Page 135

He turns and Branok is there. The two spirits gaze at each other, their jubilation flaring as fiercely as the sun, and then Xander turns, sheathes his sword, and tackles the vicar.

“Yes, Xander! He can be harmed now,” Branok shouts as the two ghosts wrestle, his face wild with a funny kind of pride and joy. Then he joins the fight.

I put my arms around Blue as we watch the ghosts struggle. The vicar might be able to take damage now, but he’s still powerful. The back and forth is dizzying as they appear in one part of the garden only to flash out and appear in another.

They rise above the wall and a cacophony of whispers whirls through the air. Blue cries out and covers his head. One of his ears is bleeding, his jumper stained russet. “Come here.” I cover his face and head with my body, clutching him tighter as the whispers rise to screams.

“I love you!” I shout, pressing the words into the untidy waves of his hair.

The spirits resume their fight beyond the wall, moving inexorably toward the cliff and sea beyond. The horned, smoke figure suddenly forms above them, towering and twisting. It flies at Boynton, who then grabs Xander and drags him to the cliff’s edge. The horned figure engulfs them and they fall away. Branok gives a roar and follows them.

And then there’s nothing. Xander is gone. Branok is gone. And so is Boynton. It’s just me and Blue in a quiet garden with sculptures tinted pink by the first light of dawn.

CHAPTER 22

BLUE

Levi pulls the car to a stop outside the cottage. “Just be aware that he might not be there,” he says gently.

But it’s to deaf ears, as I’m flinging open the car door and bounding up the steps, I fumble for my key, breathing out a sigh of relief when I find it at the bottom of my pocket. It would have been the last straw to have to go back and tell Lord St Claire that I lost the cottage key in the sculpture garden at midnight. I let myself in, tumbling headlong into the kitchen and shouting, “Branok?”

He isn’t here. The kitchen is quiet and still, the rocking chair looking almost forlorn in its emptiness.

Levi comes up behind me, sliding his arms around me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

I pat his hand. “I don’t mind.” I stop to clear my throat. “Well, obviously I do a bit, but it’s okay, macushla.”

He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Do you think it’s over?”

I consider that and then nod. “Yeah, I do,” I say hoarsely. “I can’t feel anything here now, and I couldn’t at the hall either.” I look sideways at him and press a kiss to his sharp cheekbone. “I think whatever happened to all three of them, it’s at an end finally.”

He sighs. “You did a good thing, sweetheart.”

“So did you.”

“Well, we’re a team.” He shoots a glance at me. “But as much as some things stay around, you know others can’t.”

“I do,” I say quietly. It’s a lesson I learnt with my mother, and it’s been reinforced over the years. I turn his face and kiss him, savouring the feel of his full mouth against mine. “People and spirits come and go,” I say when I pull back. “The only one I never want to leave is you.”

He smiles. “Then you’re in luck, because I plan on sticking around.” We stand in silence for a few more seconds and then he pinches my hip. “I vote we shower, order a breakfast from the café, and then eat it in bed.”

“Can we fit in a fuck?”

He smirks. “The spirit is willing, but the flesh might need a bacon sandwich for fuel first.”

“You’re such a diva.”

The sex is necessarily slow. We’re banged up and bruised in so many places. However, it’s as sweet as the dark brown sugar that Levi keeps in the tin in the pantry at home.

We’re lying on our sides with him tucked up behind me and his arms tight around me. His head is buried in my neck, his breath steamy, and I can feel the long length of his body hot and hard against my back, a faint trace of his sweat marking my skin. My legs are closed, my thighs are lubed, and he’s sliding between them, his cock heavy and already damp with precome. It catches briefly against my hole, then moves over my taint.

My brain is full of a static buzz, my nose full of the scent of sex, sweat, and the woodsy aroma of Levi’s cologne. I feel almost drunk on pleasure and love.

“That’s so good,” I slur, feeling his smile on my neck. He catches my ear between his teeth and bites down gently, and the tingle travels down my spine and sizzles my nerve endings. I arch against him.

“Do that again,” I gasp, and he complies, biting down and then sucking the sting. His hand leaves my chest, and he puts it to my mouth.

“Spit,” he orders. I do as he says, and he lowers his hand and fists my cock.