Jack-O-Lantern: Lady in White

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Jack-O-Lantern: Lady in White Page 2

by Elizabeth Jewell


  His hand shot up and grasped hers by the wrist. “Not so fast,” he said.

  She growled in frustration. His grin infuriated her, as did the smug sparkle in his green eyes. He was in the wrong here -- he was the unfaithful one who should die with his blood splattered over the inside of his car. He was already stripped of all dignity, awkwardly bent against the car door, fly open, briefs shoved down inside his jeans, limp cock protruding, sticky with the orgasm that had sent him into unconsciousness. The ring glinted on the hand that held her wrist. The stone in it was big and round. It would be green, she knew, though she couldn’t make out the color.

  “You can’t wear that,” she said, her voice a raspy growl. The turn of events had her past angry, cold fury a knot in her stomach. “Only a faithful man can wear that ring.”

  “I’m not married,” he said. “Not even a girlfriend.”

  “But you said --”

  “I lied.”

  She stared at him, at his cocky grin. “You bastard.” She jerked her wrist away from his hand, and his fingers loosened, letting her go this time.

  His grin faded. “I can help you,” he said quietly.

  “I don’t want help.”

  “You don’t? You want to wander forever? Do you really want to be cursed to this for eternity?”

  She glanced at him, then away, rubbing her wrist. “I deserve it.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  He spoke with a quiet certainty that made a tremor of hope rise in her. She hated him for that. Hope was something she neither deserved nor was allowed. “You can’t help me. I don’t want you to help me.”

  His hands rose between them, one hand rotating the ring where it lay on the second finger of the other. “It’s what I do.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I knew you were here, Lydia. I came looking for you.”

  She blinked, unable to comprehend what he was saying. “Why?”

  “I told you. It’s what I do.” He straightened as best he could in the awkward confines of the car, tucking his flaccid cock back into his briefs and zipping his jeans. “I knew you were here. Read it in the papers, put two and two together…”

  “It’s not possible. No one believes in ghosts anymore.” She felt on the verge of tears, afraid to hope, afraid not to. He couldn’t mean what he was saying.

  “I do.” He looked at her, his gaze sincere on hers. “Lydia. You’re warm.”

  The quiet words broke the dam. She put her face in her hands and wept.

  Her reaction surprised Cam. He had expected anger, aggression, attempted homicide, but not this broken, sobbing, heartrending remorse. Her hands shook. She folded them against her body, just below her breasts.

  Automatically, he reached for her, touching her arm. She felt human. He wasn’t sure what it meant. The stone had been meant to disperse her, to send her on to the afterlife where she belonged. But something else had happened. He wasn’t sure why.

  She flinched as his fingers curled around her wrist. “It’s going to be all right. I’ll help you.”

  “You came to end me,” she protested.

  “And I didn’t.”

  “What did you do to me?” Her voice was strangled.

  “I don’t know. It must have been the stone.”

  “It was supposed to…”

  “I know.” His thumb stroked her arm. Tears slipped down her cheeks, making his chest ache. “But it brought you back.”

  “What… what do I do now?”

  The question took him aback. He honestly had no idea what to say. Then, looking at her damp eyes in the darkness, he realized he knew the answer. “I’ll take care of you.”

  The cell phone beeped suddenly, indicating the return of service. Cam looked at it in surprise.

  “You will?” Her voice was a raw whisper.

  He nodded. “I will.” He drew her close to him and kissed her. Her strange new warmth suffused him, her lips moist and soft against his. He could feel her pulse in her mouth as it opened to his questing tongue. She was alive. Somehow the talisman had brought her back, for the sake of a faithful man. She would kill no one else, and, more importantly, she had a second chance.

  After a few moments he drew back and ran a thumb over her warm lips. “No need to be afraid anymore. You’ll be all right.”

  Reluctantly, he let go of her, to turn in his seat and try his key in the ignition. After a vague, rumbling protest, the car started. He turned the wheels toward the road, and they went on.

  Elizabeth Jewell

  Elizabeth Jewell is the author of a growing collection of paranormal and contemporary erotic novels and novellas. She’s been writing since before she could read, and has given in to the fact that she’s completely addicted to the process of composing fiction -- especially hot, steamy, paranormal fiction. Elizabeth lives in Colorado with her kids and an annoying ferret named Spike. You can visit her website at http://elizabethjewell.kabeka.com and read her blog at http://elizabethjewell.blogspot.com

 

 

 


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