by Tia Wylder
“What’s going on?” She blurted desperately, reaching out to grab him. The only way she could think to explain what she was seeing is that it looked remarkably similar to a computer glitch. His form became almost static-like, before disappearing from sight altogether. After a moment, the ‘glitching’ seemed to cease. He looked much paler than before, similar to the stereotypical ghost she had imagined in her books.
“I… I think I’m beginning to lose my tether to this world,” he muttered, examining his ghostly white hand. His eyes glowed a faint shade of red, and Kira had to swallow a sob as she attempted to gather him into her arms. She fell right through him, the parts of her that intersected the ghost man feeling unspeakably cold.
“No! No! We have to have more time,” she cried out desperately.
“Another episode like that and I don’t… I don’t think I can hold on any longer. Holding on, even now… it hurts,” he said weakly. She jerked away from him, considering his nearly invisible form with tears streaming down her cheeks.
It seemed she was running out of time. It was now or never.
Chapter Nine
Kira had never been suicidal. She had never even entertained the thought of killing herself. All she could reason, however, was that if a blood seal had attributed to this problem, so perhaps a blood sacrifice would solve it. At the very least, if the problem went unsolved, she could simply allow herself to bleed out. She rose from the bed, moving much like a zombie as she shuffled to the kitchen.
“Kira, I have something I have to tell you. Before I don’t get another chance,” Hercules managed, trailing after her with some difficulty. She paid him little mind, grabbing a pair of scissors off of the bathroom counter. She touched the edge of the blade with her fingertip, running it along the sharp edge. She winced as her finger was sliced through, but paid Hercules little mind as he cried out in shock. “What are you doing!?” He demanded, trying to grab the scissors from her hand.
“This is your last chance, Hercules. I don’t know what else to do,” she muttered raggedly, the blood from her sliced finger dripping on the bathroom tile. His hand continued to phase both through her and the scissors, and he cried out in frustration.
"Why are you doing this? I'm already dead! There's no sense in you being hurt too," he screamed. She turned away from him, sobs shaking her body. She pressed the sharp edge of the scissors to her wrist with the intent to slice through. "Kira, stop! If you did this to yourself, I'd never forgive myself. You have… you have a rich, full life ahead of you. There will be other men, flesh and blood men. Men who can marry you, give you a family. Men who will care for you, perhaps as strongly as I do. Maybe even more," he muttered as if the words pained him to say.
“I don’t want another man. I want… I want you. If I can’t have you, I don’t want anyone else. I… I love you,” she choked out. Her grip tightened on the scissors, and in one final desperate grab, Hercules reached out and snatched the scissors from her hand.
“I love you too, Kira. That’s why I can’t let you do this,” he managed, his voice and strength seeming to return to him. Kira continued to shake with sobs, all but collapsing on the floor. He crouched beside her, gathering her in his arms. Even if it was the last moment he had on this earth, he couldn’t think of another place he wanted to spend it.
"Hercules…," Kira began with a soft cry, turning to consider him. Her eyes widened in shock, and she reached out to touch his face. His skin was warm against her hand, looking as if it had been touched by the sun once again. Perhaps the most surprising thing of all, however, was the fact that she could not see through him. "You… you're," she sputtered, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I’m what?” He asked carefully, tilting her chin so that their lips may meet. She laughed almost hysterically, pressing a finger to the side of his neck. “What are you…,” he began, only for her to smash her lips desperately against his.
“Your pulse! You have a pulse,” she cried out excitedly. He quirked a brow, drawing away from her just enough to raise his hand to his own neck. Where scarce moments previous he had been pale and barely clinging to the afterlife, here he now sat with a pulse.
"I… oh my God," he choked out. The scissors were flung to the floor, forgotten. Kira held him tightly in her arms, nestling her face against his shoulder. "I'm alive," he managed.
“You are,” she replied weepily, pressing wet and what should have been disgusting kisses all over his face. However, he was certain he had never been more enamored with someone in his life. He slipped his arms under her, lifting her as he rose to his feet. He carried her back to the bedroom, a tender look in his eye.
“I love you so much,” he breathed, receiving a soft chuckle in response.
“Prove it,” she said daringly, pausing to lift his shirt off over his head. His eyes widened in shock at her seemingly insatiable appetite, though he couldn’t deny that the situation constituted celebration. “You did offer me flesh and blood, after all,” she said smoothly. He needed no further prompting, quickly shifting to shift his jeans down his hips. As she took in his magnificent manhood for the first time, Kira could do little but stare, mouth agape. He pushed her back against the bed, confidence radiating from his new and lively form.
“I’ll make love to you, good and hard. Like you’ve never had it before. Under one condition though,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around his own length and stroking it to attention. She quirked her lips in an excited grin, joyful tears still pricking at her eyes.
“I’ll do anything,” she murmured.
“Never scare me like that again,” he said forcefully, taking her injured finger and pressing his lips to it.
“That seems rather ironic coming from a ghost,” she said teasingly, tangling a hand in his hair. His real hair that anyone could see, but was still for her alone.
