Haunted Hearts Read online

  She stopped him with a kiss, full on, her tongue deep in his mouth while she trailed her hand back to the bulge in his shorts. Arousal raged as never before. She stroked him gently, then harder. “Take me,” she whispered into his mouth while yanking her panties down. She slipped her hand under his waistband and squeezed his ass. “Get these off and take me. I want to see you. I want to feel you,” she hissed, still kissing him.

  Thinking was out of the question. Part of him knew he had to make sure she was ready, because hurting her was a distinct possibility. But an equally significant part wanted to plunge into her without any feeling for what she would experience. Raw lust, fear and adoration vied for power within him.

  He kicked his boxers to the floor and the weight of his excruciating erection thudded against her stomach. She rose and shifted to gain access to his cock. Her eyes were huge as she stroked him, her hand soft but firm as it rose and fell, bringing him to the brink. Leaning in, she licked him tentatively, sighing.

  Nick sucked in a deep breath and shifted, voice firm. “Stop now.” He pushed her onto her back.

  “Hey.” She frowned. “I want more of that.” She snaked a hand down, reaching for him.

  “Time for that later.” He lowered his mouth to hers and bit her bottom lip. “You’re first. Don’t bother fighting it. I’m bigger than you are.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she threw her arms over her head, splaying her body beneath him. Her face was luminous, her breasts glowing in the shadows. He placed his mouth on hers and breathed through her, extracting her oxygen and giving it back as he moved down to her breasts.

  “Oh, god.” Ari gasped and writhed under his attentions, her nipples becoming firm points in his hands. “I need…you.”

  He squeezed, drawing another gasp, then moved down. He stroked the thatch of hair between her legs and tangled his fingers there, tugging gently. Her hips rose with clear wanting and her breath came faster, sending a surge through every cell. He could restrain himself only a little longer.

  He gazed at her face, flushed in the dim light, and almost couldn’t believe it. “You’re a goddess,” he murmured, kissing her again, touching his tongue to hers.

  Her thighs parted as he trailed his fingers down, finding her slick. “Almost ready,” he whispered. He rubbed her clitoris softly, hearing her moan, feeling her hips lift for more pressure. His chuckle was soft against her mouth. “More?”

  Her head tossed on the pillow, breaking their kiss. “Do it,” she gasped. Her eyelids fluttered and her gaze focused on his. “I want you inside.”

  His fingers circled her opening and she swelled against his hand. “I can feel how much you want me. You’re soaked.” He pressed the tip of a finger into her and swirled. “That’s right,” he whispered. “Feel. Just feel.” He speared his finger deep into her as he continued to rub her clit. His finger slid in easily, her internal heat nearly scorching him. He leaned in to kiss her again, eyes locked on hers.

  “That’s it. That’s so good,” he growled. “Lift up to me. Feel my finger inside you. Soon it will be my cock.” He pumped his hand against her, loving the sensation of her clamping around him, her wetness covering his hand.

  “Now. I-I can’t wait,” Ari stuttered.

  There was urgency in her movements, the way her hips twisted against his hand. It crossed his mind to make her come first, then enter her, but knew it would be less painful if he penetrated her during the orgasm.

  He slowed and kissed her cheeks and forehead. “Ready, baby?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded.

  “No, open your eyes.” His voice was firm. “I want to see you. And I want you to see me when we do this.” He waited. Her eyes opened and her lips parted in anticipation.

  “That’s good.” He raised himself above her on one elbow and stroked her with the head of his cock, around her clit, then down, pressing against the hot, wet opening, not entering, but skimming the sensitive surface. He was like rock, painfully hard as he brought her to the brink.

  A moan began in the back of Ari’s throat and she pumped upward against his surging cock. He stroked harder and her breath became staccato. Her face was a mask of desire, such naked wanting that it stole his breath away.

  “That’s it. Let it come.”

  As her back arched and her moans became louder, Nick eased the head of his cock into her opening and circled her clit with his thumb. Ari’s mouth opened on a wail and he pushed forward, impaling her to the hilt. His body electrified, surrounded by molten, pulsing flesh.

