“You were thinking about vampires,” Ronan said, appearing suddenly behind her.
She whirled to face him, holding fast to her spoon and dessert. “How do you know that?”
“A lucky guess.”
“You’re lying.” She thumped her hand still holding the empty spoon against her chest. “Yep, you’re lying. I can tell. It wasn’t a lucky guess.”
He remained silent.
She stared at his mouth, wondering what lie he would fabricate next. Then she wondered how he’d learned to kiss so incredibly well. Was that a talent he’d had as a human or one he’d learned as a vampire? Had he had a lot of women before and after? Where had he learned those tongue moves?
“I don’t kiss and tell,” he said.
Shit. He really could read her mind!
“Stop doing that,” she said. “Stop reading my mind. Or I won’t help you.”
His expression instantly darkened. “Don’t threaten me.”
“Then don’t invade my mind.”
He ducked as a plate flew from the cabinet at his head. “Tell your ghost to stop doing that.” He grabbed it before it fell onto the floor.
“She’s not my ghost.”
“Why does she keep trying to decapitate me with dinnerware?”
“She wants me to focus on helping her before she’ll help us.”
“Maybe we don’t need her help. Maybe you can reach my sister another way.”
“Hmmm.” Sierra thought about it a moment, taking the time to eat a few more huge spoonfuls of ice cream. “There may be a way.” She set the frozen dessert back in the freezer and headed to her bedroom. “Follow me.”
Ronan did, so closely that she almost ran into him when she grabbed what she was looking for and turned to exit the room.
“Careful.” He put his hands out to steady her.
She instantly felt the connection between them heat up. She wondered if she could read his thoughts. Looking into his dark brown eyes, she saw hunger there. Hunger for her or her blood?
For you.
Did he really think that or was it just wishful thinking on her part? She hated to think she was the only one consumed with these feelings, this incredibly strong need. Had the vampire bond merely built on what she’d already been experiencing from the moment she’d walked into this house? She had no answers here. Only questions. A lot of questions. And a lot of aching, pulsing desire to have sex with him for days on end.
Maybe she wasn’t lacking the slutty gene after all. Ronan certainly brought out her inner slut.
But it wasn’t real, right? This was a temporary condition and she would revert to normal … when they had sex. Okay, then. She’d freak out and yank him into her bed if she didn’t focus her thoughts elsewhere, like on the vintage wooden Ouija board she had in her hand.
Pulling free, she hurried to the living room and set it on the table. She moved aside a few magazines and put the pointer on the wooden board before sitting on the couch.
“Put your fingertips on it the same way I am,” she told Ronan as he sat down beside her.
“My fingers are bigger than yours.”
Naturally his comment made her think about his other body parts. “Don’t say a word.” She was rather pleased with the way that order came out. She sounded like Nicki.
She eyed Ronan, but he wisely remained silent. She just hoped he hadn’t been butting into her thoughts about his body parts a second ago or about having sex with him for days on end. The dispassionate expression on his face revealed nothing aside from the fact that he was good at keeping his thoughts to himself.
“Spirits, are you with us?” she said.
“Don’t push the pointer,” she warned Ronan. “Just let it move where it wants to go.”
The pointer headed to the YES section on the top corner of the board.
“We want to speak to Adele McCoy,” Sierra said.
The pointer circled aimlessly.
“Are you Adele?” Sierra asked.
The pointer moved to NO.
“Do you know Adele?”
More aimless movements until it eventually went to YES.
“Did you do that?” she asked Ronan.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“Maybe you being a vampire is giving the board a weird vibe.”
The pointer quickly moved to YES.
Ronan yanked his fingers away. “Do it yourself then.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Sierra said.
“I can’t believe you’ve never used one of these before.”
“Not with a vampire.”
“You should know all this stuff,” Ronan said impatiently. “You write paranormal novels, whatever the hell that means.”
“It means things that aren’t normal.”