9781618850607ForeverNightDayNC Read online

  “I didn’t think it was that important. Besides, I don’t believe in all that silly stuff. It’s nothing more than a local legend to keep the kids away from the property. It’s just a house. A rather old house that has its own little quirks.”

  “I’ve had things happen here. You said this house has a history. I want to know what that is.”

  The woman sighed. “I can only tell you what I know. It could all just be hearsay. Augustine LaMount built the house for his wife just after they were married. They went on to have two children before the First World War. He enlisted like any good man, and went off to fight.” She stopped, and Carrie Ann wondered if she was still on the line.

  “Mrs. Bonnie? Are you still there?” She heard static, and then nothing until it cleared.

  “Yes, I’m here. It must be a bad connection. Anyway, he never came home from the war. He wasn’t listed as being killed in action, and they never found a body. He simply disappeared without a trace.”

  “But a man just doesn’t up and disappear. That’s impossible. Someone had to know what happened to him.”

  “I know. Folks from that time who knew him and the family said they couldn’t ever imagine him leaving his wife and two kids like that. He wasn’t that type of man. He was a real family type, apparently. His wife, Maribeth, eventually moved out of the house with the kids, and went to live with relatives. End of story.”

  Carrie Ann felt sad upon hearing this. “Anything else?” She hoped there wasn’t.

  “That’s about it. People have reported feeling ‘off’ inside the house. The owners just before you couldn’t bear the place. I admit, at times when I went out there by myself, I felt like I was being watched.”

  “Thank you,” she said, before hanging up. She knew exactly how Mrs. Bonnie felt.

  * * * *

  The war. That’s when his life changed, and Augustine LaMount ceased to be.

  He wasn’t a bad man.

  His fate had been sealed when he’d tried to run away. He became a deserter during the war, fearing it was better to leave than to fight, to end up slaughtered like so many of his fellow comrades engaged in battle on the front line.

  He ran through the forest looking for cover and a place to hide before they spotted him.

  Surrounded in darkness, he could hear the fighting raging on. Bombs were being dropped, the sky flashing with light as they exploded.

  He stumbled, and hit his shin on what he thought was a rock.

  “Here.” It was a woman’s voice. She emerged from behind a large tree, her hand held out to him, beckoning him to follow her. “I can offer you shelter,” she explained, as they moved deeper into the woods. “They won’t find you all the way out here. I promise.”

  He was more than willing to do anything not to have to go back. Maribeth and the children needed him. His place was with them. He said nothing and only nodded.

  They emerged in a clearing, and ahead he spotted what looked like a small log hewn cabin.

  The woman pointed toward it. “In there before they spot you.”

  The thought that they might be following him terrified him. He nodded again, and they both ran toward the lone, rustic refuge.

  “You live here?” he asked, stepping inside. It looked like it hadn’t been inhabited in a long time. Cobwebs and layers of dust coated everything in his vicinity. When the fireplace suddenly burst with flames, he jumped with surprise.

  She faced away from him, her shoulders slouched forward, her head down. “I have lived here for a very long time,” she explained.

  Something wasn’t right, and his mind screamed for him to run, to leave this place. His feet, however, had frozen steadfastly in place.

  When she turned, he noticed her pale skin and glowing green eyes.

  “What are you?” he asked. All other words failed him.

  “I’m a woman who lives alone in this cabin in the forest.” A wry grin crossed her lips. She mocked him.

  He shook his head in disgust. “You’re no woman.” When she stepped toward him, one hand shot up in an attempt to keep her away from his person. “Stay away. Don’t come any closer,” he warned.

  She laughed, tossing her head back to reveal a sharp row of teeth like he’d never seen before.

  “Jesus,” he muttered.

  “He isn’t here,” she snapped, grabbing his arm. “Pray if you like, but I don’t think he will hear you. God doesn’t answer anyone’s prayers here. Not for the likes of me.”

  She smelled of roses, death, and of the mossy woods surrounding the cabin. He tried to recoil from her, but to no avail. He felt like a fly trapped in a spider’s web.

  She leaned in close to him, her cool breath caressing his ear. “I’ve waited so long for you…for anyone to venture into these woods. Most know better, they stay out of this stretch of wilderness. They’ve heard the stories about me, the legend. They stay away. But it’s lonely here. How am I to occupy myself?” She pouted.

  He said nothing.

  “You will stay. You have no choice, and all will be well again.”

  “I—I have a wife and family,” he stammered. “They need me. I need them.”

  “I need you,” she snapped, cutting him off. In a flash she was on him. They tumbled together to the floor in a heap.

  Pain tore through him, and then his world went dark. He was dying.

  When he awoke, he realized he was no longer in the cabin. He was home.

  “Maribeth?” called Augustine, sliding from the bed. “Maribeth?” Joy flooded him at being home again. Whatever happened in those woods now felt like a bad dream.

  He stepped into the hallway, and walked into each room before heading downstairs, calling her name. Maribeth.

  The house was empty. Dust covers lay over the furniture. Where had they gone?

  He headed back to the front door and opened it. Blackness. He stared into the void in disbelief. Beyond the door there was nothing. He slammed the door and headed to the back of the house, racing through the kitchen to try the back door. It was the same. Augustine ran up the stairs. There had to be a way out. A window?

  Back in the bedroom, he tried each one. They revealed the same nothingness once they were opened. Trapped!

  Chapter Three

  It was all so silly. She was losing her mind. That was the easiest explanation. Carrie Ann kept telling herself that none of it was real. And by nightfall, she felt much calmer.

