A Ghostly Menage
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by Eve Langlais
Category: Romance/Dark Fantasy
Description: Jenna, desperate for change, buys a repossessed home on a whim. The townsfolk claim it's haunted, but Jenna's pretty sure all it needs is some filler to stop the drafts. Before long, even she has to admit, there's more going on here than the vagaries of an old house. Can it be ghosts making her panties wet and her dreams hot? Derrick and Mark, werewolf twins, are stuck in their house as disembodied spirits, all because of an evil witch. When their fated mate suddenly becomes the new owner, they end up taking haunting to a whole new erotic level.
eBook Publisher: Cobblestone Press, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: March 2011
40 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [86 KB]
Reading time: 50-70 min.
Heart pumping...legs pounding... A joyful howl burst from his throat, an eerie sound echoed by his brother who raced alongside him through the woods that were their second home. The other night creatures scattered before their headlong flight. No one wished to get in the way of the two who ruled the forest.
All too soon, the edge of the trees rushed up to meet him and he skittered to a halt, his tongue lolling as he panted from exertion. He bayed one last time, sitting on his haunches, facing the bright, fat moon. When the last throaty sound faded, Derrick and his brother shifted back into human form, their annual Halloween run leaving them sweaty but exhilarated. Their clothes still lay on the ground where they'd shed them before their shift, and they dressed in companionable silence before crossing the open yard to their house.
On the porch, the candle in their jack-o-lantern had burned out, and the sweet smell of cooking pumpkin made his nose twitch. The bowl of candy they'd left on the porch was empty. Derrick smiled. He loved Halloween, and just because his inner wolf loved to come out and play didn't mean the kids shouldn't get their share of candy. And he always made sure he and his brother bought the primo stuff--full-sized chocolate bars. They never worried about their house getting egged or toilet papered.
His brother's body stilled. "There's someone here," said Mark, his hand on the knob of their front door.
Derrick's smile faded at his words. He sniffed the air. Over the odor of burnt pumpkin and outdoor autumn smells, he scented a familiar cloying perfume.
With a growl, he shoved his brother aside and flung open the front door they never kept locked. The smell filled the house, overwhelmingly so. She dared to come into our home without an invitation? The effrontery astounded him, and totally pissed him off.
Charging up the stairs, he followed the bitch's scent right into his bedroom. She squirmed under his sheets and smiled at him with heavy lids. The stench of her arousal as she pleasured herself drifted to him.
Derrick growled again and clenched his hands tightly at his sides lest he use them to throttle her.
"I've been waiting for you," Clarissa said seductively, not yet recognizing the storm that simmered inside him.
"Get out of my bed," he said through gritted teeth.
She rose with the sheet clutched to her bosom. "Join me. I've prepared myself for you and...your brother." Derrick heard Mark's sharply indrawn breath behind him.
"Fuck off." Derrick didn't like to mince words. That was his brother's forte.
"You don't mean that," said Clarissa, the sheet barely hiding her shapely body, a form that left him cold.
"What he means to say," said Mark, ever the diplomat, "is while you are quite attractive, we are unfortunately not interested. Thank you for your offer, though."
Derrick snorted. The slut had just broken into their house and thrown herself at them naked. And this after they'd repeatedly rebuffed her blatant overtures. She just didn't get it. She isn't the one.
"Just get your clothes back on, and leave the way you came." Or he'd gladly heave her ass out, preferably from the nearest window. Then he'd burn his sheets.
Clarissa dropped the sheet that hid her assets and proudly displayed perky breasts, an indented waist, and a bald cleft. Derrick looked her over dispassionately. She stirred nothing in him--he preferred his woman rounder, just like his brother. Their displeasure must have shown for she frowned at them. She tweaked her nipple and slid a hand between her thighs to toy with herself. They didn't respond. With slow, sensual steps, Clarissa walked towards Derrick and his brother, a half smile curving her lips, one that didn't match the icy fury in her eyes.
"I really wish you'd chosen differently," she said shaking her head at them like naughty children.
"Or what?" retorted Derrick, tired of her games.
A chill wind came up out of nowhere--in the house. However, All Hallows Eve was upon them, and even in these modern times, strange forces worked on this most arcane of nights as spiritual magic reached its peak.
Clarissa raised her hands, palms upward. Her lips moved in an almost inaudible prayer. The words slipped greasily past his hearing, discordant sounds that made him wince. A heavy stink of ozone permeated the air, electrical and tingling along his senses.
