The Flame: 1001 Dark Nights by Rice Christopher

Author:Rice, Christopher [Rice, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Christopher RIce, 1001 Dark Nights, New Orleans, erotic romance, Ghosts, mmf, Erotica
ISBN: 9781940887197
Publisher: Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
Published: 2014-11-11T08:00:00+00:00

10

Cassidy awakens to the feel of Shane’s breath against her collarbone and the delicious weight of Andrew’s arm around her waist. The comforter slid off them during the night, leaving their entwined, naked bodies exposed to the morning sun. Daylight beats through the bedroom window, falling in a precise, accusing rectangle on their discarded clothes. Andrew usually draws the window shade at bedtime. But they slipped into unconsciousness as soon as Shane and Cassidy were leveled by their respective, toe-curling orgasms.

Were they truly exhausted, or was their sudden, deep sleep another result of the spell?

The spell. It’s the first time she’s used that word to describe Bastian Drake’s candle, and it sends a bolt of fear through her.

A spell means it wasn’t real. A spell means it was no different from being in a drunken blackout.

Slowly, she rights herself, gently lifting Andrew’s arm off her waist. She scoots down the bed in between them. Only when she’s free of the sheets does she look back to see if she awakened them by mistake.

Andrew stirs gently and takes Shane into his arms. By the time she’s pulled her robe from the closet, her husband and her best friend are spooning. The sight of them together like this would have filled her with confusion and jealousy weeks before. Now it quiets her fears, fills her with a desire she no longer feels a desperate urge to contain or dismiss. The only thing she’s wanted more than to be sandwiched between them, as she was last night, is to see them like this, their delicious physical contrasts entwined. It’s as if her sun and her moon have met on the same horizon and their combined radiance is neither night nor day, but something almost otherworldly in its ferocity.

Maybe too otherworldly. But if it were just a spell, wouldn’t it have broken by now? Maybe this is—her mind stutters before it gets to the word real. It happened; that’s for sure. And it was good—dizzyingly, delightfully good. But if she’s going to call it something real, that means something will have to come of it, something lasting. And the only way to tell if that’s even a possibility is to find out just what the hell Bastian Drake put in that candle.

Halfway down the stairs she can tell the footprints that greeted her the night before are gone. There’s not a single trace of gold residue anywhere on the hardwood floor.

How is that possible? Did they evaporate? Or did they disappear? She imagines them wafting up into the air like smoke while she and her two men slept upstairs. This vision sets her heart racing to fear’s beat once again. If the spirits that literally moved the three of them to this place abandoned them this quickly, it doesn’t exactly bode well for the future of this… What should she even call it? Threeway? Thruple? Group possession?

Belong to you…both of us…always. Were those last words the three of them whispered to each other before postcoital sleep the result of black magic? Her gut twists at the prospect.

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