Alyssa sighed, the sound empty given the lack of air filtering through her shriveled lungs. Still, she sighed out of habit.
She envied Javier. It had been a very long time since she’d witnessed a sunset, but she could still picture the magnificence of the colors, could still remember how the very world seemed to stand still in that moment when light shone so pure and bright…until the night consumed it whole. But the memory dimmed with each passing year. A pang of sorrow swept through her. Such beauty wasn’t meant for her kind.
Alyssa blinked, realizing she still stared at Élan’s heart. She’d tranced out for a moment, but now, her gaze narrowed in on the organ. She lifted the jar and turned it around and around in her hands, scarcely believing what she saw. A fission of something very close to fear snaked up her spine. She didn’t like the sensation one bit.
If only it were a trick of the light or a product of an overly active imagination. She closed her eyes. Opened them again. No such luck. Against all reason, the heart that should be a lifeless, withered gray mass instead shone bright crimson. Its plump chambers pumped steadily, spurting blood into the jar. She watched in horror as the organ seemed to absorb the blood back into itself then spew it forth again. And again.
The jar fell from her hands and rolled onto the bed, teetering precariously near the edge. She scooped it up and set it back on the nightstand. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if the jar shattered on her wood floor.
“Careful, you broke my heart once. I don’t think I could bear it again.” The familiar voice broke the silence, making her jump. She spun around, eyes wide, stance stiff and poised for battle. Élan?
Alyssa blinked at the empty room. Where the hell was Javier? She must be hallucinating. Was this Javier’s doing? Had he drugged the girl he’d brought her to feed on the night before? She shook her head. No. Javier was one of the few vamps she called friend these days. He wouldn’t hurt her. Would he?
The temperature in the room suddenly took a sharp dive. She would have shivered were she still affected by such things as cold. A curious expectancy weighted the air, and she suddenly knew without a doubt she wasn’t alone.
A gust of wind blew through the room and danced over her skin, scattering a bedside magazine and lifting the loose papers and mail on the dresser. The items fluttered to the floor like confetti. The scent of spice and sandalwood settled around her like a veil. A virile, masculine scent. One that fit its wearer completely. She’d know that scent anywhere.
“Élan?” she whispered.
Behind her, a presence stepped close, and she could swear a man pressed his chest against her back and rested his chin atop her head.
“Élan?” she whispered again. No response. Conflicting desires vied for dominance. Anger. Relief. Fear. Desire. She wanted to believe she was hallucinating. She wanted just as much to believe Élan was really there with her. Holding her.
She startled at the sudden weight around her waist. She glanced down and saw only the fabric of her red tunic. She reached down and her palms touched what felt like hands. She lifted her hands above her head and behind, and gasped when she cupped a hard pocket of air the shape of a man’s jaw.
The invisible hands at her mid-section moved upward, feather light, caressing, teasing, and then cupping her breasts. She stiffened.
“Relax. It is me.” A whisper of a kiss against her neck. The dart of a ghostly tongue at her ear. Her shiver had nothing to do with the cold.
She tried to spin around, although she knew she’d find only empty air where Élan should be, but Élan’s hold tightened.
“How can you be a ghost? You have no soul. You died long ago.”
“Did you not see my heart? The one that beats so beautifully in that ugly, confining little jar? I’m alive.”
“You can’t be both dead and alive at the same time, Élan.”
“Can’t I?” A mouth closed over her earlobe, tugging, tasting. Oh – not the ears. He knew how much she liked that. Her limbs quivered and a jolt of need shot through her. Damn him. Her body remembered his touch.
Alyssa tried to force her suddenly muddled mind to focus. “If you’re truly alive then I should smash that jar and stomp your insufferable heart into pulp.”
Élan didn’t react to her cruel words. He merely planted more kisses along her neck, his hands moving again, downward this time.
“Sweet Alyssa,” he murmured during a pause in kisses, “I know you wouldn’t do such a thing. You were coming to rescue me, were you not?”
She frowned. “How did you know that?” She grabbed the invisible hands and with a surge of strength, pried them from her body. She spun around and backed away from the space where Élan’s spirit hovered. Her body protested, a sharp ache spiking through her most intimate of places. She pointedly ignored the sensation and glared into the empty space in front of her.
“Enough with the games. Where’s your body, Élan? What exactly are you now? And what happened with Aphrodite?”
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