Mirror, Mirror by Robb J. D. & Blayney Mary & Fox Elaine & Ryan R.C. & McComas Mary Kay

Author:Robb, J. D. & Blayney, Mary & Fox, Elaine & Ryan, R.C. & McComas, Mary Kay [McComas, Mary Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

I’M GETTING WORRIED. I SEEM TO BE MISSING MORE AND more time. I don’t know where I go or what I do, but when I reappear in my house I find it completely furnished and looking thoroughly lived in. If this woman is supposed to be “important” to me, I need to know how, and the only way to find out is to be here. So why am I not?

I don’t know. And Asta is no help.

But now that I’m here I’m going to do everything I can to stay and try to make contact.

It’s the middle of the night and I’ve got an idea. I’ve been sitting by the bed, watching her sleep. Watching the way her eyes flicker with some dream, her dark lashes twitching against her skin. I imagine running a finger along those lashes and know they will feel soft as pussy willows.

Her hair is loose on the pillow, and for as long as I’ve been a phantom my sense of touch was the least missed of sensations until now. I want to feel that glossy thickness in my palms, clutch the silken strands in my fingers, and pull her close. Put my lips on hers, touch her tongue with mine.

And I want to feel her hands on me. Feel her skin on mine. Body to body, flesh to flesh. But most of all I want her eyes, those fathomless dark eyes, to rest upon me, drink me in, see me.

I am here! I want to shout. Feel me here.

No, I think. Asta was wrong. I don’t need to be seen—not on TV and not here. Most of all I want her to hear me. Hear my voice. Hear my thoughts. My questions. The realization staggers me. It might be the most selfish thing I’ve ever wished, but I want this girl to know me. And I want to know her.

Which is a helluva big surprise to me, guy voted most likely to dump you for no discernible reason by all of my ex-girlfriends. (I’m not kidding. This actually happened at my memorial service.)

It’s not an option anymore, however. I’ve missed my chance to be heard, understood, loved. All I can do now is watch. And yearn.

I bend over Cassandra, with my insubstantial body, and I draw myself close. With nothing but the most softhearted feeling, I lean in to kiss her, but just before my lips meet hers, her eyes open.

I freeze, stunned, because this time I know with everything I am that she’s looking at me, seeing me.

“It’s you,” she says, her voice soft and languid.

Stunned, I say back, “It’s me.”

The heart I recently remembered hammers in my spectral chest. It’s unclear if she heard me, but I know she sees me.

Her lips curve and her eyelids drop again. “The man who disappeared.”

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