Then there’s the second group. The genuine researchers who are trying to discover answers to the unexplainable - whether that means proving the existence of the paranormal or debunking all the reported activity by chalking it up to swamp gas or drafty windows.
My guess is this group is of the former variety. I mean, V.I.P.S.? Really?
I could ignore them and let them think the rumors of paranormal activity are just that - rumors and highly exaggerated, leaving them disappointed and dejected. Or, I could give them the experience of a lifetime. It’s been a while since I’ve put on a good show, and this may be just the distraction I need to avoid tumbling even further into the depths of my despair.
Just add melodramatic to my long list of ghostly sins.
Movement below grabs my attention, and I watch as a man glances toward the window where I’m standing. My breath catches, and a sudden tingle tickles my belly with a strange sense of familiarity. It doesn’t make any sense, and unease begins to slither through me. He’s tall – well over six feet. His sandy blond hair brushes the collar of his shirt, with a stray piece falling in front of his face. A large, masculine hand comes up to run through the offending strands, pushing them out of the way, then drops to run over his scruffy blond facial hair. His bicep flexes under his tight black t-shirt bearing the company logo, and his low-slung jeans hug his long, lean legs. He has a sort of Thor thing going on, and my sex-deprived self just wants to get a peek at his - ahem - hammer.
His brows narrow slightly as he stares my way before his attention is dragged to the man walking up to him.
My gaze slides to the new guy, and the tingles I was feeling before turn into a full-blown riot of sensation in my nether region. Pretty sure I’d be soaking my panties if ghost girls could do that sort of thing. Then something else slithers along with the arousal coursing through me. Something that is gut-wrenching and makes me want to wrap my arms around myself in comfort.
Alpha - as I decide to call the new guy - is just as tall as his friend, but where Thor is lean, athletic grace, Alpha is six-feet-plus of utter badass. Broad shoulders nearly stretch his black logo t-shirt to its limit, and tattoos cover muscular arms that flex as they carry two steel gray cases. His jet black hair is cut into a faux hawk that totally suits the whole bad boy vibe he has going on. Aviator sunglasses cover his eyes from view, but the tightness in his mouth is unmistakable even from a distance. My thumb itches to run along his lips soothing the tension there, offering a reassurance only I can give.
Oh my ghost! Where the hell did that thought come from?
The two have a quick conversation I can’t make out, which is cut off by the approach of Agent Barbie. She sashays up to the duo, and I fully expect them to ogle her and her fake tatas. What is it about a pair of boobs that reduces most guys to simpering puddles of mush? Men…so predictable.
Much to my surprise, her attempt fails, and after a few brief words from Alpha, Agent Barbie turns and heads toward the front doors. She purposely sways her hips to catch their attention, and I wait for their eyes to snag on her ass. It’s an unspoken test. Will they pass, ignoring Agent Barbie’s second attempt at seduction, or will they fail like so many others before them? I’m shocked when their gazes turn in sync to the window where I stand, and for a brief moment, I’m frozen. Unable to move or think or even breathe – if my lungs could actually do that sort of thing. Then they turn and head toward the house without another glance, and the moment is over.
The sound of the front door opening barely registers as I’m lost inside my own mind, taking a step back as I try to figure out what the hell just happened. Throughout the years I’ve been stuck in this afterlife limbo, this is the closest I’ve come to feeling alive. Dormant emotions are beginning to resurface along with a strange sense of awareness. I swear my fingertips are tingling with power, and long dead nerve endings are sparking to life. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m definitely going to have to figure it out. Being caught unaware is annoying.
A deep and husky voice coming from below pulls me from my introspection.
“Guys. I’m picking up a strong feeling of irritation.”
Eyes widening as confusion wars with curiosity, I quickly make my way down the hall to the top of the staircase that descends into the middle of the foyer. My translucent hand grips the beautiful mahogany banister, and I stop myself from taking another step as I stare down at my new visitors.
Agent Barbie has planted herself at the base of the stairs with Alpha and Thor standing off to one side. Three other guys are standing just inside the front doors, their feet surrounded by silver cases. As my gaze scans over the crew, I’m momentarily stunned by all of the eye candy currently taking up space in the foyer. Until this moment, I thought the hot, paranormal researcher was mostly a myth like Big Foot or aliens. Although Zak and Aaron from the GAC could come research me up any time they’d like.
Suddenly, Thor looks up at the spot where I’m standing.
“What is it, Knox?” asks Alpha in a low, rich voice that sends shivers down my spine.
“I don’t know. Now I’m feeling curiosity, or maybe confusion.” Thor seems to ponder this for a moment, falling silent in a brief pause. “It’s hard to tell.”
“What do you mean ‘it’s hard to tell’? What color is the aura?” demands Alpha.
“That’s just it. I can’t see an aura. It’s like I’m experiencing the feelings myself. I’ve never felt anything like this,” muses Thor. “I could swear it’s coming from the top of the stairs.”
The group turns as one toward the staircase, each of them looking around as though they can find the source of his unexplainable feelings. It’s silent as they listen for any sound that could point them in the right direction.
I stand as still as a statue. Afraid that if I move, I’ll shatter whatever the hell this bond is with Thor, or Knox, or whoever the hell he is, and I’ll go back to being utterly alone. For the first time in too many years, I feel a connection with another being. I can’t fuck this up. His eyes, that I can now discern are a beautiful hazel, seem to stare right into mine.
“Are you picking up any other vibes? Male or female? Young or old?” one of the newcomers asks.
He’s slightly shorter than Alpha and Thor but still taller than average. Same black logo shirt that’s hiding what has to be an impressive chest if the muscular arms are any indication. His dark brown hair is messy like he just rolled out of bed. It’s long enough that my fingers itch to run through the silky strands. His black square glasses are super sexy on him, pushing buttons I wasn’t even aware I had.
Thor looks around and shrugs, his brows furrowed in thought. The guy who I decide to name Sexy Nerd pulls out a gadget from one of the silver cases and attempts to turn it on.
A sense of excitement fills the air as the others all wait expectantly. Well, except for Barbie. She’s checking her phone and twirling her hair around one of her fingers, looking slightly bored by it all.
Sexy Nerd smiles, revealing an adorable pair of dimples, and says, “Maybe this will help. I’ve got the digital EMF Meter set up. Let’s see if it wants to play.”
It? Oh, hell no! I am definitely not an it, dammit! I’m five feet, nine inches of curvy, ghostly woman. That’s what the hell I am. Of course, they can’t see me, but that’s beside the point.