Supernatural Seduction: 5 Paranormal Novellas

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Supernatural Seduction: 5 Paranormal Novellas Page 7

by Holley Trent


  Malcolm hadn’t bothered Sarah with the rumors, and as he regarded her now, this woman who put no stock in the supernatural, he wished he felt as confident as she did about the nonexistence of ghosts. He’d felt their eerie presence on the battlefield, seen their wispy shapes sway above the bodies of fallen soldiers. He couldn’t dismiss the possibility of a haunted train.

  • • •

  When the soldiers took their leave, Malcolm and Sarah watched them mount their horses and disappear over the ridge, leaving the same cloud of dust that had heralded their arrival.

  “Funny how life can change in the matter of an hour,” Sarah said. “Perhaps ‘funny’ is the wrong word — more like heartbreaking.” She leaned into Malcolm, and he wrapped an arm around her. “Since I cannot send letters, I shall write them anyway — and save them for your return.”

  “I will return, Sarah. I may not be able to receive your letters on this mission, but I shall savor them when I get home.” Malcolm turned up her chin and kissed her mouth. “Since I met you, my reckless abandon ceased. Nothing is more important to me than living my life with you by my side.”

  “Just how reckless were you?” Sarah traced a finger down the hollow of Malcolm’s neck and across his collarbone.

  “Let’s just say that I thought I was invincible, but I suppose many young men do until they have something to live for.”

  “All I ask is for you to come back to me. It’s all I’ll ever ask.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Now that Abby knew Malcolm’s true identity, he wanted to show her that a vampire was still a man; that even though he was a monster, he could be genteel with a woman.

  He wanted to court her, but how did men court women in the twenty-first century? In the nineteenth century, a man had to request the pleasure of spending time with a woman through her father, and if there was a match to be made, it was based more on family standing and land acquisition than attraction.

  My, how times had changed. Where did one take a woman on a date? Malcolm had seen a few movies. He supposed that was an option. But he wanted to do something more physical with Abby, something that would bring color to her cheeks and leave her breathless. Making love to her would accomplish that, but he couldn’t take that chance. What if he got lost in the moment and bit her? Restraining himself would be extremely difficult.

  What would be safe?

  Aha. Perhaps she likes horses.

  • • •

  When her cell phone chirped, Abby didn’t recognize the number on her caller I.D.

  “Hello, this is Abby Potter,” she said, anticipating a student.

  “Good morning, Abby. This is Malcolm.” He cleared his throat.

  “Oh, hi.” Her heart sped up. “What’re you up to this fine Saturday morning?”

  “I was going to take Midnight for a ride. Do you ride … horses?”

  “For a moment I was picturing you putting your horse in a car.” She laughed. “Yes, I ride.”

  “I have a lovely mare, Matilda, not too spirited. She hasn’t been ridden for a while, but if you’re at all adept, she’s easy to handle.”

  “I grew up on a farm in Virginia. I guess you didn’t know that.”

  “I know very little about you, Abby, but I’d like to learn.”

  Abby wanted to pinch herself. Did he really want to get to know her? Heat rose in her cheeks. “Here’s my life in a nutshell. I’m an only child. My parents are both doctors. They married late in life, so they wasted no time having me.”

  “Are they still living?”

  “Yes, they’re retired now. They do a lot of volunteer work.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. You have a caring nature.” He paused. “So, would you like to go riding with me?”

  “Yes.”

  • • •

  Abby knocked on Malcolm’s front door, her heart in her throat. She wore jeans, a turtleneck, a sweater, and a windbreaker. The snow had recently melted, and with a clear sky and no wind, the ride wouldn’t be too cold. She took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, cool air and attempting to calm her jitters. She half expected Malcolm to answer the door in Civil War garb.

  When the door swung open, he was dressed almost identically to her. She laughed. “I was getting ready to salute.”

  “Wait until Midnight sees me. He doesn’t think I’m serious if I’m not in uniform.” He swept his arm aside for Abby to enter. “He’s descended from my Civil War stallion, also Midnight.”