Mark's face creased with alarm. "She's casting a spell."
"I'd say that's obvious." Derrick rolled his eyes and decided to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. He reached for the witch who'd done an excellent job of hiding her true self up till now. Time to give her the bum rush.
"No!" cried his brother reaching for him.
Even as Mark grabbed his arm, Derrick's hand connected with Clarissa's and a lightning bolt of pain rushed through his system, making his eyes widen. The rush of power coursing through his body was excruciating and to his annoyance, he blacked out.
When Derrick regained consciousness in an ignoble heap on the floor, the witch stood over him with a smirk. "Ah, did I hurt the big bad wolf?" Her cajoling tone pissed him off.
"Bitch." He staggered to his feet and reached for her again. His hand passed through her, a strange sensation that made him shudder, and she cackled at the look on his face.
Derrick brought his hands to his face and looked at them--and through them. "What the fuck did you do to me?"
"To us?" said Mark who appeared at his side looking just as ghostly. Derrick didn't know what astounded him more--the fact the bitch had turned them into spirits or the fact his brother actually looked mad.
Clarissa smiled and twirled with a giggle, now fully dressed. "I've trapped you in limbo," she announced.
"What? So we're dead?"
"Not exactly. Think of it as suspended in time, your bodies that is, until such a time as you come to your senses and give me what I need."
"And what do you need?" asked Mark quietly, his tight tone the only thing that gave away his white-hot anger.
"Why, the both of you of course. Bonded to me." She clasped her hands in front of her when she said this, her blue eyes calculating and frigid.
"Never," snarled Derrick lunging at her again, only to convulse as he flew right through her body to land in a heap on the other side. Even freakier, his fingertips penetrated the floor. Derrick sat up, an unfamiliar emotion touching him, one he didn't like. Fear.
Mark reverted to type and asked questions. "Why do you want to bond to us? You know we don't love you, nor will we ever."
"Who said anything about love? This is about power. I'm a witch, and while I have magic, I need more. By bonding to an alpha pair of weres..." Her eyes glistened and she moistened her lips. "The energy I'd have access to would make me the strongest witch in my coven and allow me to challenge the old bat who thinks to give me orders."
Derrick saw red. How dare this sorceress think to use the mating bond to further her schemes? "Too bad, bitch. We aren't ever going to bond with you."
Mark nodded his head in agreement. "Your plan won't work, Clarissa. Now release us and we'll forget this ever happened."
Derrick rolled his eyes. Not likely. Woman or not, he'd rip her a new one as soon as they got out of this mess.
She seemed to read his mind. "Oh, please. You're alphas, you won't allow this to slide by. No, I have a better plan. You stay in limbo as ghosts, trapped to this house till you decide to do as I say. I figure it might take a few years of floating around, alone and invisible to all, before you come to your senses and do my bidding. That's okay," she said with a nasty smile. "I can wait."
Then she left. They followed her, Derrick cursing her every step, diving at her, hoping each time he lunged that he would connect. However, paying him no mind, she walked out of the house without hesitation. But not the brothers who hit the open doorway and bounced back. Derrick pounded his fists ineffectually against the invisible barrier--one he couldn't breach and that trapped he and Mark in their home.
Clarissa turned and blew them a kiss. "See you in a year, boys."
After a few days of raging and disbelief, they looked for an escape. They spent all that first year searching for a way out of the house, to no avail. They tried to communicate with the friends and family who trooped through their house, from the police chief of their town to their great aunt who sniffed the air as if she sensed them, but could not hear them no matter how they yelled. Even worse than their inability to escape, was the loss of their beasts. They couldn't shift, nor feel the comforting presence of their wolves. Instead, an emptiness lay within them.
But no matter how bleak their existence, year after year, when Clarissa showed up on All Hallows Eve, they refused to become her mates.
My brother and I will find a way to escape this curse, and when we do, that witch will rue the day she was born. And sour bitch or not, he'd taste her blood.
* * * *
Jenna drove her battered excuse for a car away from civilization, the towns getting smaller, the roads getting narrower, till she finally spotted the sign she'd been waiting for.
Twin Dales. Her new home and escape from the crap life had dished her. She drove through the main part of the small town. It had everything she needed for her new life, which wasn't much. Give me a grocery and hardware store, and I'm good.
