me or the bathing beauties causing his reaction.

  “Do you feel that,” I said. “Can you feel me?”

  I touched the man’s shoulders and gave him a massage. I turned and looked at James.

  “I can feel him,” I said. “I can feel him as if I was alive.”

  “Of course you can, Sophia. And may I remind you, again, that I can hear you.”

  “Quick,” I said, “what’s his name?”

  “How should I know?” James said and walked toward me.

  “Can’t you read people’s minds?”

  “I couldn’t before and I can’t now. Could you read people’s minds before you were killed?”

  “Do you think if I was able to read people’s minds before I was killed, I would have allowed myself to be killed?”

  “No,” James looked down at his feet and chuckled, “I suppose not. Anyway, I cannot read minds and neither can you, obviously. Shall we move on?”

  I turned back to the man and dug my fingertips into his muscular shoulders.

  “Maybe I’ll see you later, whatever your name is,” I said into his ear and sucked on his ear lobe. “Have fun with the girls.”

  I ran through the lobby and caught up with James.

  “Hey, if I run toward someone will I go straight through them? Will they feel that?”

  “Why don’t you try it, Sophia? Try and run through that strapping older fellow over there.”

  James pointed to an old man standing beside the copper wishing fountain in the middle of the lobby.

  “Okay. Should I take a running leap or just walk through?”

  “Uh, running leap,” James said and rubbed his chin. “A long, running leap.”

  I ran from James, past the old man, to the far end of the lobby.

  “Hey, I won’t hurt him, will I? He’s kind of old.”

  “Nah, he should be fine, Sophia. On my count?”

  “Yep,” I said and prepared myself for the sprint.

  “Okay…ready, set, go, Sophia, run!”

  I ran as fast as I could toward the man and felt all those urges you have when you’re about to run into something full speed. But I pressed through and kept my eyes open, wanting to experience the feeling of running through someone. What would I feel? Would I rip through his skin, his organs, his bones? Would I hurt him?

  I thought of all of this as I bulldozed toward the man like a train running down someone tied to the tracks. He looked into my eyes as if he sensed me and I ran right into him at full-speed.

  And, like a pigeon flying into a window, I bounced off the man’s chest and landed with a thud on the marble floor.

  I stared up at the brilliant chandelier that mesmerized me when Brandt and I first entered the Battleroy. James walked toward me, his shoes clicking on the marble. He stood over me, obstructing the light and peered into my face.

  “Jesus, are you okay?” James said, stifling a laugh. “How do you feel?”

  “It hurts,” I said. “It hurts just the same as if I did this yesterday before, well, you know.”

  “I can imagine,” James said and laughed. “I wish you could have seen yourself. Fucking hilarious.”

  “You knew what would happen,” I said.

  “Yes,” James said and bit his lower lip.

  “You’re a rat.”

  “Yes. Here, let me help you.”

  James grabbed my arm and lifted me off the floor. He straightened out my dress and fixed my hair.

  “All better?” he said and kissed me on the cheek.

  “I suppose,” I said. “You’re still a rat for playing that trick, though.”

  “I know.”

  I looked over at the front desk and stared at a young couple nuzzling each other while they checked into the hotel.

  “Best forget about that now. That life is not yours any longer,” James said.

  “Yes,” I said and sighed. “Why do we still have to feel and remember? I mean, in every way I’m the same as any other human, but—”

  “You’re not,” James said.

  “I’m not. My heart hurts when I think of what they’ve done to me. This betrayal knocks the wind out of me. They didn’t have to do this.”

  “But they did,” James said. “There is nothing you can do to reverse the course. You are different now.”

  “But not that much different. I have not changed emotionally. Where’s the benefit to this life? Where’s the tradeoff? Isn’t there at least a reward system based on when and how someone was killed?”

  “Don’t I wish,” James said. “A virgin bride on her honeymoon, murdered by her husband’s lover should certainly win some kind of prize.”

  “See, you get it.”

  “Yes, but it isn’t so,” James said and stared at the honeymooners. “Fucking love, huh?”

  “Yeah, fucking love,” I said and walked toward the front door of the hotel.

  “Are you sure you’re okay,” James asked as we walked outside.

  “I guess so,” I said and rubbed my sore backside. “I guess it was a lesson I had to learn. What are the other rules; I mean, other than not running into the humans?”

  “As with any society, there are laws. Ours is no different,” James said and gestured toward a path leading into a thick wooded area. “Want to walk through the forest?”

  “Sure. Not like I have to be anywhere.”

  James and I walked along a gravel path strewn with pine needles. The path wound through some beautiful trees and there were copper plaques placed at the bases of various trees and flowering plants which gave guests of the hotel some fun facts to take home to their bridge friends.