  He thrust into her, gently at first as her wail rose, then harder, pounding, her hips churning against his. She panted and choked, looping her arms around him, her hands pulling him into her harder and deeper. Her inner muscles wrapped around his length, sucking him inside.

  His climax ripped through him, down his spine and out through his cock. He cried out, gripping her hips, digging his fingers in and grinding into her.

  At last, they lay gasping and spent. The candles guttered. The last thing Nick heard before he dropped into an exhausted, euphoric sleep was Ari’s dreamy voice.

  “Now I’m satisfied.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Is the camera level? Your hand is shaking.” Nick’s amusement and exasperation were obvious as he interrupted his script to address the cameraman.

  Ari suppressed a smile as Rocky Roberts followed Nick through the Garcias’ house, capturing Nick’s commentary about the investigation. Rocky clearly wanted to bolt. His face was pallid and sweaty and he scanned nervously as they progressed from room to room. In spite of the serious nature of her work, and this case in particular, Rocky’s terrified hypervigilance added a touch of levity she appreciated.

  “We have to keep this moving,” she directed the men, glancing out of the window as they ascended the stairs. “It’s getting dark and Father Joe will be here soon. No more filming once we settle in for the night.”

  “Roger that.” Nick winked at her. Rocky threw her a relieved glance and went back to his task.

  It had been decided that each of them—Ari, Samir, Nick and Father Joe—would be in charge of monitoring sections of the house throughout the night, looking for any sign of paranormal activity. Samir would keep the master monitor, the computer that displayed the view from each room, at his station in the living room. Ari would be in Violet’s room, Father Joe in Rosie’s and Nick in the master bedroom.

  Despite the clench in her belly, Ari seriously doubted anything would happen. Still, she had to go through the motions. According to Father Joe, the poltergeist—if there was one—would be most likely to show itself in Violet’s room, then Rosie’s and finally the master bedroom. The downstairs was less of a concern, though not off the radar.

  Ari followed Nick and Rocky, half-listening to the formulaic commentary and trying not to stare obsessively at Nick’s perfect physique. He was dressed in what was apparently his usual uniform of cargo pants, Timberlands and fitted dark blue T-shirt, which showcased his muscled form and the languid way he moved. She felt like wallpaper in plain jeans, black sweater and sneakers, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. However, Nick had kissed her like there was no tomorrow and told her how edible she looked before they left her house, so maybe he didn’t put much stock in fashion.

  The previous night still vibrated through her body like echoes of a symphony. Every cell seemed to sing. She’d never imagined it could be like that with anyone, woman or man. It was as though part of her had been asleep all her life until now. A sense of being awake and alive and joyful radiated from her.

  Have I ever felt like this before? she wondered as she trailed the men into Violet Garcia’s room.

  Stuffed animals adorned the bed, which was covered in a flowered yellow comforter. Dolls and books were lined up neatly on the shelves and sparkly dress-up clothes spilled out of a toybox. The innocent, playful spirit of the little girl who lived here inhabited the room, almost as if Violet were standing right there with her, holding her han
d.

  Ari’s heart went still and she remembered when she had been awake, alive and joyful before. It hit her like a kick in the gut. Her knees suddenly went weak and she sat heavily on the floor next to Violet’s cheerful little bed.

  Nick’s concerned glance was a palpable beam of energy, but he was in the middle of his monologue about Violet. She gestured to him that she was all right as she tried to catch her breath.

  Nick went on without a hitch, looking into the camera and building the story he’d been narrating as they moved through the house. “The adorable little girl has been telling her parents stories of a new friend, a girl who plays with her and loves her but doesn’t like her older sister much. Dolls torn apart, books thrown to the floor.” He paused. “Sibling rivalry, or something else? Our paranormal investigator, Dr. Ariadne Fairchild, world-renowned expert on the supernatural, is determined to find out. She knows…that what children say matters.”