She'd never even visited Twin Dales, population nine thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven--make that sixty-eight--when she decided on it as her new home. Small, away from the stupidity that came with city living, and best of all, half a continent away from the asshole she wanted to kill.
Cheating on me with not just one of my best friends, but two. Bastard! She'd toyed with the thought of sleeping with his two best friends--at the same time--to get him back, but unfortunately, she couldn't stand them. Besides, the sweeter revenge had come when she'd dumped all his shit out in the hall and told him to move. Not much he could do about it since the lease was in her name. Thank God, I didn't marry the jerk.
Now she wanted time to herself and to write her books. She'd looked online for a new place to live and had settled on the house in Twin Dales after seeing a few pictures and a video. She couldn't decide what had sealed the deal. Was it the wrap-around porch that begged for a bench swing? The turret that screamed library? Or its five wooded acres on the edge of town? She couldn't explain exactly how or why, but she fell in love with the place. And then, unlike her usual self, she'd acted like one of the heroines in her books and bought it on a whim, thanks to her inheritance from Grandma Bea.
Being the responsible sort, she hadn't touched the money all of her adult life, instead saving it for an emergency. And this was definitely an emergency. Besides, the price of the house was unbeatable and she had more than enough left over to renovate. Between that and her writing, she'd live comfortably--alone.
Men were nothing but trouble, and she'd had enough. From now on, she'd have relationships with the men in her books and in her head. At least they knew how to satisfy her, and when the urge for something to fill her up became too strong...well, that's what dildos were for.
Following the hand-drawn map the realtor had faxed, she made her way through the silent streets of town--eight p.m. and not a thing stirred. She drove through the winding darkness till she finally saw the sign for her street, Changeling Drive, which dead ended at her house.
Excitement gripped her, especially when she caught her first real glimpse of her new place. Even in the bright beams of her car the hundred-plus year-old house had an old-fashioned solidity and beauty that made her smile with pleasure.
The first thing she noticed when she stepped into the vacant house was the lack of dust. Had the realtor had it cleaned? He'd said it'd been vacant for almost six years, but everything--from dishes to furniture--looked great. In fact, it appeared as if the house was waiting for its previous owners to return. That thought gave her a bit of a chill, especially when she recalled the realtor's joke about it being haunted. At least she'd assumed it was a joke, but then the owners had disappeared and stopped paying their taxes, which was how the place had ended up at auction.
She shook her head. None of that mattered because this treasure was now hers.
The main floor boasted a large entranceway with a high ceiling to accommodate the staircase. On one side, she discovered a spacious living room replete with a fireplace and two brown plaid couches. She crossed the room and entered the turret. Obviously designed as a sitting area, it contained wicker furniture, which seemed incongruous given the previous owners had been men.
At the back of the living room, she went through an archway and found herself in an immense eat-in kitchen. Cupboards lined half the area in an L-shape. More space than she'd ever need in a lifetime. There was a gas stove and a huge fridge, which she opened and found, to her surprise, working. Nestled inside sat a basket of jars and fruit with a tag that read 'Welcome'.
How quaint. Jenna held in a giggle. She wondered if the neighbors would show up with casseroles and pies just like they did in the movies. Jenna bit her lip. She shouldn't make fun of her perceived notion of small town hospitality. If she wanted to fit in, and she did, she'd probably have to learn to make cookies or other baked goods so she could return the kindness.
A door led from the kitchen to the hall, and a second archway opened into the dining room. She walked through the dining room, which also had an access door back in the hall. She liked how all the rooms flowed into each other. Now for the second floor.
The wooden stairs curved up into the house with a gorgeous carved handrail. She ran her hand along the wood as she went up to check out the bedrooms. The first door led into a small room with a daybed and a nightstand. She went to the next door and found the bathroom tiled in white with a large claw foot tub. Jenna imagined herself immersed in bubbles to the brim reading a hot romance.
She continued exploring and found a fairly large room with a queen-sized bed and heavy wooden furniture scattered around; a pair of matching nightstands as well as two bureaus, one long, the other tall The size and decor made her think it was the master bedroom, until she checked out the last room, which sat above the living room and flowed into the turret.
She let out a cry of delight. The largest room in the house by a lot, a gorgeous four-poster bed took a place of pride in the center. The round turret section held a pair of wing chairs that looked out the windows into the woods that bordered three sides of the property. Jenna threw herself on the bare mattress, arms flung out. She shivered for it felt like she'd dove right into an icy cloud.
