Haunted Hearts Read online

  “You’re going to come. I can feel it. That’s right. Let it happen.” She dropped his cock, which strained toward her in agony, and he lowered his mouth to her belly. His tongue circled her navel as he pushed hard into her, rhythmically, not letting up. Her inner muscles began to tighten. She groaned and clutched his shoulder, pulling him on top of her.

  “Now.” Her voice was a ragged whisper. “Do it now.” Her pelvis pumped upward against him and he was lost.

  His cock was enormous, rock hard, and when he speared into her, her muscles contracted like a fist, the pulsing spasms stroking and gripping him like nothing he had ever felt.

  He raised himself over her, gazing down at her face, her expression one of exquisite, painful pleasure. She pulled him into her deeper.

  “This,” she gasped. “This.” Her eyes flickered open, then closed. She lifted her hips against him, grinding upward.

  A slow-motion electric shock raced from every cell toward the apex of his thighs. His whole body went hot. The pistoning of his hips became a blur of sensation, culminating in a scorching climax.

  Ari cried out. The jolt of her orgasm gripped him from the inside, draining the last of his energy. With a final thrust, he groaned and collapsed on top of her. They lay gasping for a long moment and he was dismayed to feel dampness on his cheeks. Was he crying?

  It was Ari. Her quiet weeping prompted him to full awareness, and he raised himself to look at her. She was smiling, eyes closed, tears streaming down her face.

  He stroked hair from her forehead and traced her tears with a gentle finger. “Good tears?” he whispered.

  She nodded, eyes still closed. “They’re here,” she said, voice full of wonder. “The spirits. They’re here. All of them, all around us.”

  Warmth flooded him. “You called them and they came.”

  Her eyes opened on his and she wept as she spoke. “I’ve missed them so much.”

  He smiled and kissed her softly. “You won’t have to do without them anymore.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Halloween day dawned cold, crystal clear and bright. Sun streamed across the room, waking Ari before Nick groaned and drew a pillow over his head. He wound an arm around her and held her snuggly, spooning. “Don’t go anywhere,” came his muffled voice.

  She smiled to herself and wriggled against him, her back to his chest. His response to her was immediate and soon he was kissing her neck and licking at her shoulder. He stroked and squeezed her breasts and his cock hardened and swelled against her. Memories of the night before sizzled. Arousal was like a drumbeat pounding through her, hot and insistent. She wanted him. She arched her back in invitation.

  His hand disappeared from her breast, leaving an aching shadow. Then she felt something different, the head of his cock against her entrance, testing, teasing. She was slick and ready, which turned her on more.

  She moaned and shifted, giving him better access. The teasing continued. He pressed inward, then withdrew. Pressed and withdrew. His erection radiated heat, beckoning to her.

  He kissed the back of her neck, biting gently, then sucking hard. Another thrust forward and he stayed, a shallow, enticing penetration. He reached around to press his hand between her legs.

  He played her clit, stroking in time with his thrusts, deeper and deeper. His teeth grazed her shoulder and bit, this time harder.

  Ari gasped as the stabbing pressure of Nick’s cock angled against her G-spot. He rubbed into her and she bucked back against him. The ache of pulsing need became unbearable. Her perception narrowed to only him, to her body where they were connected.

  It was happening so fast. She couldn’t hang on. Her inner muscles clenched, grasping him, trying to pull him in further. A wave of sensation, of blinding ecstasy, crashed over her as he cried out his own release.

  Reverberations rang through her and her muscles pulsed and slowed, pure pleasure vibrating through every cell.

  They lay quietly. Nick’s breathing slowed as he drifted back into sleep.

  She basked in the glow of being held, of being wanted and protected. It made her feel like she could do anything. She could be anything.

  More than that, she could be herself.

  She was ready for this day.

  An hour later, having left a sleeping Nick and snuck home, she was showered and back at her computer, doing research.

  “Samhain ceremony, here I come,” she murmured. “Martha, get ready to be reunited with your brother.” A frisson of light, of confidence and excitement, filled her. I can do this, she thought.

