Page 159 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"Logan! Logan!" I called. "Are you okay?"
The body under me opened its mouth, and a raspy whisper floated to my ear. "Are you stupid? Of course not."
I rolled him back and squealed.
"I'm me again," he said. As weak as his body had become, for a moment Logan's face looked positively radiant.
Come Daylight
Sneaking Logan back into his room at the hospital was easier than you might think. Nightshift nurses are woefully overworked and aside from a cheery hello from the unit secretary, no one questioned us about why Logan was missing for so long. The hardest part was bringing him into the hospital without going through Emergency. We ended up rolling him through a service entrance.
Michelle and I did allow ourselves one tiny pleasure before going home for the night. We waited in an empty room next door to Logan's for his nurse to do her assessment. The wail of joy she emitted when he opened his eyes was priceless. We climbed on the elevator smiling. We'd just created a medical miracle.
"It's been quite a night, Grateful," Michelle said.
"Yes, it has. Did you ever think we'd be up to our armpits in magic and immortals?"
"Only on Halloween."
We laughed.
"Seriously girl, you know your life just got a hell of a lot more complicated," Michelle said.
"Why? My attic is free of ghosts, I have a boyfriend-sort of, and I think I'm handling this witch thing pretty well."
"Logan is alive and has a body. When you say you have a 'boyfriend-sort of,' are you talking about Rick or Logan? Judging by what you've told me, you're attracted to both."
"I'm with Rick. It's practically part of my job description."
"A relationship shouldn't be a job. Can you honestly admit that you don't feel a connection to Logan?"
I couldn't lie to Michelle, so I remained silent. Lucky for me, the doors opened, and I escaped into the hospital atrium.
Michelle didn't let it drop. "Mmmm-hmmm. I thought so. Your offer to help Logan recover was your subconscious way of maintaining a connection to him. You weren't ready to say goodbye, not really."
Thank you, mental health nurse, for that unsolicited diagnosis. "Is it wrong to not be sure? I'm not married to Rick, after all."
"It's not wrong, as long as you're honest about where things stand with both of them. Does Rick know how you feel?"
I stared at my coupled hands.
She gave me a hug and headed for her car.
I said a silent prayer that Manny wouldn't give her a hard time about being so late again.
The ride home was the perfect time to think about the last week and the way my life had changed. I hadn't agreed to marry Rick, but making love to him was a life-altering decision. It meant that I accepted my role as the Monk's Hill witch and believed I'd lived before as Rick's wife. It was a commitment to Rick, even if there wasn't a license involved. But I couldn't deny what Michelle said. Logan and I had a connection that was forged in this lifetime. As much as I thought I could love Rick, I didn't think he was in love with the real me. It was much more likely that he was in love with a memory.
I pulled into his driveway, resolved to set Rick straight. With the number of disastrous relationships I'd left in my wake, it was important for Rick to understand what he was getting himself into, that I couldn't promise him monogamy. Prudence had said that he needed to feed on me. I wasn't sure how that worked. What if my noncommittal heart altered the amount of energy I could give him? Honesty was the best policy.
Dawn lurked on the horizon. The night's icy fingers slid from my ribs, darkness lifting from my skin, scurrying from the impending sunrise. This was a new skill, a magical thing. I'd been a witch for all of forty-eight hours, and already I was changing, my cells tuning in to the force of things around me. Suddenly, I missed Prudence and wished I'd asked more questions while she was with me.
I rapped on the wood door to Rick's stone cottage. The wind chimes tinkled softly in the gentle breeze, and the smell of herbs wafted through the waning dark. The door opened, and light filtered around Rick's body. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only loose, straight-legged pants that hung low on his hips. Maybe he'd just shifted back. Was it a dangerous night? How many undead had he sent back to the underworld?
In the shadow of his sexy silhouette, all I could squeeze out of my mouth was, "Hello."
He didn't answer my salutation. My feet left the stone slab and I was whirled inside, his mouth finding mine under the arch of the doorway. The kiss was hard and wanting as if he were trying to drink me in. I concentrated on our connection. He was weak. He needed me.
I wrapped my legs around his waist. He planted my back against the wall and ground his hips into me, trailing his nose up my neck. The pounding of his heart came through our connection, quickening my pulse. I rode waves of palpable desire, a decadent ache blossoming deep within me, begging to be soothed. He was the only medicine for my malady.