  “How often do you do your Civil War thing?”

  “I travel to a lot of battle sites for annual re-enactments, and the schedule is even busier now that we’re celebrating the sesquicentennial. I always do Gettysburg in July, and before that, I’m planning to take Midnight to Shiloh in late March. I may do Chancellorsville in June.”

  “How does it make you feel, reliving the war?”

  Malcolm had been walking through the parlor ahead of Abby, but he stopped and turned. “No one has ever asked me that. No one has known I was there.” He sighed. “It makes me feel almost human to return to the time I was mortal.” A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “And you make me feel human.”

  • • •

  Matilda’s chestnut coat shone in the sunlight, and the white blaze down her nose highlighted her soulful eyes. Abby grew up riding, and she took to Matilda immediately.

  “Are Matilda and Midnight lovers?” Abby patted Matilda’s neck while Malcolm saddled her up.

  “They’re more than that. They’re right married, as we would have said in the 1860s.” Malcolm scratched the mare’s flank. “She’s had two foals, but the second one almost killed her, so Midnight is now a gelding.”

  Midnight’s tail twitched.

  “Poor fellow. Guess that was the end of his fun,” Abby said.

  “I think he’s just as happy to have his sugar cubes and apples.” Malcolm laughed. “And he’s definitely more even-tempered.”

  Malcolm helped Abby mount, lifting her by the waist as though she weighed ten pounds. She didn’t want him to let go. He handed her the reins. “She’s sensitive. You shouldn’t have to give her more than a small tug in any direction. Squeeze with your legs if you want her to speed up.”

  Abby wondered if that same move worked on Malcolm.

  Once they had the horses out of the barn, Malcolm mounted Midnight. “Are you comfortable with a gallop?” he asked.

  “Sure, as long as Matilda knows where she’s going.”

  “She’d follow Midnight to the ends of the earth.”

  As they headed into the cool November air, Abby thought the same of herself. She’d follow Malcolm anywhere, but after more than a century of living in the shadows, would this play … and she … unravel the safety net he’d so carefully built for himself? Would she be his undoing? He seemed completely human today, but he had an alternate nature that could surface at any time. She’d experienced it on the ghost tour when he made that remark about biting her neck.

  Watching Malcolm ahead of her, his broad shoulders against the wind, the most sensible move would be to turn from him and never look back.

  Chapter Twelve

  Another goodbye. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut as she clung to Malcolm, memorizing the feel of his arms around her, longing for a life in which the longest goodbye would be a trip to the market. With her face pressed against his chest, she inhaled the clean scent of his new wool uniform and prayed it would return without bloodstains or bullet holes.

  “What is it, darling?” Malcolm’s clean-shaven chin rubbed against Sarah’s head, catching tendrils of her hair.

  “Nothing, it’s nothing,” she said, pulling him closer.

  “No, I know you. I felt the shudder through your body. Tell me what you were thinking.”

  She pushed away, looke
d up, and squinted. “I was trying to remember a time when the only thing we worried about was how much the pigs would bring at market.”

  He brought her back to his chest. “You’re dreaming. We were never together — without war.”

  She sighed. “Yes, you’re right, but it was a lovely dream.”

  “Don’t stop dreaming, Sarah.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “I won’t. I shall dream of you every night — until you return.”

  • • •

  Malcolm, Clayton, Jack, and Malcolm’s two men from his regiment, William and Henry, rode out of Gettysburg on August 7, a hot and dusty day. Sarah waved from the porch until Malcolm disappeared from sight, melding with the horizon as the black speck of his stallion dissolved to an ink dot against the blue sky. Her heart sank in her chest when he disappeared, and she leaped down the steps and ran toward the western sky, lifting her skirts and pumping her legs to reach the ridge and catch another glimpse. Alas, nothing but horizon. She collapsed in a heap onto the dry ground, clutching handfuls of dirt, and then rolled to her back. She squinted into the sun and whispered, “Come back to me.”