  Such as:

  “Harriet, did you know that the Pipsissewa, or Chimaphila maculata, to be specific, grows absolutely wild on the Cape?”

  “Why, I sure didn’t, Lois. Isn’t that something? Bridge!”

  The temperature in the forest was cool and damp and we walked along the windy path going deeper and deeper, still. We passed two lovers making out on one of the many benches laid out for the guests to indulge in such behavior.

  “Yuck,” I said as we walked by. “So, the rules?”

  “Well,” James said and plucked a long blade of grass out of the ground and chewed on the end, “you may do nothing to alert the humans to our presence.”r />
  “Really?” I said and laughed. “Like what? It’s not like they can see, feel or hear us.”

  He turned around to face me and walked backwards down the path.

  “For instance, you notice a particularly fashionable female staying at the hotel and you feel the need to, say, raid her closet, well, that is against the rules.”

  “What?” I said. “Are you seriously telling me that stealing is against the rules? I thought one of the trademarks of ghostly behavior was mischief-making.”

  James laughed.

  “You, are one funny girl. No, stealing is not against the rules and yes, mischief is fine. That particular behavior is only forbidden because, what would the guests see if you went into Room 394 and slipped into Mrs. Alberti’s red ball gown and took a stroll around the hotel?”

  “They would see Mrs. Alberti’s red ball gown floating around the hotel?” I said.

  “Yes, exactly. The same thing would happen if I decided to steal Mr. Bramley’s Sting Ray or don Mr. Washington’s fedora.”

  “I bet you look handsome in a grey flannel fedora,” I said and smiled.

  “Oh, I do,” James said and winked. “But you see, doing those things would alert the guests to our presence. And then? Mayhem! The witch hunt wasn’t that long ago, you know. So, when we travel in the light, if we are holding or wearing any earthly possession, we travel via the underground tunnels or the side stairs. During the night, we aren’t as restricted as we are in the light.”

  We came to a beautiful natural arbor. Lush green grass grew on either side of the gravel path that crunched under our shoes as we walked. A low barrier made of stone and ancient columns, guarded the tall trees. Thick, ropy vines that climbed up and over the trees, intertwined overhead and created a dark, woody canopy under which we walked.

  “But wait,” I said and looked down at my dress, “what about these clothes? Why aren’t they seen?”

  “That which belonged to us in life, so too does in death,” James said. “Within reason, of course. What we brought to the Battleroy, your dress, my suit, those we were things we were—”

  “Killed in,” I said.

  “Yep,” James said and looked around the arbor. “Here, try this.”

  He plucked a colossal purple berry off a vine and pressed it against my lips.

  “What is it?”

  “Blueberry,” he said as he stared at my mouth, “bred by the Battleroy’s horticulturist.”

  I parted my lips and curled the tip of my tongue under the berry and sucked it in. The blueberry filled my mouth and when I bit down, it exploded. Sweet juice ran out of the corner of my mouth and onto my chin. James reached out and swiped his thumb over my chin and popped his thumb into his mouth.

  “Good, isn’t it?” he said and sucked on his thumb.

  “Amazing,” I said and savored the sweetness of the blueberry. “Like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Perhaps because you never bothered to experience fully before?”

  “I want more,” I said.

  “You can have as many as you want,” James said and smiled. “As long as there are no humans around.”

  I picked more berries off the vine and stuffed them all in my mouth. Gallons of thick, sugary fresh blueberry juice ran down my throat and chin as I ate the berries.

  “Fantastic,” I said as I wiped my sticky lips on the back of my hand. “Tell me more.”

  “Okay,” he said and took my arm. “Here, let’s go down this path toward the lake.”

  We walked down a sandy path to the right of the arbor. Three long docks stood side-by-side and there were lovely white swan row boats tied to the sides of the docks.

  “Oh, I wish we could take a boat! They’re beautiful.”

  “We can. Late at night when the others are asleep and the lake is off limits to the guests, I’ll take you to the Fairy Tale Island,” James said and pointed to a small island across the lake.

  “Fairy Tale Island?”

  “Yes, that’s what they call it. Not my idea,” James said. “It’s kind of cool in a fairy tale sort of way, if you’re into fairy tales.”

  “I’m not,” I said.

  “Well, then you don’t have to go. Although, everyone who goes loves the Fairy Tale Island. It’s magical.”

  The sun was bright and warm and James and I walked to the end of one of the docks and sat down on the edge. The swan boats bobbed around us and I looked down into the water past my dangling feet.

  “Yep, same girl,” I said as I stared at my reflection in the water.