  At ten she climbed into bed, again half drunk on wine that she’d continued to drink well past dinner.

  When eleven rolled around, she turned off the bedside lamp with every intention of sleeping.

  At twelve, she heard a noise. Her ears perked up, and through the darkness she spotted a tall figure standing at the end of her bed. Carrie Ann tried to scream. She opened her mouth and sucked in, but nothing came out.

  The room was cold. Goose bumps prickled her skin, and her hair felt as if it was standing on end. The figure moved toward her. He was real.

  “Don’t be afraid.” His voice soothed her instantly as he spoke. She felt better, more relaxed.

  “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” she asked, her voice low, still shaking a little.

  “Your house?” He looked amused. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands folded in his lap just like in the painting downstairs over the fireplace. But it couldn’t be the man from the portrait. “This is my house, and has been for a very long time.” He reached out and traced one cold finger across her cheek. “I’m real. Touch me. Feel me.”

  She tried but couldn’t bring herself to do it. But when he took her hand and guided it to his face, she let him.

  “Come to me, my darling,” he said. “I have waited so long for you to come back to me. This is your place. You belong here with me.”

  Confusion clouded her mind. He was so handsome and bewitching. She sat up straighter in bed, and curled her arms around him in a tight embrace.

  His hand held her waist. He pulled back just
a little to give her the slightest smile. “You’re trembling. You have no reason to fear me. No harm will ever come to you. I’ve been waiting for you…wanting you.”

  She nodded. “Yes.” She wanted him too.

  “Perhaps a kiss will remedy your uneasiness?”

  She opened to him, her lips seeking his as they found hers. She touched him, slipping her hands beneath his white cotton shirt. Her fingers connected with firm muscle.

  In a blurred flash of movement he was on top of her. His hands cupped her breasts as her chest heaved up and down, her nipples hard and erect. He manipulated them. “Oh God,” she said, her tone begging for more. A hand slid between her legs, and in less than a second, they connected. She wanted him, badly.

  “Nice. Very nice,” he said, his lips tracing across her neck, his fingers toying with her pussy. “It’s been far, far too long.”

  He was naked. How and when, she didn’t know. He ground against her hip, his cock erect, skin against skin.

  Carrie Ann spread her legs wider. She needed him inside her, fucking her. She needed this…ghost of a man. But he was real. The pleasure he was giving her was real. And as he kissed her, she tasted him upon her lips, and inhaled his musky, masculine scent.

  Her head spun with hot passionate desire. “Fuck me,” she demanded. “I want you inside me now.” She was taken aback by her own spoken words, caught up in the moment where all that mattered was this mysterious, dark lover about to fuck her.

  He moved inside her. His cock spread her slick lips causing her to tighten around his shaft. She held him, milking his hot cock.

  “So tight and warm,” he said. His voice was low, and smooth like velvet. He caressed her face, his fingers running across her forehead settling into her hair. “Luscious and perfect, my darling.”

  Deep within her groin, Carrie Ann felt the pressure build. It was only a matter of minutes before she’d explode around him. With every thrust, he hit her hot spot.

  They moved together as one, limbs entwined, their bodies dancing together. Heat, flames, desire and mystery, that and more carried her into the open arms of unabashed ecstasy.

  “My love, my wife,” he said, flooding her just as she felt her orgasm sluice through her.

  Wife? Maribeth?

  Then she felt his teeth and that pain again. She opened her mouth to scream pushing at him, her fingernails tearing into him.

  He pulled back, away from her neck and she smelled that hot metallic scent of blood, her blood. “Maribeth, don’t fight it. Now we’ll be together forever. Not even death will separate us.”

  Carrie Ann laid in the dark for a long time, not moving or breathing.

  Augustine winced with guilt at what he’d done. But there was no other way. It had to happen like this.

  She had known nothing when she’d first arrived at the house. How could she? Yet she was drawn to the house because of him.

  She was Maribeth, or the essence of Maribeth—the soul as most would call it.

  He loved her so much. He craved her. He couldn’t be without her. Now she was his, forever. She would stay with him and dwell within these walls, until the end of time. End of story.

  * * * *

  She loved him. She knew she should not, but she did.

  Everything made sense now—the way she felt about the house and how she had connected with him through the portrait, and even that first time she had felt his presence.

  The house had a history and now she was part of it. This was their home.

  Carrie Ann looked out the window from their bedroom. Augustine’s arms held her close to him. “They’ll come,” he whispered, as they both watched Mrs. Bonnie place another “For Sale” sign on the gate leading up to the house.

  She felt Maribeth inside her. That was their connection.

  “What will happen?” she asked. “What will happen when more of them come?”

  “Most won’t stay. And if they do, we can make them go away. It isn’t that hard to do.” He grinned, and squeezed her. “Don’t worry about anything. You are safe here with me. Nothing in this world can harm us anymore.”

  “I have another question.” She turned from the window, and looked up into his eyes. “What are we?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure how to answer that. I don’t entirely know myself.”

  “Are we ghosts…vampires?” She felt silly just saying those two words, but it needed to be asked. “And why are we trapped here, in this house?”

  He shrugged again, taking on a serious look. “I don’t know the answers. It just happened that way, and we may never know. For now let’s be content, and know that I will always love you. You are my heart, my everything, forever.”

  She smiled. She was content. She was loved.

  Forever.

  *THE END*

  About The Author

  Xondra Day is a multi-published author of both romantic and erotic fiction. She resides in eastern Canada with her husband who is also an author, along with one spoiled cat, Charlie.

  Secret Cravings Publishing

  www.secretcravingspublishing.com