Prison of Embers: A Paranormal Fated Mates Romance (Blacktower Prison for Supernaturals Book 1) by Leigh Kelsey

Author:Leigh Kelsey [Kelsey, Leigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

13

Trouble

You know what a woman wants to see when she wakes up after a near-death experience? A handsome man, gratuitously shirtless, holding out a platter of cakes and pastries, a glass of bubble tea in his other hand. Not four ghosts crowding close to peer into your face, one of them a distinguished-looking redhead who couldn't have been older than seventeen, plus two dour-looking children and Anne Boleyn floating above my bed with her head held under her arm, squinting at me from beneath her shoulder.

“Jesus,” I gasped, backing up until my spine met against the wall, my breathing sprinting away from me. “Have none of you heard of personal space?”

“Heard of it,” Anne replied, smirking. “But do we respect it? Hmm?” She tapped her bottom lip with her finger, the strangest thing I'd seen in my life. “Nope.”

“Can you maybe ... put your head back on?” I asked, calming my breathing. It was only the ghosts. Not a thought I ever dreamed I'd have, but there it was. Blacktower was opening my mind to all sorts of creepy possibilities. Killer ravens, a psycho Overseer, yeomen—we had it all. And ghosts were the best-case scenario here.

“Oh, don't ask her that,” the redhead sighed, her clothes, skin, and hair all silvery, like a faded watercolour portrait. “Now she'll keep her head under her arm just to spite you.”

Anne chuckled, still smirking.

“Who are you?” one of the boys asked—the youngest, around nine years old and a few years younger than the other ghost boy. “I'm Richard,” he announced, puffing up his chest and sticking out his hand.

“Uh.” I looked to Anne and the redhead for help. “Can I shake that? He's a ghost...”

“It depends on the time of day and how determined he is,” the redhead confided with a small smile “An attempt wouldn't hurt anyone.”

“Right.” What in hell was my life now? Honestly? “Well, it's nice to meet you, Richard,” I told the ghost boy, tentatively gripping his hand. My fingers went straight through his, a chill rippling up my arm, and he giggled, falling back onto the bed with a laugh.

“That's ticklish! I nearly did it,” he proclaimed, grinning. “Didn't I, Lady Jane? Didn't I almost do it?”

“You did,” the redhead agreed fondly. “You were so very close. Let's give the lady some space, shall we? Edward, you too.”

I breathed easier when they backed off, hovering in the middle of my cell instead of right on top of me.

“Firebug?” Azariah gasped, and the boys scattered into ether as he rushed into the room, his golden eyes wide. “I thought I heard you. I only left for a few minutes. How do you feel?”

“Haunted,” I replied drily.

He exhaled in relief and I frowned, wondering just what this mate bond meant—for him and me. If he lost his shit every time I got hurt, this wasn't gonna be a very fun prison sentence for either of us. “Ladies, ladies, as much as I love your presence, I think my mate and I need some alone time.

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