Rubbing her arms, she sat up. Cold drafts or not, this was her room and she couldn't wait to redecorate it.
Home sweet home.
* * * *
Mark stared at the woman who entered their home and wanted to howl with the injustice. Derrick had no such restraint and let out a cry of rage. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
Mark followed his brother as he rampaged through the house, his ghostly presence only barely rattling the loose items that decorated it. He quickly tired of his brother's antics, and returned to watch the newcomer. When Derrick finally calmed down, he joined Mark in scrutinizing the woman--their long-awaited mate.
He'd known it from the moment she'd walked into the house. Even without scent or touch, her very presence called to him and to Derrick. She was the one destined to be theirs. The one who would accept them and love them, bearing them the sons that would continue their line. That is if they could ever regain their solid bodies.
Just thinking about that made Mark want to go on a tantrum of his own, but he prided himself on having better control. He sat beside his brother on the stairs and watched the woman, whose name they had no way of knowing, as she made several trips in and out, bringing in boxes and bags.
She was perfect, from her short, rounded figure with a plump ass and a nice handful of tits to her long, dark hair that tickled the top of her waist. She had a face made for smiling with rosebud lips, lustrous brown eyes, and apple cheeks. Just the type of woman he and his brother preferred, and all they could do was watch helplessly as she moved into their house, untouchable.
She left most of the belongings in the front hall, but carried one large suitcase upstairs. As expected, she didn't react as she walked through them. But they sure as hell felt it.
Mark looked with interest at the items she'd left behind while Derrick bemoaned their dilemma.
"So unfair. I'm going to kill that witch."
"Uh-huh," Mark absently replied as he drifted looking through her belongs searching for her name. He found it on a faded tag on a carry-on bag. "Jenna. Jenna Fairbanks."
"Her name is Jenna."
"Great. That makes me feel so much better," grumbled Derrick.
Regardless of what Derrick said or thought, Mark actually did feel better. For the moment, their situation hadn't changed, but with Halloween fast approaching and their true mate in residence, perhaps the time had come for things to happen.
And when she settled down to sleep for the first time in their house, Mark did his best to rush things along.
* * * *
Jenna woke with the oddest sense of not being alone. She lay on the bed and held her breath, listening. She didn't hear a sound, and yet the pervasive sensation of someone watching would not disappear. Mentally slapping herself for being so imaginative, she got up and stretched her body. I'm home.
She set about unpacking, glad she'd left most of her old life behind. Selling all her furniture and various other items had been liberating. She'd brought only the things she couldn't bear to part with: photo albums, books, and, of course, her laptop.
Around noon, she'd finished putting everything away, and was more in love with the house than ever. She'd assumed she'd have to clean, but the lack of dust was nothing short of amazing.
And now she was starving. She'd eaten some of the fruit in the basket for breakfast, but she needed to hit the grocery store. She showered quickly in the claw foot tub, shivering at the occasional cold draft, and dressed. She grabbed her keys and purse then headed to town.
In the daylight, the shops looked quaintly old-fashioned with large window displays, hand-painted signs, and wide sidewalks in front of them. Jenna parked quickly, loving that she didn't have to circle the block waiting for someone to pull out.
The bakery was her first destination. She walked in to the scent of fresh bread, and her mouth watered.
A red-cheeked matron beamed at her from behind the counter. "Hello dearie, what are you looking for today?"
Jenna smiled back. "A loaf of bread and a few buns please. Oh, and do you have any banana muffins?"
"We do." The woman began wrapping Jenna's order. "Are you here on a visit?"
"No. I bought a house actually."
The matron regarded her with round eyes and an open mouth. "You bought the house?"
"If you mean the one on Changeling drive, then yes."
The shopkeeper handed Jenna her purchases and shook her head. "Good luck."
Jenna didn't make much of her reaction till it was echoed in every store she visited.
Only when she was driving back to the house did she give into laughter. Oh, that's too funny. They all really think the place is haunted. How absurd in this day and age that they believed in ghosts. Although, she thanked their superstition about drafts and creaky houses, else she wouldn't have gotten the house so cheaply. And she repeated that the rest of the day every time a cold spot made her shiver, and whenever she looked over her shoulder expecting to see eyes staring back at her.
I don't believe in ghosts, she told herself firmly before going to bed.
However, the townsfolk's gullibility must have been contagious for the house's quirks followed her into her dreams.