by Jackie Ivie
“A ghost?” Grant asked.
“Yeah. Ectoplasm might have this effect on technology. At least, in theory. And we don’t have much else here. Doctor?”
“I’m warning you, Sam. One more time with the doctor crap and I’m spilling your secrets on the ’net.”
“Just be sure and put ‘for a good time, just call’ at the end. Or better yet, we could run an online ad. Just warn me first. I’ll be swamped with calls.”
“A ghost. That would be so rad. Impossible…but rad.” Grant mused, completely ignoring the rest of the conversation.
Jake continued working as they bandied words. He ignored them for the most part, chuckling occasionally, and when he finally added the ultra blue shade to the eyes on his drawing, he sent the image to the screen, overriding everything already there.
He should have played a drum-roll for the reaction he got the moment Cassandra’s drawn image filled the screen. Exclamations and choked words and more than a few expletives filled the area. It wasn’t her exactly, but it was pretty damned close. The mass of red hair. The cobalt blue eyes. The perfect, pristine skin. Lush lashes. That mouth. Bosom. The itty-bitty waist.
“Somebody hit me!” Sam swore. “That’s your invisible woman?”
“You got to be kidding. No. I don’t believe it. No.” That was Grant.
“We put an avatar like that in a game, and I’m going to need a lot more funding for the lobbyists just to keep our mature rating,” Malcolm joked.
“What’s going on?”
Ryan appeared from around the side of the screen, carrying a platter with Jake’s steak on it.
“Jake drew his invisible dream girl. To prove a point or something. I guess he didn’t think we believed him. Look for yourself. We’re incapable of speech at the moment.”
“What am I supposed to—? Wow! I mean…super wow! She’s electrifying. Paint me neon, somebody. I’m about to light up a sign.”
Ryan turned, started speaking, and almost dropped the platter. Jake was in for the save. And then he had his steak supper atop his keyboard pad, and was slicing bites and shoving them in and swallowing. He ignored the cooked portion of his steak. He just wanted the blood. And raw meat. He should be shuddering. Gagging. He wasn’t. He was getting an infusion of vitality and strength with every bite. Better than any energy drink. He couldn’t shake the sensation. It was odd. Strange. Weird.
“Neon. You’re funny. That’s probably why he pays you, since you’re a crap techno wizard.”
“You telling me Jake just drew that?” Ryan asked.
“Why do you think we’re all open-mouthed and drooling?” Sam asked.
“That’s his imaginary woman?”
“You think he’s capable of imaging her?”
“She can’t be real.”
“Well, I want to know why you can’t find that vision of woman on the video feed. I thought you were the best. You can find anything anywhere, encrypted or not. But not her? I think you better try again,” Sam said.
“And try harder,” Grant added.
“She can’t possibly be invisible. It’s too unfair to contemplate. Are those breasts real?” Ryan asked.
“Careful boys. I’m the jealous type,” Jake said, just before shoving in another bite. He was getting warm. Too warm. Making him wonder why he’d donned a turtleneck sweater in the first place. He had passive heat radiating from floors and walls and here he was, wearing a turtleneck. Even knit from Marino wool in the finest gauge imaginable, it was too hot. He yanked it over his head, chucked it across the top of the sofa, and went back to eating.
“You are not.”
Jake swallowed and stood, hiked his pants back to just below his waist, and then gestured at the screen behind him. “About her? Guys. Please. Just try me.”
“All right. No hitting on Jake’s invisible woman. Everyone got that? Now, get me a fresh download of that video feed. Or give me the IP address. I’ll work on a board. Move over.”
Ryan dropped into a spot beside Daniel, and started shoving a finger along the surface of another mini-screen.
“You get a fresh dose of inspiration, did you?” Malcolm sent the jibe.
Ryan flipped him off with a raised middle finger. Left hand. His right hand was busy moving items on the screen. “If that woman is in this feed, I’m finding her. And maybe…just maybe…if I’m really lucky…she’ll have a twin sister.”