  “Same beautiful girl,” James said into my ear.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Okay, so more stuff,” James said and took his suit jacket off. “Well, I basically covered it—no wearing or picking up any human object when humans are around and absolutely no going beyond the grounds.”

  “What will happen?”

  “What, if you go beyond the grounds?” James said and lay back on the dock.

  “Yes,” I said and lay next to him.

  He twisted toward me and came up on one elbow.

  “Your head will explode!” he said and tickled me. “And then you will be cursed to wander the grounds of the Battleroy for eternity without a head.”

  “Ichabod Pearson-Therrault,” I said and giggled. “It feels nice to be touched.”

  “Yes, always,” James said and smiled.

  I turned my head toward the sun and closed my eyes. The sun covered me in heat and I remembered the times my family summered on Martha’s Vineyard. I bathed in the sun for hours until my mother staggered across the grounds toward me, martini sloshing out of the glass, and reprimanded me because my skin would turn to leather and no man would want me. She always followed with a ridiculous postscript about a friend of a friend’s brother or cousin or servant who lost their sight from staring into the sun.

  “So-and-so used to have perfect vision, Sophia,” Mother slurred, “until the sun burned the corneas. Rendered blind, Sophia. The sun melts eyes.”

  I forced my eyes open and stared at the sun. I waited for the burn, for the melting to commence. Through solar flares and great waves of photospheric heat, I had a staring contest with the sun. And my eyes would have burned the sun before the sun burned my eyes.

  I looked over at James and smiled.

  “No spots,” I said as I saw his beautiful face as clear as glass and unobstructed by my minutes of sun worship.

  “No, no spots,” he said. “Wait until you see the moon for the first time or the stars.”

  James put his arms behind his head. I turned toward him and stared at his body, stretched long and looking hard on the dock.

  “James?”

  “Yes?” he said and yawned as he arched his back.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Do you want to go for a swim?”

  “Yes, after you tell me.”

  “Sophia…”

  “Obviously, we are going to spend a lot of time together and you know everything that happened to me, so I would like to know what happened to you.”

  “Are you always a nosey Parker?” James said and closed his eyes.

  “Curious,” I said. “I much prefer curious.”

  “I was here at the Battleroy Hotel with a woman. She had a husband. He caught us. He shot me, right here,” he said and pointed to his chest. “I died. End of story.”

  “Where is she?” I said.

  “She survived. Told the husband I forced myself on her. Kidnapped her, if you can believe it. Who kidnaps someone and takes them to a fucking luxury hotel?”

  “Did you know she had a husband?” I said.

  “I really don’t think that’s the point,” James said and closed his eyes.

  “Indulge me. I’m being…curious. Did you know this woman was married?”

  “Yes, Saint Agnes, I knew she was married,” James said and sighed.

  “Were you and she in love?”

  “No. I wasn’t,” James sa
id and stared at me. “But again, what’s the point? Does that mean I should have been killed?”

  “If you were in love, I could see you being a little less bitter about being killed. At least you would have died for something,” I said.

  “Who’s bitter? Anyway, I thought you would have dropped that ridiculous martyr logic after what happened to you. There is nothing worth dying for,” James said.

  “I disagree, I think love is worth dying for. True love, at least.”

  “And I disagree with you. Love is rarely real. When your husband promised to love you at your ceremony, was that real?”

  “That was…unfortunate,” I said.

  “Yes, as it was in my case.”

  I turned and looked at one of the swan boats. The water lapped against its base and it swayed back and forth with the gentle ripples flowing toward the shore.

  “What was your job?”

  “I told you, the caretaker,” he said.

  “No, that’s not true.”

  “How do you know, Sophia? You can’t read minds, remember?”

  “Because of your hands,” I said and ran my fingertips across the back of his hand. “Too soft; too manicured.”

  “I like to be well groomed, what of it?”

  “Come on, James, tell me. What were you before this?”

  James looked at me and sighed.

  “I owned things: businesses, homes, cars, people. That’s the long and short of it.”

  “People?” I said and whistled. “Man, the company that I keep.”

  “Good company, however.”

  “Of course, the best company,” I said. “When did it happen?”

  “Um, May 8, 1959.”

  “Really, 1959? You’re so old,” I said.

  “Well, if I was still human. For all intents and purposes, I remain thirty-one-years-old.”

  “Wow, you’re still old,” I said.

  “Yes, compared to you, Sophia, most are.”

  “I’ll never grow old,” I said.

  “And that’s the beauty of it,” James said and sat up. “You will never age, but you will still experience. Near the wine cellar, there is an amazing library. I’ll take you, it’s something else. Volumes and volumes of books and magazines and maps and documents—ancient and current. I’ve sort of made it my home. I spend hours reading, days some times. That happening before was unheard of for me and now, it’s just natural.”