  A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. She padded to the front hall, barefoot, wearing jeans and T-shirt. She expected to see Nick’s tall, broad outline on the other side of the frosted glass but was surprised to see a much smaller figure there.

  It was the neighbor she’d met at Starling Pond the day before. The man was surrounded by a sea-green swirl of feisty octogenarian energy. “Mr. Pringle, how nice to see you.” She opened the door and gestured. “Please come in.”

  Wizened, stooped and balding, Mr. Pringle smiled and stepped into the foyer. “Perhaps for a moment, Dr. Fairchild.” He handed her a package he was carrying, about two feet square, wrapped in brown paper. “This is the painting you saw yesterday. I’d like you to have it.”

  Ari’s eyes went wide. “Oh, I can’t possibly accept this, Mr. Pringle.”

  “Nonsense, young lady!” The old man waved a gnarled hand. “You liked the painting and it was gathering dust in the spare bedroom.” He adjusted his hearing aid and smiled mischievously. “To tell you the truth, I never cared much for it. Oh, it’s nice enough, don’t get me wrong. But my wife, Helen, loved it. She was always proud we had a piece by the elusive E.M. Jenkins.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Helen was a lovely woman and I miss her, but she was a bit of a snob.” He gestured to the brown paper package in Ari’s hand. “When you showed so much interest in the painting yesterday, I knew you should have it. Helen would have wanted it that way.”

  Ari stood helplessly, taken off guard. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much.” She stood in the doorway as the man nodded his goodbye. “Mr. Pringle,” she said with a small frown. “How did you find me?”

  The wrinkled face broke into a full grin. “Oh, you can find anyone on Google!” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and raised it in the air. He waved and disappeared down her front walk.

  Ari watched him go, still stunned. A sensation of something emanating from the painting caused her to look down at the package in her hand. In her mind’s eye, a faint image of a different old man came to her. One who wore an expression of sadness leavened with hope.

  “Earnest?” She raised the brown-wrapped package and studied it. She was so absorbed in her thoughts and the image that she didn’t notice Nick’s Jeep had driven up until she heard the door slam and raised her head.

  The Indiana Jones grin was brilliant. “I was going to scold you for leaving me like that but now I’m curious what you’re doing on your front porch staring at a package.” He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  Her voice was full of wonder. “I think Earnest has sent me a message.”

  Nick kissed her neck and nodded at the package. “That’s a message? Did it come with return postage?”

  “Smart ass.” She pivoted. “Let’s go in the house.”

  They sat at the kitchen table and unwrapped the painting.

  Nick whistled. “Not bad.”

  “Indeed.” Ari gazed at the work of art—for that was truly what it was—for several minutes. “If he was this good, I’m amazed I haven’t heard of him. His work should be in museums.”

  “Maybe it is.” Nick pulled out his phone while Ari continued to study the painting.

  The scene was reminiscent of the works of later impressionists. Outside. A natural setting. Two main figures, a boy and a girl in early adolescence, picnicking next to a lake. Smaller figures appeared in the background. An atmosph
ere of playfulness pervaded the picture.

  “Look at the light. It’s phenomenal how he got the sunlight sparkling on the water and slanting across the trees. It’s almost photographic, through a gauzy lens.”

  Nick held out his phone. “You nailed it. That’s what he was known for.”

  Ari read the description and shook her head. “I would never have guessed. We would have gone on thinking the man was a recluse, heartbroken after the death of his twin.”

  “Well, he was likely that. But he seems to have spent his life painting the two of them together. It says here that nearly all his paintings are of children, usually a boy and a girl of the same age.”

  Ari ran her hand over the plain frame and laid the painting on the table. “Poor Earnest.” She regarded Nick. “He and Martha need to be together again. And I’m ready to help them. I know I can do it.” She reached over and kissed him, lingering, savoring, before her rational brain kicked in. Her mouth tipped into a smile. “Do you have a suit, Devlin?”

  Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Like a business suit? Definitely not.” He chuckled. “Not my style.”

  “Okay, but come on. You don’t have anything except T-shirts and cargo pants? Not that I don’t like those. I do.” She leaned in and bit his lower lip. “But I had something else in mind for tonight.”

  “For the Samhain ceremony?”

  She was impressed he pronounced it correctly. “Here’s what I’m thinking. Martha can’t find Earnest. She either doesn’t realize he’s in the spirit world or she’s looking for a little boy. It’s possible she’s never realized the passage of time.”

  Nick blew out a breath. “Damn.”

  “Right. So, I think we should wear clothes reminiscent of the early nineteen-forties.”

  He frowned. “You think that’s needed?”

  Ari inclined her head. “Probably not. But it might help. And after all, it is Halloween.” She winked.

  He considered. “Does that mean you’ll wear stockings with the seams up the back? The kind that hook into garters? I’ll go out and buy any suit you want if you’ll do that.”

  She laughed. “Deal.” She glanced at the kitchen clock. “It’s getting late. I’m kicking you out. I still have prep to do and you’ll distract me too much if you’re here. I’ll see you at the Garcias’ at eleven. That will give me plenty of time to set up.”

  Nick rose reluctantly. “I’m doing the final edits on the video piece, which won’t take long. It’s due to the station at four, so I’m free after that. Can I at least bring you dinner? Or wine? Or whatever you want ever, now and, well, for a long time?”

  This caused more laughter, which felt like a cool breeze on her face.

  “Rain check. We have plenty of dinners ahead of us. I’ll see you at eleven.”

  “You won’t start without me?”

  “Of course not. I need you.” Was this true? She knew she could cast a circle and call the spirits on her own, but Nick had powerful masculine energy, kindness, and was very open. His presence would almost certainly increase the magic.

  “What about Father Joe?”

  “I’ll call him. If he wants to join us tonight, I have no objection.”

  Nick nodded and cupped her face. “Until eleven o’clock this night, then, my magical muse.” He placed his lips on hers and she fell again, into his eyes, into his heat, into his energy. His mouth was hot, his kiss soft. His tongue touched hers and she exhaled with relief, desire, joy. “Get out of here, Devlin, before I rip your clothes off.” She pushed him away with difficulty.

  “Tonight.” He pointed at her, stooped to pick up Sojourner and nuzzle the black cat’s neck. “I’ll just take her with me,” he said, slinging the obliging feline under his arm.

  Ari giggled. “Get out of here and leave my familiars with me.”

  “I knew it!”

  * * * *

  As Ari stepped out of her car in the moonlit dark of the evening, heat rose in Nick’s chest, a swell of pride and desire. He could barely hold back as he approached.

  “I could eat you alive right here,” he murmured, lifting the heavy bag from her shoulder. She was fully decked out in a wickedly snug black dress that fell to her knees, had a cinched waist, deep V-neck, shoulder pads and, yes, god, she wore stockings with seams that ran up the back. Shiny black high heels and a sleek chignon completed her nineteen-forties-inspired look. He whistled. “You look like Lauren Bacall in To Have and To Have Not.”

  She smiled and bit into her glossy red lower lip. “Keep your voice down, and don’t devour me right now, if you can resist. Father Joe is watching us from the living room window.” She beeped her car locked. “And Lauren definitely didn’t wear specs or carry conjuring supplies in her glamorous handbag.” She squinted at him. “You look pretty swell yourself but let me get you inside where I can appreciate the look.”

  He’d gone all out. Between Rocky and a local thrift shop, he’d put together a gray suit that was reasonably dated but fit him well, a blue-striped tie, wing-tipped shoes and a gray fedora that evoked the vibe of years past.

  They went in and greeted the priest, whom Ari asked to do a walk-through of the house to see if anything was out of place while she began her set-up. Once the priest disappeared upstairs, she approached Nick, ran her hands up and down his chest and leaned in to whisper in her most sultry voice, “Anybody got a match?”