“Screw that. Find triplets,” Sam replied.
The floor trembled beneath Jake then, sending a murmur of it through him. And then a whisper of sound touched his ear. It was his name. Spoken softly. With that killer accent.
“Jacob.”
Jake steadied himself by opening his stance, riding out the sway until it ebbed and then ceased. He sent a glance at his companions. Nothing had altered. They were gathered about Ryan. Watching his machinations on the little screen or looking at Jake’s rendition of Cassandra. Another tremor scored the floor, making it feel like it buckled. He rode out the motion. This was impossible. That didn’t mean it wasn’t happening.
“Jacob?”
The whisper got more definitive as if she’d gotten closer. It also carried a worried note, as if he wasn’t standing rooted to the spot, every hair on his body rising to alert status. That’s when he started wondering if she really was a ghost. Or some other metaphysical manifestation that only the weak-minded experienced. And if she was, he started wondering what the hell he’d do about it.
“Jacob?”
“Waiting, Babe. Right where you left me.”
He whispered it, turned slightly, and watched as from the same exact place Ryan came from around the television, Cassandra did. Just like that. Soundlessly. Gliding along the floor toward him, her eyes locked with his as she neared. His heart was like a caged thing, hammering at his chest for escape. His blood was flying through his veins, filling his ears with a high pitched note.
She was wearing a different outfit, but not by much. The corset-thing strapped to her upper torso was fashioned from jade green satin, the jagged-edged mini skirt from several layers of black lace. She wore thigh-high embroidered stockings this time, and another pair of little ankle boots with buttons up the outsides that looked like they’d been carved from real jade. It closely resembling last night’s ensemble, only with this one she wore a wide-brim hat, complete with black veil. She was breathtaking. She took every bit of his air.
And then one of his friends finally saw her.
CHAPTER SIX
This assignment was dealing out firsts. Always before, she’d hunt the target down, lift her veil, crook a finger, and once he came near, he was a dead man. Most of them died with a smile on their lips, because draining a man of his life fluid had a pleasurable side if done right. And Cassie liked seeing them experience that. Complete pleasure followed by death. It was payback for what the young viscount had done to her. Yet this Jacob Walsh assignment? Everything about it was a first. She felt renewed. Everywhere. Deliciously so. Fresh. Vibrant. Pure. She knew why.
She’d found her mate.
It was still unbelievable. And she’d been so fixated on getting back to him she hadn’t even noticed he had other humans with him. Lots of other humans. That sort of mistake doomed a mission, even an easy one like this one. All she’d had to do was find the person behind a certain video game. Terminate if necessary. Report. The league hadn’t known Jacob Walsh was her mate, though. Nobody could have foreseen that.
She scanned the area of the cavernous room where they were sequestered. She had four potential targets to deal with – four. At least they were grouped together. And then she ignored them again. All she noted and felt was Jacob! Her mate. She’d actually found him. Just like that.
The thought brought such happiness, she probably radiated it. Cassandra took in every facet of his chiseled frame as she approached. He wore loosely-fitting workout pants, riding low on his hips, showing off a good section of him. And his near-nakedness. She licked her lower lip. Her mate was
certainly masculine. Handsome. Well-formed. Muscled. Hard. Impressive. Everything about him seemed fashioned to draw a glance of interest. He knew it, too. Why else was he forever putting so much of it on display?
“Uh…Jake?”
One of the other men spoke. Cassandra glanced back at the group. The fellow who’d spoken was big, much taller and broader than her mate. He was standing and looking at her with his mouth open. She usually garnered that kind of response. That’s why she clung to shadows and hid her face. The stunned expression was mirrored in the three men facing her. There was one fellow sitting on the sofa, his fingers rapidly sliding all about a little drawing pad thing. It resembled the little boards she’d used in learning her letters a century and more ago, but no stylus, chalk, or writing implement was needed. Just fingers.
The world was changing too fast. She should probably keep up.
“I’m out of words, man. Totally. Even if I blink, she’s still there.”
