Page 65 of Leafpoint Lighthouse

“No.” Lyra came to stand beside me. “Yet you’re the most real person I know.”

Somehow, I understood Lyra’s meaning.

“This can’t happen,” I murmured.

“Nope, but it is, isn’t it?” Lyra replied. Her hand slipped into mine, and I squeezed it.

“You’re five and twenty. Too young to…” To what? Settle down with a ghost? Throw her life away? Why was I discussing this? Nothing could happen.

Lyra turned to me. She reached up and cupped my face.

“I’m dead, Lyra,” I said harshly.

“Yet, I can hold you. Touch you. Kiss you,” Lyra’s voice drifted off, and she rose on tiptoes and drew my head down to hers.

I stopped a hair’s breadth away from her lips. Then I clasped Lyra close and kissed her.

Lyra pressed against me as she sank her hands into my hair and kissed me enthusiastically. I’d no idea how long we kissed, but we were panting when we pulled back.

“This is wrong,” I whispered.

“William, I don’t care. You’ve treated me better than any man I’ve ever known,” Lyra retorted. “You certainly kiss like a god.”

I’d had women when alive, but none had aroused me like Lyra. Even when we fought, I desired her. And now with Lyra in my arms, I regretted so much—being born in the wrong time, not knowing her then. So many regrets. But I couldn’t change, and neither could Lyra.

“You deserve a man and a family,” I whispered, and that hurt. Because Lyra had been clear, Leafpoint was her home. I’d have to watch Lyra with a husband and children that weren’t mine. That would be too painful. I couldn’t imagine it.

“William, I deserve someone who loves me. Is that you?” Lyra pushed gently.

I clasped Lyra close again, and she tucked her head under my chin. “Yes, with everything I am, I am irrevocably in love with you, Lyra Jasper.”

“That’s good because I somehow fell for you too,” she whispered.

“Lyra…”

“No, I don’t want to hear an argument. Against standard, accepted relationships, this may be wrong, odd, and yeah, completely unusual. But you can turn solid, become real. That gives us a chance. Just don’t tell me it’s necrophilia.”

“What does that word mean?” That wasn’t one I was familiar with.

“Having sexual relations with a corpse,” Lyra said.

I drew back, horrified. “That happens?”

“Yes. It’s gross, I know. Mind you, I suppose I could claim I’ve a serious case of spectrophilia.”

“Of what?” I demanded. What language was Lyra speaking now?

“It’s also known as phasmophilia. Basically, they mean having a sexual attraction to a ghost or having sex with a spirit.”

I began spluttering. “I…I…Lyra.”

“It’s okay. One day at a time.” She patted my chest.

“Lyra, I can’t handle that information,” I admitted, and Lyra giggled. It warmed me inside to hear it. She didn’t laugh enough. That scoundrel had no doubt ground Lyra down. Men like Cale should be flogged publicly.

“Where do we go from here?” I asked.

“We solve the mystery of the evil entity and then move on from there. Once we’ve dealt with that, we make plans.”