  He closed his eyes and swallowed. Damn woman actually knew the line from To Have and To Have Not. He was lost, utterly and completely.

  He reached into his pocket and produced a book of matches. Her eyes widened.

  They both laughed.

  “Let’s celebrate Samhain and conjure some spirits.” She pressed her lips to his but was gone, pulling items from her bag, before his brain could catch up. He blotted lipstick from his mouth with the handkerchief he’d folded into his breast pocket.

  Father Joe appeared a moment later. “Everything looks in order.” He gestured to Ari. “I’m here to help if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll stay out of the way.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Father. You’re an important part of this, and I might just need you, depending on what happens.”

  Nick didn’t like the sound of that. Why would Ari need the priest? She hadn’t mentioned any concerns about this conjuring. His arm muscles bunched protectively as he watched her, fascinated and mesmerized.

  Ari cast the circle as she had the night before, this time including the area encompassing the couch and a side chair. The coffee table was moved to allow for more floor space and she placed a small bottle of wine and glasses there. Then she stood in front of the couch and raised her arms, eyes closed and silent, face incandescent.

  Nick’s throat tightened. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

  “The space is cleared,” she stated, then began placing symbols of the elements in their quadrants.

  The candles were lit and symbols were set. It was time to begin.

  Ari gestured for Father Joe to join her and Nick inside the wide circle she had delineated. The three of them stood in the flickering light. The incandescent orb of the moon was visible through the tall windows, seeping through gauzy drapes.

  The long blue feather was raised. “This is a circle within a circle, with no beginning and no end. Spirits of all elements, animals, plants, our beloved ancestors and angels, you are invited here, to be with us in a ceremony of celebration.” She placed the feather on the mantel, next to the anointed candle, then turned to gaze at Nick, then Father Joe. Her voice was jubilant. “Tonight we celebrate the sacred holiday of Samhain, when the veil between the living and the departed is thinnest.”

  Ari reached for Nick’s hand, then Father Joe’s. They stood in a small circle within a circle. “Thanks be to all the spirits for the life and bounty we have enjoyed. Thanks be to the departed for their presence and protection, guidance and support. We celebrate you!” They raised their hands into the air together.

  Nick watched the pr
iest’s expression to gauge his response to all of this. The man was either accepting and going along or faking it well. Nick wondered what the cleric was thinking, but there would be time to find out later.

  Ari dropped their hands and reached for the bottle of wine and small glasses. “Let us thank Mother Nature for her harvest, the plants for their gifts, as well as those who gather and prepare our food and drink.” She poured a small amount of wine into each glass and they sipped.

  “Now let us focus our thoughts, our feelings and our sensations on the spirits of those who have lived in this house in years past, those whose energy still suffuses this home.”

  There was a long silence. Nick looked over at Ari. Her eyes were closed, her face raised, mouth slightly open as if waiting for something. He tried to focus his thoughts the way she had instructed. It took him a moment, but he landed on an imagined picture of young Earnest and Martha together and stuck with that.

  Ari lifted her arms into the air, arms wide. “Spirit of Martha, you are invited and welcomed here, into the house that was your home when you were in your earthly body. If it pleases you, make yourself known to us.”

  Silence. Ari gestured to the men to sit. Father Joe took his place on the side chair. Ari and Nick sat on the couch. Several moments passed. From their place in the front room, they could hear the kitchen clock ticking from down the hall.

  At last, Ari stretched her arms out in front of her. Her eyes were half shut. “I feel you, but I cannot see you. Is it you, Martha?”

  The clock ticked. Nick watched Ari, discomfort gnawing at him. She was responding to something, that was clear, but he couldn’t tell if it was something good or not. Her face shifted from curiosity to confusion.

  A flicker of alarm caused his muscles to bunch.

  “Can you appear to me now, spirit friend?” Ari reached for Nick’s hand and held their arms out together. “We are here to help you. There is nothing to fear.”