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With some difficulty, Mary pulled herself out of the memory. Fergus finished his meal and rose from his chair. But he was scowling as he turned to face her.
She wasn’t sure why until he asked, “What the hell have you been thinking about because your scent has suddenly flooded this room?”
She couldn’t exactly speak. Her gaze fell to his thick pecs, then to his rippled beautiful abs and finally lower to the tan leather gladiator briefs. Yep, aroused. His erect cock was fully outlined, angling beneath the fabric.
More of the same memory returned. She knew his cock well. She’d taken him in her mouth. She’d licked up and down his stalk and played with him. She’d loved her time with him in the dreamglide.
Chills raced over her shoulders and her lips grew swollen with need. A deep ache formed between her legs. She could hardly breathe.
“You need to stop this.” His growly voice was now hoarse, and his eyelids were low.
“I’m not sure I can, Fergus. I’m remembering more. I took my time with your body, didn’t I?”
He lowered his chin. “Yes. You did.” A soft low growl left his throat.
The sound got to her, causing her to clench. She gasped. She might not remember all that they’d done together, but her body apparently did.
She watched his nostrils flare several times. He took a deep breath and finally said, “I’m leaving right after dusk.”
“Okay.” He should leave. Whatever this was between them had no possible future.
“Thank you for the meal. For everything.” He turned, moving in the direction of the hall once more.
“Fergus?”
He paused in his steps, but didn’t look back at her.
She continued, “Why are you able to create a dreamglide when you’re a wolf?”
He still didn’t turn to look at her. “Because we’re sharing powers, like Juliet and Brannick, though I have no idea why.” He put his feet in motion again, then disappeared quickly down the hall.
She went to the table and gathered up his dishes. She was achy and badly confused. She felt a strong compulsion to follow after him, maybe jump on his back and bring him down to the floor.
Okay, she had to knock it off, or she’d go crazy.
She cleaned up the dishes and after a time, heard the guest shower running. The sound was unfortunate, however, because now Fergus wouldn’t even be wearing his briefs. He’d be naked. All she had to do was open the door and she could take a good long look at him in the shower.
Once more, she told herself to get a grip. It helped to have a chore to do as she tidied up the kitchen.
When she was done, she made her way to the master bedroom. She stopped in the doorway and almost let out a scream since an unknown woman reclined on her bed. Well, not on her bed exactly, more like a few inches in the air above the covers. Mary had no idea who she was but she did know what she was.
“You’re a ghost.”
No shit, Sherlock. The ghost’s telepathy went straight into Mary’s mind.
The woman wore a red tank top, tight black leather pants, and matching boots that tied in front all the way to the knees. Though her form was mist-like, she seemed very real. She had short black hair and large, heavily made up blue eyes. The mist rippled as she moved.
Mary glanced around. “What are you doing in my bedroom?” It seemed a logical question.
The woman planted her hands on her hips and wagged her head. And what are you doing with my husband?
“Your husband?”
Fergus.
Mary put a hand to her chest as another memory surfaced, of talking with Fergus about his wife and what had happened to her. “Oh, my God. Of course. You’re Sharon?”
Yup, the one with the torn up, broken neck. Her lips turned down. What a stupid way to die. I’m still embarrassed that I let that bastard seduce me, then kill me. I should have known he was after the Gordion pack and didn’t give a damn about me.
