Would a dancer have made enough to afford this place?
Hell, with her sensuality and complete lack of inhibitions, she could have been a courtesan.
She'd have made a fortune.
Whoever this Néomi had been in life, she was now dead. Was he sick to desire a woman's ghost so much? Over the past two days, he'd envisioned her nude form again and again. He might not have been hard for her before, but he'd wanted to be.
He was sick. Not only mad, but sick.
If Conrad was wise, he'd crush this growing obsession with the ghost and get on with his business, with his escape.
He was driven; he wouldn't be sidetracked because he couldn't stop recalling how she'd arched those pale breasts right to his hands.
At twilight, the last of the sun's rays painted the bayou in hazy hues. Along the cypress-cluttered banks, moss dripped from limbs. A rickety folly persisted near the water's edge.
Decades ago, this little inlet of Elancourt's had been navigable, but over the years, debris and grasses had choked the cove until the area looked more like a swamp.
Wildlife teemed. Snakes, alligators, and mink made their home here. Nutrias—large, aquatic rodents— frolicked among the lily pads, flashing their orange teeth.
This was one of Néomi's favorite spots on the property. She'd spent the entire day on the bank, crouched at the edge of the water, watching tadpoles growing limbs.
It was the best she could come up with to occupy her so she wouldn't return to the vampire's room.
'Stay away from me,' he'd warned. Bonne idée, Néomi had decided.
Because she was attracted to him. Softened by the knowledge of his heroism in the past—and awed by the sight of his naked body—she'd begun feeling a strong pull toward him. Their interaction had been heady and addictive for Néomi. Even his fearsome bellowing hadn't dampened it.
And it would only get worse.
So what would happen when he left? Again, she'd be all alone in her empty house, enduring her empty life. With no mad but sexy vampire to distract her from her existence.
For someone as sociable as Néomi, getting used to the loneliness and the interminable days after her death had been grueling; it was even more devastating when the tenants left.
They always left.
Conrad Wroth will, too.
The idea so depressed her, she'd vowed to stay away from them all. I'd best not get accustomed to them being around.
Her battle to stay away this long had taken all her willpower, but she didn't foresee a victory this eve. Soon the sliver moon would rise like a pale rip in the fabric of the sky, and she was feeling vulnerable, as she always did.
Néomi had told Conrad that she felt nothing, which wasn't entirely true. When she danced at midnight, she would feel the pain of her death, that agony relived.
I don't want to be alone. Not tonight...
At twilight, she found herself making her way to him as if pulled by an invisible string. When she hesitated just outside his door, he said, 'Ghost, come to me!'
Enjoy the interaction, she commanded herself. Just don't get used to it!
'I know you're there.' His voice sounded weary. 'Are you frightened of me now?'
She'd never forget the terrifying sound he'd made, the aggressive growl that threatened pain, a sharp reminder of what he was. But she wasn't afraid of him.
She bit her lip. When I go inside, I won't find him as handsome as I've been thinking. She floated through the closed door and immediately glared. No, he was more handsome. Très beau.
Why was he so appealing to her? She'd always favored older men, established in their lives, with some of their fire already subdued by life's trials.
Conrad was all fire... . A beautiful madman.
'Where the fuck have you been?' he immediately snapped. His red eyes flickered over her face, her breasts, down her body and up again with a greedy gaze, surveying her as men had before she'd died.
How was she going to go another eighty years without smoldering looks like that?
Unaffected by his tone, she said, 'Did you miss me?' Her demeanor was breezy. He'd never know about her struggle to remain away. 'Should I have been here instead?'
'You'd come every day before,' he said gruffly.
'You warned me away, remember? And then you bellowed at me like some rabid bear.'
'Rabid bear? I didn't want my brothers to see you unclothed.'
'Conrad, they couldn't see me at all.'
He scowled. 'I didn't... recall that! Not at the time. Sometimes, it's difficult for me... ' He trailed off, then added, 'Damn it, I'd just had a shot.'
Unwelcome sympathy for him bloomed inside her—again. She wondered what it would take for him to actually rattle her unwavering attraction. 'Why would you care if they saw me naked?'
He looked away and muttered, 'I wish I knew.'
Néomi stifled a smile. He was becoming as attracted to her as she was to him.
'What were you doing outside the house earlier?' He sounded accusatory.
'How did you know I was outside?'
'Didn't hear you all day.'
She frowned. 'Do you ever sleep?'
'Not if I can help it.'
Néomi had noticed that he only slept about three or four hours in a twenty-four hour period. 'And you never sleep at regular intervals. I can't see a pattern.'
'Then no one else can either,' he said, but before she could question his words, he said, 'Now, tell me what you were doing.'
'If you must know—I was studying tadpoles. I've decided to determine how long it takes their legs to grow. To the minute.'
'Tadpoles. Why would you do this?'
'Give me an alternative, Conrad. What should I do?'
He was clearly at a loss.
'The one newspaper I was able to snare on the drive has been read. The house is empty of insatiable newlyweds or teenage thrill seekers with spray-paint cans, so I've no one to ogle or to frighten away. But I'm here now, so what did you want?'
Seeming not to know what to say for several moments, he opened and closed his mouth twice.
'Nothing?' she asked airily, waving him away. 'Very well, have a good—'
'Stay!' he bit out. 'I want you to stay.'
'Why? Because you find me more stimulating than watching the paint peeling above the bed?'
He shook his head. 'Want to talk to you.'
With her chin up, she nonchalantly crossed to the window seat and floated atop it. 'Perhaps I'll stay if you agree to answer some of my questions.'
'Like what?'
'I overhear your brothers talking, but a lot of times, I have no idea what they mean. You could explain some things.'
As though put out, he gave a short nod.
'What do they mean about your memories?'
'If a vampire takes blood straight from the vein, it's live, laden with a lifetime of memories. The memories have accumulated, until I can't control them. I can't tell them from my own.'
'Every night Murdoch returns with more information about you. He said you have all kinds of people who want you dead.'
'True.'
