Page 21 of Between Heart and Stone

“This is very one sided, isn’t it? Maybe I should have made more answers.”

A pause. Then, maybe.

This time I definitely felt him. The energy shifted just as lightning struck the water below. The candles sputtered and sparked. The flames in the grate grew higher, sending a bead of sweat down the length of my spine.

His presence was growing stronger. I felt his eyes on me across the table.

“Do you ever show yourself?”

No.

“What if I asked nicely?” I clasped my hands below my chin.

For one moment, I thought how insane I must have looked sitting alone in an ancient castle in a dimly lit sitting room, speaking to the ghost of the dead man that used to live here.

I’d done some strange things for my books before, but never this.

This entire experience had quickly climbed to the top of the list of things I’d likely never do again.

“Come on, Wolfe. I know you want to,” I teased.

The oddest thing happened then.

The candle in front of me roared to life, extending nearly a foot from the tiny wick. I scrambled back, palms supporting my weight. The temperature in the room rose, nearly sweltering, and I saw it.

Rather, I saw him.

Through the orange of the flame, the hazy image of him was there. Strong shoulders, sharp jaw, unruly mop of hair, reddish-brown eyes that made it hard to breathe. His smile was soft, a barely-there curl of his lips. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking down, like he was hiding his smile.

“You’re real,” I croaked, fingers going numb.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Light flickered across his neck and jaw, freckles skipping down below the open collar of his shirt.

He was beautiful. Perfect. Like a dream that had slipped into being.

I crawled back to the table, leaning over the top of it.

“It’s you,” I breathed. “It’s really you.”

His eyes collided into mine, widening in alarm. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. I couldn’t think of anything worse than this. To be seen, but remain unheard.

“I can see you,” I said in disbelief. “You’re—”

Whatever I was about to say died in my throat, but he knew. His smirk was slow, almost feline.

This time when the paper marked with ‘yes’ moved, I inferred it as the question it was.

“Never mind that.” His brows rose, crinkles forming by his eyes. God, he was handsome. “How are you doing this? Is it the candles? The storm?”

He waved his hand as if to say, all of it. I nodded, filing the information away.

He turned his head, the outline of him going blurry. He looked to the door and frowned.

Too long, he mouthed.

“Too long, what? This?” I waved a finger between us.

When he nodded, I sighed. “All right. But—”