  Ari watched him, trying to anchor herself to his image so she wouldn’t cry. By the time she was Violet’s age, she’d begun to realize she could feel things, see things and hear things that other people didn’t. Her parents had told her it was imagination, and she’d accepted that. The world was full of radiance, possibility, fascination. She made friends with an endless parade of characters, spirits, animals, trees, those who had lived before. She didn’t need other children. She had a full life of imagination. She’d been happy.

  Then, when she’d been around Rosie’s age, everything had changed. No longer a small child, she’d been told in no uncertain terms that the time had come for her to stop talking about angels and spirits and the like. Trees didn’t have voices. Everyone knew that. There was no such thing as ghosts. People did not emit colors that clued you in on who they were. That was all make-believe. She must stop imagining those things.

  And she did.

  It was so hard, like shutting all her friends in a room and locking the door forever. She’d cried herself to sleep countless nights, lonely, heartbroken and confused. What had she done wrong? Sometimes, the locked door creaked open a bit, but she slammed it shut again because she had to. It was terrifying to think that people might call her crazy or dangerous, as her parents had implied.

  Her adolescence had been full of self-doubt. A million times she had wondered, Am I crazy? Am I dangerous? The visceral fear of herself had helped keep the door securely locked. She would be normal, no matter what the cost.

  But the price had been her spirit. The truth of that was undeniable now.

  Nick was kneeling beside her, breaking her reverie. “What’s happening?” He put his arm around her.

  “I’m fine.” She bit her lip and sucked in a breath. “It’s a sweet little room, so I was just…enjoying it.”

  He studied her for a second too long, curious. “Remembering?”

  Her eyes must have betrayed her alarm, because he added, “Your own childhood room?” He glanced around. “Mine was definitely not this nice. I was always a slob.”

  Ari tried to laugh and stood up, wobbling a bit, accepting the hand he offered her. “I think little boys are supposed to be slobs.” She nodded toward the door. “Onward. Father Joe will be here any minute.” Better to shut down the personal reflection conversation. It wasn’t relevant to what they were doing and she didn’t want to deal with any of those memories right now.

  An hour later it was full dark, Rocky had left with obvious relief and the team was dispersed to their respective stations. Clearly, the hardest thing about this night would be boredom. As the hours ticked by, Ari began to question the wisdom of the whole idea. What had made her agree to do this? Was it Samir pushing her, or was it something else?

  Never mind, she admonished herself. Too late now. She checked her phone and sighed. Nearly midnight. Seven hours to go. A haze of unease settled over her and she shook it off with difficulty.

  The instructions Ari had given everyone were to engage in a quiet activity to keep them awake but to remain vigilant in visually scanning and listening, as well as being “open to sensations”. At the time she communicated all of that, it had sounded ludicrous to her. Now she wasn’t sure, and anxiety seeped into her chest like shards of ice.

  What if something does happen?

  Most of the literature on paranormal events indicated that ghosts preferred dark or dim light, so she had instructed everyone to use as little light as possible to remain oriented. The cameras Samir had set up in each room were equipped with night vision lenses. From her place propped up on Violet’s bed, nightlight the only illumination, Ari heard the distant sound of Samir tearing open packages downstairs in the living room. He’d brought enough junk food for an army, claiming it was the best way to stay awake.

  Father Joe was next door in Rosie’s room, reading by the light of the little girl’s tiny ballerina lamp. Nick was down the hall in the master, using the en suite bathroom light and his tablet to play a game.

  Her gaze strayed to the window. Skeletal branches of trees outside skewered her view of the moon, which hung low and swollen in the sky. Cloud cover diluted the moonlight to dull milky streaks.

  Ari rubbed her arms and shivered, thought it wasn’t cold in the house. The early winter gloom of late October didn’t permeate the cozy room, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of chill in her bones. She pulled the scrunchy from her ponytail and allowed her hair to fall free, warming her neck.

  Her phone chirped and she smiled at the text from Nick.

  You feel far away.

  She tapped a reply. SO far!

  He sent back a hug emoji and the chill dissipated. Whatever was going on between them felt amazing and right, though her analytic brain could list a hundred reasons why it wasn’t a good idea, it wasn’t what she wanted in life and it was unlikely to end well. Right now, though, she didn’t care about any of the counterarguments.