“Former ghost, technically,” he corrected, quirking his lips in a smile. “Now, promise,” he ordered. She caressed his cheek, lowering her hand to his pulse point as if to reassure herself. “Promise,” he breathed, gripping her hand and wrapping it around his own full length.
“I promise, baby,” she murmured. As he entered her for the first time, he was certain he had never felt so alive.
Chapter Ten
One Year Later
Kira busied herself with packing the belongings of her apartment, her bulging belly getting in the way somewhat. Hercules had promised to return later that day, mentioning that there was something important at the office that he had to take care of. She had smiled and kissed him before he left that morning, a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of her feelings for him. Though she looked forward to a future of perhaps being married, she knew she couldn't push Hercules into it. His asking her to move in was a rather big step, however, and she could only appreciate that he hadn't dumped her the moment she began to gain weight. As much as she exercised, she continued to sport the slightest gut on her normally perfect figure. Her old friends from work had suggested what might be causing the weight gain, but it couldn't be what they were suggesting. As much as she loved Hercules, and was certain he loved her, she wasn't sure the man was ready to be a father. After all, he had only just managed to get his affairs back in order, after claiming the person found dead in his home was someone else entirely. When attempts were made to recover the body, to identify whoever it may have been and confirm Hercules's claims, the body was nowhere to be found. Having attributed to the work of graverobbers, and with all the prints and medical records for the man checking out, no one could refute that the man who stood before them was Hercules Orlando himself. When asked where he had disappeared to, he simply explained that he was finding himself.
Kira supposed that finding her was part of the bundle. She smiled, resting her hand on her stomach and inhaling shakily. In spite of her reluctance to believe that she was pregnant, she had bought some tests just to confirm. Better safe than sorry, after all, and if she were pregnant, she would have to stop her occasional d
rinking. Having finished packing her belongings in various boxes, she grabbed the bag from the local drug store and fished out one of the pregnancy tests. She read the instructions, but they all essentially boiled down to the same basic thing. This one was digital and would leave no room for doubt. She would receive a resounding "Yes" or "No." She urinated in a small cup, placing the test in the cup to steep for half an hour. Then, she busied herself with moving all the boxes of her belongings by the door.
It was around an hour later that she went to check the test, and she heard the front door to her apartment open and close. She stepped into the bathroom checking the test and swallowing a gasp as she read the results. As Hercules opened the bathroom door, she turned to face him. She sputtered a thousand words a minute, and he shushed her gently, pulling her into his arms and kissing her tenderly.
"I have something to tell you," she blurted in excitement, and he grinned a friendly smile, taking a step away from her.
"Yes, well. First, I have something to ask you," he replied casually. He reached into his pocket, rummaging around for a moment before withdrawing a small velvet box. Kira's eyes widened, and her mouth fell agape as Hercules popped the box open. Within was held perhaps the largest diamond she had ever seen in her life. She gasped as the man dropped to one knee, holding the ring out to her. "Kira, I've loved you from the moment we met a year ago. You gave me life in a way no one else could have… quite literally," he paused, and the two shared a laugh. "It would make me the happiest man in the world if you would do me the honor of being my wife," he murmured. Tears spilled down Kira's cheek, and she fumbled with the bathroom counter, knocking over her cup of urine and fumbling to grab the test. "What on earth--," he began, smiling in confusion as the woman whirled around to press the stick into his hand. He looked down at it for a moment, eyes narrowing in further confusion. However, when it struck him just what the three letter word meant, he shouted out in joy. Kira leaped into his arms, pressing rapid and tender kisses against his lips as he struggled to place the ring on her finger. When it slipped into place, he gave a victorious whoop, stumbling backward out of the bathroom.
He collapsed back onto the single piece of furniture remaining in the living room, pulling her on top of him. Her round belly rested on his waist, and he leaned up to capture her lips with his own.
“This is the happiest day of my life,” she blurted. “And I can think of only one way to make it better. Let’s say goodbye to this shoddy apartment in the best way I can think of,” she murmured, pulling her shirt off over her head. She tossed it to the side, stretching out on top of him much like a pleased feline. He wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning back as she fidgeted with the button on his jeans.
“There are a lot of memories on this couch,” he murmured, breathing a sigh as his length was set free. She settled on top of him, intent upon enjoying the last moments they would be able to make love before the baby came along.
"And we'll be making dozens more, together. A lifetime more," she murmured. The two moved together in a smooth rhythm, and Hercules breathed a content sigh before speaking.
“A lifetime for you. Two lifetimes for me, technically,” he said teasingly. She smiled, nudging his shoulder gently.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better ghost to haunt my bedroom,” she said warmly. He paused for a moment, pressing up into her before speaking in a strangled voice to correct her.
“Former ghost.”
Loved By The Rake
Chapter One
Sinner! Whore! Wretch! Fallen woman!
But it's not my fault! He took me in the night while I slept, even as I begged him to stop!
Did you hear? Charlie Monroe's daughter bore a child out of wedlock! Can you believe! It's that new money, the middle class can't handle the rise in status, it overheats their brains. Didn't Charlie die a few years back? Poor girl lost her way without her father around to guide her. What a pity, she's so lovely, could have made a good wife for someone someday.
