Page 41 of His to Haunt

Zand thinks he owns me, just like everyone else in his rotten mansion. But he is my forbidden weakness. I know I should stop this unhealthy obsession. -R

Last night, the phantom came again, watching me undress, always watching as if I were his to haunt.

There is no escaping him. This time, I felt not just a caress but his mouth firmly on my breast, his tongue lapping my nipples, making me hot and wet with need, his hand pressing into my sex, fingers thrusting inside me over and over until I moaned in pleasure. Then he vanished like always into thin air. He’s getting stronger. -R

Muse

Zand

Ibring in the package from the post office, aptly labeled “refrigerate upon receipt.” Zoe’s new job has supplied me with many blood samples. But are any of them RHN? As always, I’m doubtful. It is the rarest and least known blood type in existence, the most precious of an ancient bloodline. Hence the nickname, Gold Blood.

But the testing can wait just as long as I have it tallied before the lodge gathering. Currently, I have a more personal deadline looming.

It’s time to finish from memory the sketch of Leena’s lines—since I mostly focused on the face when she was here—readying to paint her when she returns, which had better be tonight. Our last sitting left me wanting more. She was a decent model, and she remained sober.

I think she might be a good girl…do what she’s told.

I pull out an old sketch of Rachel, comparing the two half-sisters who must take after their Mother. Rachel does not favor my late Uncle. Nor Leena, her father, who I had the misfortune of looking into after he called here threatening her. I would haveenjoyed beating his ass into the ground if he had dared come here.

I place the portraits side by side, Leena’s in pencil and Rachel’s in color. First, the similarities. Both have long brownish hair with pale skin and full lips. Both have that compelling twinkle in their pupils, a spark that emits energy like a tiny sun with a glittering core. Eyes that smile and make others smile.

I recall that spark in Rachel’s eyes extinguishing, dully flatlining like certain Byrons before her—but I won’t think about that now.

Now for the differences. Leena’s nose is a bit more steeply sloped, her cheekbones rising slightly higher and wider. Her eyebrow line is gently arched and thinner over her large, almond-shaped eyes. Long, curling brown lashes.

Where Rachel’s mouth is rather typical, classically shaped, Leena’s is oddly striking. Her lips reach a defined double arch that distinctly dips just at the center of the sloping philtrum, that little valley leading up to her ski-jump nose. Her mouth is shaped like a petulant heart, smashed into a pout. Again, the word neglected comes to mind—a Valentine’s candy to be sucked, savored, and bitten.

My phone rings, and I ignore it at first. When it rings again, I finally check it. Ayton. Devika’s assistant. Shit.

My jaw tenses as I run my hand through my hair. Might as well get it over with. I click the phone on speaker, clearing my throat.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Ayton?”

“Greetings, Mr. Byron. I’m calling to confirm that you will be in attendance at the quarterly lodge gathering on Friday night. The grand mistress requests your presence.”

Fuck. I’d nearly forgotten. I sigh, putting down my pencil.

“Yes, of course, I will be there.”

I was tempted to tell her no, but regardless of my height on the ladder, my allegiance is expected, and skipping out on the quarterlies would result in a follow-up call and perhaps being paid a house visit by Templar, in addition to being fined. Of course, I may have the fine waived in my position, but there is no avoiding a visit from the grand master if it’s deemed necessary.

Considering the recent uptick in mob retaliations…Templar seeking me out for private consultation is certainly a possibility if I don’t show my face at the gathering.

Now would not be a good time for a visit. The girl and her mother would be in danger far more than the measly threat of those groupies they brought back from CC. Stupid girls.

If more were to disappear under the roof so soon after my cousin, it would create a regional media scandal. The Moonvine Serial Killer strikes again! and The Doomed Fates of the Women of Moonvine Manor blah.

Besides, I have uses for Leena at present. I need her as part of a series that will extend beyond the upcoming gallery, which will serve as an introduction to a forthcoming set. Not sure how many, maybe a trio.

At least, for the time it takes to paint her, she will be safe as my fixation, my muse.

Haunted

Leena

He’s out for my blood.

Is this another prediction of her fate?

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