“By-the-way, you’re a crap artist, Walsh. Complete crap. You should give it up. She’s much better looking than her picture.”
“And just how the hell did she get in? I’ve got the entire place on lock-down. Anybody hear an alarm? Anyone?”
The guy on the sofa made an exclamation of disgust. “Will you guys shut up? I’m trying to concentrate here! I think I’m onto something. There’s a weird sort of electrical pulse thing in the images. It’s faint, but I think I can segment and highlight it. I mean, it’s weird. Like something out of science fiction weird.”
“Ryan.”
The over-dressed gentleman in the suit jostled the sitting one in the shoulder without once taking his eyes from her.
“Give me a minute. Guys, I’m serious. I think I can find her. I do. Maybe if I add a color wash—”
“Ryan.”
This time it was a young, freckle-faced fellow tapping the busy fellow’s shoulder. He shrugged it off.
“Crap. You guys expect the world, and don’t even give a guy time to find dirt. There! All I needed was a few seconds and you all have to mess with me. I want you to know I just did the impossible. There isn’t anyone else who could’ve found that. I’m telling you guys…I’m good. I’m better than good. And I’m not blowing smoke when I tell you if this outline is correct, she’s even more spectacular than our man Jake portrayed.”
“Uh, Ryan. Will you pull your head out of your ass and look up?”
The big fellow shoved on the sitting guy, knocking the pad off his knee and that had the man jerking his head up and that’s when he finally saw her. She watched his eyes widen to the same circle shape his mouth was.
“Holy shit.” The man finally said.
“That’s what we’ve been trying to say,” one of them answered.
Jake stepped to her, his essence reaching out and enwrapping her even before he put an arm about her and pulled her against bare skin. The instant he did, the fantastic sense of awareness rippled through her. Again. Even stronger than last night. It was incredible. Wonderful. His voice seemed to echo through his chest and into her. She had to force herself to listen to what he said.
“If you’re finished, Ryan, I’ll do intro’s. Gentlemen? I’d like you to meet Cassandra…uh. What a jerk I am. What’s your last name babe?”
“Braun.”
“Cassandra Braun. From London…and not my imagination, as you can see for yourself.”
“You suck, man. Totally.”
“The fellow speaking is Sam. He’s head of security when he isn’t giving his mouth a workout with wise-cracks. The clueless guy on the sofa is Ryan. He’s a techno wizard. The best. Unless you include me, of course. The large guy in the back is Grant. He makes a great bodyguard when needed. That’s Daniel at his side. My other security guy. And lastly, the fellow dressed for a wedding is Malcolm. You might note he’s the same size and build as me. Stands in for me with the paparazzi, and other undesirable avenues where I don’t want to be seen.”
“Like fundraising events,” the man inserted.
“Money. Looks. Intelligence. And now the hottest chick this side of the Atlantic? You kill me, man. Totally.”
“He means both sides of the Atlantic. And everywhere else. He’s just a bit slow. Sam? Apologize to the lady.”
Cassandra frowned slightly before turning back to Jake, and looking up. He was watching for it. Olive green eyes met hers. He had the slightest copper shade in his eyes…toward the center. She’d noted everything about them last night. They were just as deep and unfathomable as she recalled. He might as well have visible tendrils reaching from him, binding her against his side. She couldn’t stop the shivers. She’d found her mate! Her entire sphere seemed filled with Jacob anymore. The others were mere irritants.
“Uh…you want us to take a hike or something, boss?”
“If you need it in words, you really are fired. All of you,” Jake replied. And then he winked and looked toward them, releasing her gaze. Cassandra dropped it to his shoulder. His chest. He didn’t have much body hair, although he didn’t look shaved. Or waxed. There was the slightest line of light brown splicing his torso, and leading down…
Cassie gasped and shut her eyes. She was too new to this.
“You heard him, gentlemen. After you, Grant. Oh no!”
“What now?”
“I just remembered I left a date at that fundraiser. She’s going to be sore. Really sore. What time is it?”