  • • •

  After two days of near constant riding, the men set up camp on the Virginia-Maryland border in dense woods within sight of the railway line. Malcolm sent William and Henry to scout for Confederate camps, and Clayton headed east to report their position to General Meade. Their strategy was to first get a handle on the schedule of the trains, and then to destroy the railway ties, derailing the trains.

  The Confederates had used trains effectively to move troops over the past several years, and in fact, their victory at Chancellorsville was largely due to reinforcements who arrived by rail. But the tenor of the war had changed. Everyone felt it, from the teenage private to the seasoned general. Lee’s attempt to invade the North had failed. He was on the run.

  “Where do you suppose General Lee is, colonel?” Jack poked at the dwindling fire that had warmed their dinner of beans and hardtack made palatable by Sarah’s preserves.

  “I’d wager he’s heading to shore up Richmond.” Malcolm swiped at the crumbs on his chin, smiling to himself. At home, Sarah would have wiped his chin, clicking her tongue as she let her hand linger on his cheek.

  “So, if they’re not heading in this direction, that’d mean we won’t see many troops on the trains.”

  “I would agree.” Malcolm strode to where Midnight was tethered to a tree. He offered the horse a carrot.

  “Well, pardon my ignorance, colonel, but then why in heck are we here?”

  Malcolm gazed into the clear night sky, blanketed with stars. An owl’s mournful cry pierced the calm. “I believe we’re here to squelch rumors, lieutenant.”

  “Sorry, sir, but I’m not following.”

  “There’s been talk of a haunted train — inhabited by ghosts.”

  Jack rolled on his back and clutched his knees to his chest. His subsequent guffaw made Midnight start, and Malcolm patted the big horse’s nose to calm him. When Jack returned to a cross-legged position, he said, “I’ve had some strange assignments over the last couple years, but this has to be the strangest.” He scratched his head. “You don’t really believe this talk of ghosts, do you, colonel?”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Malcolm said as he ran a hand over two days of beard stubble, “but I’m itching to find out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Night Fright was becoming Kyle’s second home. As he pulled into the club’s parking lot, taking the spot next to Arlo’s black truck, his chest swelled with pride. Soon, he’d be immortal.

  Arlo nodded him through the club to a back room where Kyle plunked down on a white vinyl sofa that provided little give under his slight weight. With an upturned palm, he deferred to Arlo.

  “We’ve overlooked a valuable resource,” Arlo said.

  Kyle waited. If he played a guessing game with Arlo, he’d likely get smacked upside the head.

  Arlo grinned. “Malcolm’s got a thing for Abby. Otherwise, he would never have agreed to this play. He’s been slippery as an eel for years, and now that we’ve almost got him, I’m getting impatient.” He perched on the corner of his desk, crossing his legs yoga-style. “I don’t want him to settle into a groove. He needs some incentive to bring out his true nature, and that’s where you come in.”

  “Sorry, I’m not following.” Kyle clamped his hand over his mouth. He shouldn’t have interrupted Arlo.

  Sneering at Kyle, Arlo continued. “Vampires are exceedingly jealous. If you make a move on Abby, Malcolm will react. He won’t be able to help himself. He’s tuned to her.”

  “So, what do I do, kiss her in front of him?”

  “No, just get her alone and make an overture. He’ll be able to sense it. He’ll appear.”

  “Am I taking my life in my hands?” Kyle chuckled nervously.

  “Nah, he won’t do anything overt, but it’ll get his juices pumping, and the more we can force him to feel his true nature, the more likely he’ll be to let his guard down in the play.”

  “I’ve never come on to Abby,” Kyle said. “She’ll think it’s a joke.”

  “It doesn’t matter what she thinks. Malcolm will buy it.” Arlo unfolded from his pretzel pose and landed on the floor without a sound.

  Kyle grinned. He’d be that graceful … soon.

