“We’re following a ghost, and you’re worried about a velvet rope?”
“Good point.”
We go on. The staircase is dark, but the faint outline of the highwayman up ahead doesn’t falter. Maybe ghosts are like cats, they can see in the dark. Shaking my head at the ridiculous thought, I take my phone from my pocket and shine the flashlight ahead of us. The highwayman doesn’t react, doesn’t turn or slow. His determination is perfect. He has a destination in mind. We reach the top of the staircase and I shine the flashlight around to reveal a wide landing. Out of the windows, the moon illuminates the turning circle and grounds below. The highwayman goes over to an open door, then turns and looks right at us. I get that feeling in my chest again, a jolt of electricity like heat and ice at once. He beckons. In the glow of the moon, his blue eyes seem to flash. Then he whips around and disappears into the room.
I’m guessing a bedroom.
I turn to look at Rick. “He wants us to join him,” I say.
“Looks like it.” Rick grins nervously, his teeth showing white in the moonlight. “You want to?
“Doyouwant to?”
The draw of the highwayman is strong. Likereallystrong. It feels like he’s pulling at something deep in my chest, a primal urge. But I’ve only just started to feel like there could be something real between me and Rick. I don’t want to messit up. He’s gazing at the doorway where the highwayman just disappeared. His lips are slightly parted. His breath comes quick and light; I can hear it in the deep, velvety silence of the landing.
“I’m game if you are,” he says.
Chapter 7
Hand in hand, we creep over to the door. I peer inside first, hardly able to believe my daring. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this isn’t it. The room isn’t dark or creepy. It feels warm and lived in. There’s a fire in the grate, and an old-fashioned oil lamp burning on a table. A large four-poster bed stands against the far wall, and a writing table faces the window. The faint scent of woodsmoke fills the air. The highwayman is sitting in a chair, staring into the fire. I tap lightly at the door.
“Enter,” he says.
His voice is deep and growly, and hits me right in the guts. My poor teased cock, which has been waiting patiently all day, perks up. His accent sounds funny, a little like Frankie’s but much more old-school.It’s because he’s from the 1700s, my mind whispers even as my intellect argues that it’s impossible. Rick and I step inside the room. The highwayman stands up to face us. He’s not too tall, just a little bigger than me and much shorter than Rick. But he holds himself like an imposing figure. Probably considers himself a tall man.Because everyone was shorter back then. Under his coat he seems lean and strong. Ican’t take my eyes off his black boots as he approaches with a slow, almost mocking stride.
“Well, what have we here?” he says.
“I’m Arden and this is Rick.”
I swallow as he transfers his gaze to me. His eyes are so sharp, piercing me to the core.
“And what are you two supposed to be?” he says.
“A demon and a vampire,” I say. He should know what a demon is, but I’m not sure when the cloaked, fanged image of the vampire entered public consciousness.
“Indeed? Well, you both look absolutely stunning.” He gives us a dashing bow, hitting us with those old-time manners. Rick laughs nervously while I just stare, enthralled.
“I have been sorely starved of company,” the highwayman says. His firm gaze falters. Then he smiles, his first smile, and his eyes are bright again. “But you’re here now.”
“We’re here,” I say. Something makes me desperate to comfort him, to give him connection.
“Pray tell me, what’s this?” he says.
He points to my neck. I feel around and find that my pink collar is showing. In our quick descent up the stairs, my cloak must’ve moved.
“Oh, this… it’s a game Rick and I have been playing,” I say. “I have to follow his orders for forty-eight hours.”
Where am I getting the courage to be so open about this? The guy is from the1700s. He’s going to be shocked for sure. But he breaks into another smile, warm and wicked this time.
“And what has he made you do?” he says.
“I… pleasured him. I was willing,” I add quickly.
“He really was,” Rick says, sounding defensive.
Is he a little afraid of the highwayman? Despite his powerful gaze that seems strong enough to crack through rock and the factthat he’s an honest to goodnessghost, for some reason I’m not afraid of him at all.
“But he has held the reins of power?” the highwayman says to me, pointing to Rick.