A poorhouse is no place for a baby, young missy. There's charity homes you might take 'er to, churches and the like.
I'm so hungry, I'm not producing enough milk for Rosie, she cries for hours from hunger, she is weak, her strength is fading, she's stopped crying, my child is dying, I must surrender her to save her.
I'm a failure as a mother.
Rumor has it that Lord Blackwood has his eye on you, girly, he's seen you in town, he knew your father.
Write him. Tell him I accept. I'll leave straight away.
Rosie, I'm coming!
***
Lily Monroe's heart was pounding as her carriage came to a halt outside the palatial Blackwood Hall. Situated on the outskirts of London, the estate boasted lavish gardens on all sides, bordered by high, spiked, wrought-iron fences. The facade was fashionable, with ornately carved moulding and stonework, but much of it was painted black or left its natural gray. The somber house seemed at odds with the garden outside, which was well-tended and tidy. She could just picture little Rosie running and shrieking about in the yard, chasing a ball or a hoop, and she would be well-fed, and warmly dressed, and Lily would know forever that her child was cared for. This thought made Lily smile as the coachman opened the door for her and helped her out. As it was now, she could only wonder whether Rosie was happy, and hope and pray that the charity home was taking good care of her.
Marry Blackwood, get Rosie back, were Lily's sole aims in life. Blackwood was such a repugnant man with such a horrendous reputation that after his second wife (rumored to be just as ugly and only half as agreeable as Lord Blackwood) died, there were no eligible women yet left in polite society who would consent to marry him.
Except for Lillian Monroe.
Her straits were dire indeed to ignore the warnings her uncle had given her as she readied to leave his home, but for years the guilt of abandoning her baby on the steps of the church had plagued her, and for years her heart had ached to see Rosie again. But the destitute orphan of impoverished aristocrats had not a cent to her name, and no means to care for her child. Lily could barely even care for herself, and she was now half-starved and sometimes sickly, forcing her into her uncle's care.
The only blessing to arise from her terrible circumstances was a fashionably tiny, seventeen-inch waist. Lily was laced so tight she could hardly breathe, the bones of the corset bruising the bones of her ribs, and as the manservant led her up the stairs, she surreptitiously pinched her cheeks to make her complexion more lively. Her heart was in her throat now as the front door of Blackwood Hall swung open, revealing a spacious, lavish interior that belied the family's long-standing wealth. Lily had to remind herself not to gape, for she was supposed to be a girl of breeding, even if destitute, and she knew it was rude to stare, but from the shining mahogany floors to the high, carved ceilings with colorful frescoes painted at the top of the walls, she had never seen anything so magnificent.
“Lovely, I know,” said a gruff voice from behind, heralding the arrival of a cloud of tobacco smoke and a certain other... odor. So, the rumors were true. Lily steeled herself and thought of Rosie, as she always did when faced with difficulty, and found the strength to plaster on a honeyed simper and turn around to meet, for the first time, her fiance.
He was of a height with Lily, which was remarkable, since Lily was not a tall girl, and he was thrice as wide as she. He bore his teeth at her in what she supposed was meant to be a smile but it was not very merry, nor could she focus on it very well for she was distracted by the appalling state of Lord Blackwood's teeth. Several were missing, and the others were brown and yellow from years of excessive smoking. He reeked of tobacco, was smoking tobacco (making Lily's eyes water and forcing her to suppress her coughs), and when he moved, a smell wafted from his person that made Lily think he had not bathed since the New Year. He was also more than twice her age, with wiry gray hair growing in unruly tufts from the sides of his head, but the dome of his scalp was bald and reflecting the light from the sconc
es on the wall. He had an unkempt mustache to match his hair. After trying to smile at Lily, Lord Blackwood put his pipe back in his mouth and furrowed his brow at her in appraisal.
Lily was twenty (to Blackwood's fifty), with soft, wavy blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back and pinned in rosettes at the back of her head with just a few curls framing her face. The years of hardship had given her a delicate, angelic aspect, with wide eyes, pale skin, and a fragile frame. Her last pound had gone to purchasing the frock she wore, which was secondhand and at least two seasons out of fashion, but a pale blue color that enhanced her pallor, and of a cut which flattered her already pleasing figure. She widened her smile and curtsied at Blackwood.
“So thin,” he grumbled, “you look like a bloody scullery maid, but eh, you'll do.” Blackwood waved a hand in a circle, indicating she should turn around. “Hideous frock. My God. You'll change out of that at once. Minnie will help you. Go on change, or you'll spoil my appetite. Then join us for supper.”
Lord Blackwood lumbered off in a cloud of smoke, and a maid of an age with Lily took Lily's hand and led her down the hall to the stairwell. Lily bit back a retort that perhaps Lord Blackwood's appetite could use spoiling on occasion, judging by his size, but she needed Blackwood to like her so she kept it to herself.
As she followed Minnie up the stairs, Lily locked eyes with the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, whose face was so devastating and his body so slender and strong that her knees felt weak and she had to lean on the banister for a second. He was tall and very sharply dressed, with arresting blue eyes and tidy auburn hair.