  “She may be surprised by your come-on, but so what? She’s collateral damage. We won’t let her live once we have Malcolm.”

  • • •

  In spite of her niggling fears about Malcolm’s safety, Abby couldn’t stay away from him. Whether it was his vampire magnetism or his humanity that lured her, her sexual frustration was mounting exponentially. Tonight she was going to take charge of the situation.

  She chose a hot pink cashmere sweater with a plunging V neckline. She would typically pair it with a sleeveless turtleneck, but tonight she layered it with a lacy camisole that allowed more than a hint of cleavage. Push-up bra. Thong. The long sweater hugged her butt, and she wore black tights to emphasize her long legs. Ankle-high boots with three-inch heels completed the ensemble. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and secured it with a jeweled barrette. And she hoped to get her money’s worth out of the bikini wax … her first one ever … that she’d endured that afternoon. She spritzed herself with J’Adore by Christian Dior. Hey, if it’s good enough for Charlize Theron …

  Arriving at Malcolm’s at seven P.M., she turned off her car’s engine and took a few deep breaths. She pulled down her visor mirror and batted her eyelashes. That new lash-lengthening mascara was a wonder.

  Malcolm, in a heather gray sweater and charcoal gray slacks, met her at the door. His sweater sleeves were pushed up to his elbows (such gorgeous forearms), and he was barefoot. Abby supposed his feet didn’t get cold, or maybe they were always cold, and it didn’t bother him.

  He smiled. “Incredible.” He looked her up and down. “You look … and smell … amazing.”

  She decided to dive in while the night was young. “Are you ever planning to make a pass at me?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “I’ve certainly thought about it.”

  “How often have you thought about it?”

  “Would every minute of every day suffice?”

  “What’s stopping you?” She crossed her arms under her breasts and pushed them up into the deep V of her sweater.

  “This is uncharted territory for me, Abby. I’ve never had a relationship — as a vampire.”

  She touched his elbow, and then ran her hand up his arm, feeling his muscles tense beneath her fingers. “It can’t be that different. Making love is the same, right?”

  “Yes — and no. Sex is the same, but I have a strong desire, overwhelming really, to taste your blood. It will take every ounce of my control to keep
from biting you. I’d say that’s a major departure from what most people would consider a ‘normal’ relationship. And I have the ability to coerce you, but I won’t. This has to be a conscious decision for you.”

  “You’re an honorable man, Malcolm. I trust you.” Honorable. Such an old-fashioned word, but it suited him.

  “As much as I want you, it won’t be easy to restrain my instincts.”

  “I’m ready to take that chance.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I won’t pretend I’m not frightened. I’ve never walked on the wild side.”

  “Wild isn’t what I had in mind. We’ll start slow.”

  Her pulse raced like a hummingbird’s. She was taking a chance, probably the biggest chance of her life, but need overcame reason. “I’m in.”

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  Abby nodded. The desire to be in his arms eclipsed her fear. She leaned into him, feeling the weight of his big body. He wrapped her in his arms, and everything else melted away. She tilted her chin, and he lowered his head. They kissed. He tasted fantastic, like her favorite smoky shiraz, but better. His thumb caressed the tender spot below her ear while his other hand cupped her head. Her tongue sought his, and he responded with longing and finesse, not too forceful, but not soft, either. It was the best kiss of her life, fraught with intention, and she trusted where he was going with it. The man she’d admired for years wanted her, and oh, she wanted him. Her toes curled.

  When the perfect kiss ended, he held her shoulders and gazed at her with a final question in his eyes. She nodded yes, unable to speak. This was what she wanted. He ran his knuckles down her cheek, and then he walked to the mantel, lit a candle and handed the candlestick to her. “The bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the right. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  The stairs creaked as Abby ascended. When she reached the top step, the reality of what she was about to do made her grab the banister. She looked down at Malcolm. “I’m not on birth control.”

  “I thought you’d done your vampire research.” He smiled. “We can’t reproduce, and we can’t acquire or transmit disease.”

 

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