To save her ghost-hunting career, psychic Kayde Foster must confront an evil and darkly attractive entity that has taken up residence in her uncle's business.
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Kayde prides herself on being fearless. Ghosts? Crumbling buildings? Scary legends? No...
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Okay, so, maybe I have lost my mind.
Would that be news to anyone? Maybe it was stress taking the wheel for me in my decision-making, or maybe it was just desperation. Either way, it wasn't like I knew he was busy maiming someone.
The smell of ghost blood nearly singed my inner nose hairs off. It was god-awful. It was terrible.
Before I could lead the Shadow outside, a warm, hard-as-iron arm snared around my waist. My feet left the floor. Chagrin, strong and hot, seared the tips of my ears as I let out a grunt through clenched teeth. The world whooshed around me like I was on a slide. I became weightless and angry.
Did he just... snatch me?
Who did he think he was?
"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?" I shouted, kicking. "Put me down!"
How the hell was this supposed to work—me distracting him away from his spirit item—if he wouldn't let me go? My throat closed in with panic, because this was not how this was supposed to happen.
My next gasp was flooded with the scent of incense and I shivered. Warm and crisp. Why in the world did this beast of a creature have to smell so good?
It wasn't right.
I wanted to pull his hair out, but the beast was too strong for me to twist my body to do so. He had stopped for a moment, but my brain was sluggish and I couldn't tell where we were. Bright lights blurred my vision. Blood rushed to my head.
I might throw up.
"Don't get pissy with me, little hummingbird. I'm only saving you from yourself. And what business do I have doing that?" He scoffed as if the mere thought offended him. "None. Stop thrashing."
I was somehow hanging upside down, but I managed to snap out, "If you have no business doing it, then why are you even doing it?"
He only growled.
The world tilted again and wind whipped my hair. My belly did an uneasy flop as I was hoisted over his shoulder and he... ran?
No, that wasn't right.
Flew wasn't right, either, but it was clear he could move fast with minimal effort. My weight seemed to matter nothing. He could easily end this and snap my neck if he wanted to. Something about that though made me panic.
I pounded my fists on his back. Each hard thwack to his muscled shoulders made me more determined, more angry, and a heck of a lot more tired. It was like punching concrete. My arms burned.
It was then that I realized my heated, flushed skin was being caressed with the cool whisper of silk.