  She settled in, trying to get comfortable on Violet’s bed, but not so comfortable that she’d fall asleep. Her eyes were heavy as she scanned the room again and tried to listen for any unusual sounds. Samir’s crunching and slurping reverberated up the stairs and she texted him to keep it down. He replied with a poop emoji and she shook her head in the dark.

  She opened a news app on her phone and tried to read. What seemed like a moment later, her eyes fluttered open and she realized she must have drifted off to sleep. Her phone was on the bed next to her.

  What had awakened her?

  Her skin prickled. The air in the room was askew, molecules dancing sideways. Something was off.

  The illumination from the nightlight was obscured, veiled and nearly undiscernible. Her neck went stiff with dread as she swiveled in that direction.

  The murky outline of a child stood in front of the light.

  Her heart thudded as she blinked hard to rid herself of the image, but the form of the child became more and more distinct, as if it were a Polaroid photograph developing before Ari’s eyes. It was a girl about Rosie’s age, wearing a white dress, knee socks and black Mary Janes. She wasn’t fully clear, but the shiny moon-shaped barrette was visible on one side of her bobbed hair. A locket in the shape of a heart hung about her neck.

  Ari straightened her glasses to study the specter, the feeling of unreality slowly morphing into something else. Something she remembered, but too faintly for it to be of help. All she could do was remind herself to breathe and stay with the entity, whatever it was.

  She wasn’t afraid.

  After a moment, a distant sound arose and gradually became more audible. It was the soft, plaintive bleat of crying. At first, she wasn’t sure, then it became so loud as to be undeniable. Echoes of sobs expanded in the room as Ari remained transfixed in place on the bed.

  The jagged sounds of weeping rang throughout the house. No one could possibly miss hearing it. Where is everyone? Then it dawned on her. It was possible only she could hear the sound. What this meant was so overwhelming that she pushed the thought away immediately. She had to focus.

&nb
sp; Her inhalations became slow, deep and deliberate. Finally, after several breaths, she had a grip on herself.

  The girl was still there, the yellow glow from the nightlight outlining her form, which shifted and wobbled. The disembodied sobbing continued, reverberating dimly, as if bubbling up from a deep cavern.

  Ari ran a tongue over dry lips and leaned forward. “Martha?” she whispered.

  Nick heard Ari before he saw anything. Her footfall on the stairs was followed by the slanting shadow on the ceiling as she descended, and he was out through the bedroom door and down the hall, after her before he knew what he was doing.

  She didn’t seem to hear as he reached the bottom of the stairs and followed, passing the living room where Samir was asleep on the couch. “Ari,” he breathed, perplexed. Where was she going? He hadn’t received a text about leaving her station. He raised his voice to a stage whisper. “Ariadne!” There was no way she wouldn’t hear him.

  A spike of real alarm shot through him as she either ignored or didn’t notice as he closed in on her. The hall to the kitchen was dark and he nearly bumped into her when she went stock still, head cocked as if tuned to a far-off sound. Gingerly, he touched her arm. She was motionless, listening, not reacting to his presence. He sensed, though, that she knew he was there.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, bracing himself.

  She gestured to him to be quiet and continued into the kitchen, which was bathed in moonlight streaming through the breakfast nook window. Again, she stopped and listened.

  He came to stand behind her, the instinct to protect her kicking into overtime. He leaned in close. “What are you listening for?”

  Her expression, when she turned to him, was a mix of alarm and confusion. And something else. Curiosity?

  Before he could ask, she pivoted and began scanning the walls of the kitchen in the pale light of the moon. He followed her, trepidation warring in his chest along with fascination.

  At the juncture of the breakfast nook and the little hall leading to the back entry, there was a narrow, nondescript door. Ari put her ear against it briefly then gripped the knob and rotated it slowly. As she pushed inward, the door creaked loudly and a gust of dank air washed over them. As his mind tried to grasp what was happening, Ari raised her phone and used the light to illuminate rough wooden stairs descending steeply to a black hole of a basement.