“Now, that’s funny.”
“Midnight. You better run back, Doctor. Before she talks to the tabloids.”
“Oh! And secure the door on your way out. No admittance tonight. You got that, guys? I don’t want to be disturbed unless the place is on fire. And even that’s chancy. It better be a big fire.” The words rumbled through the chest she was held to.
“Sure thing, Mensa. Wait! I’ll just take the pc pad with me. You guys need to see this. Oh shit. Grant! You lost my program! You are one big clumsy ape. You know that?”
“Come on, Ryan.”
Words accompanied their steps. Away. Down a plateau of steps. Through the doors. And then there was silence. And him. Jacob. The one being that brought every dead cell back to life. Energized her existence. Elevated this afterlife to paradise. Gave everything meaning and purpose. And joy. He was moving, turning her toward him with one arm, while the other came around her, encircling. Hugging her against him. Granting her everything she’d lost. And more she’d never known.
But she had to tell him. Wasn’t that part of this? Wasn’t that what she’d been told? A mate needed to be willing. You couldn’t just take a man and make him undead. She couldn’t recall the rules. It was so long ago…and it had seemed so far-fetched.
Then.
She felt his fingers beneath her chin, working at the bow she’d fastened. She hadn’t pinned the hat on, so if she tipped her chin just slightly, it would drop off, taking the veil with it. He pulled the ribbons free. She tipped her chin. The hat fell somewhere behind her. A moment later she felt him searching for and then pulling the myriad of pearl-tipped hairpins securing her hair off her shoulders. Each time he pulled a pin, the resultant lock fell, caressing her shoulders and upper arms as it went.
“You’re here. Oh…Cass. Cass. You came back.”
“Cass?”
She moved her glance to his, and the moment their eyes met reason and responsibility went right out the window, fading quicker than the other humans had. She’d seen a grainy old photo of him from years earlier. He’d been handsome in that. It was nothing compared to the reality. Especially when he smiled, highlighting little laugh lines on both sides of his eyes.
“Cassie is such a mouthful,” he replied.
“It’s Cassandra,” she told him with what was supposed to be an authoritative tone, but just sounded whispered and wanton and eager.
“Are all Brits so strict?”
“No. I—wait.”
“What for?”
He lifted her, and bent his head, giving her the slightest hi
nt of breath at her lips with his words. The embrace stole her intentions and tossed them aside. She daren’t kiss him. Not yet. She had to keep her thoughts lucid, her motives clear. She had to tell him—
His mouth touched hers. He had an arm about her waist and, the other hand at the back of her head, securing her…to him. The hold was superfluous. She was glued in place in order to absorb him, giving and then taking every facet of the kiss. It was too perfect. Too wondrous. She wasn’t careful, and a canine elongated, then it sliced, and at the first taste, her knees buckled, heaving her against him.
A moan surged through their entwined forms, coming from both throats, the meaning in perfect collusion. She needed him. She needed the real physical pleasure he gave, and the way he gave it. She craved it. Desired it. Had to have it. Her hands flew about his sides, his back, over his shoulders, skimming along every ridge of flesh-covered muscle, while his fingers threaded down her spine, following the line of her clothing. Up. Back down. Lifting the seventy little hooks she’d sewn there and getting nowhere. That gained her a bit of sense. She had to tell him before she lost restraint. Making love to him was too beautiful an experience. Vast. All-encompassing. It robbed her control. Obliterated her limits. She was afraid and trembling with it. She didn’t know if she could keep from draining him. And changing him. She didn’t know if she could stop.
“You’re…shivering,” he told her. “Oh Babe. Are you cold?”
“No, I—Jacob…wait! I have to tell you something.”
“The only thing you have to tell me is how to get through this damn corset.”
“Bustier,” she replied.
His huff of breath carried a hint of laughter. “Fine. Bustier. Whatever. Who fashions such a thing? With tons of little hooks up the back…but not one of them work. It’s like they’re sewn…closed.”
“They are.”