I’ll beg your pardon once again for the un-beta read state of this story. I really wanted to share it tonight. It was meant to mostly be this scene, a little porny ghost story called “All Hallows Eva”, but it sprouted a plot like a Hyrdra’s heads, and so it’ll be a while before it’s done. I hope you enjoy this little taste anyway!
For a little background on what’s going on, ghost over to the first haunting excerpt from earlier in October: Vampire Donovan Sterling Arrives at Sterling Hall and Gets the Crap Scared Out of Him.
Donovan Meets the Ghost of Sterling Hall
One of many perks about being a vampire in construction was that jobs requiring little more than a good aim and brute strength could be done by himself in a tenth of the time a human crew would require. Back in the states, he had often been accused of undercutting in his bids, but the fact was that he simply needed less bodies for some jobs. He liked to do as much of the work on his own as he could, although he tried to make hiring up in other areas and larger jobs.
Donovan had a much larger than average sledgehammer, crafted especially to take advantage of his preternatural strength. He always thought of that old John Henry song as he took hold the beast and gave it the first hard swing — right through the heavy brick as if it was made of cardboard. It crumbled with a satisfying smash and crunch into a pile of rubble on the floor.
Nice. He’d have the whole wall down, central chimney intact, in less than a day.
The sheer physical action felt so good, it was a rush. Putting his body into it from shoulders to legs to planted feet; the heft, the twist, the swing and the impact. He got in such a steady rhythm that he didn’t take a break until long into deep of the night.
He had stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow when the slight chill of the room went suddenly winter frigid. His breath puffed white steam into the air. A shiver rocked down his spine, raised goosebumps over every inch of his body. It had been a while since he fed, and his vampire metabolism had dropped him to room temperature. That the change in the room’s warmth hit him so hard was impossible to ignore as he had learned to do with so many other odd goings on in Sterling Hall since his arrival.
He had already been in mid-swing when the haunt warning hit, and there was no way to stop the momentum.
“Shit!” He barked as the sledge plowed through the last stand of bricks at the far end of the wall. Rather than fall down or explode in a shower of debris like the others, something came flying at him, knocking him off his feet and sending him crashing across the room and skidding along the floor until he hit a stack of drywall leaned near the top of the stairs.
With a stunning, red-haired, be-freckled young woman on top of him, all soft curves and wriggling limbs.
“HELLLLLLLL…” she was screaming, just as she had in nights past.
Even in his sheer, frozen terror, Donovan’s body was having a completely inappropriate response to the situation. The fear was there in more than equal measure as the arousal to her proximity, for all that he could feel every luscious inch of the woman who had just burst out of the wall and landed on him…
He could also see right through her.
Before he had the chance to lose it and freak out (or get even harder), the ghost flew back — not jumped, not scurried or ran — as far as she could, up against the far wall from where he lay, looking as terrified of him as he was of her. She had wide emerald eyes he could see flashing even in the weak light of the work lamps, and she clutched the top of her sheer white nightgown to her chest in a gesture of self-defense.
“Who are you?” she screamed. “What do you want with me?”
Donovan struggled to his feet, but all he could manage after that was to stand there, gaping at her with a strange sort of double vision. On one hand, what a beautiful woman she was, and how instantly attracted to her he felt when that hadn’t happened in such a very long time. On the other — she was a fucking ghost. He could see the wall and the re-built fireplace right through her.
It took a minute to get anything at all out of his mouth. “I… you… what… I don’t…”
Of course, what did come out wasn’t actual sense.
Suddenly, the ghost looked a lot less frightened, and a lot angrier. “Ye’re one a them!” She hollered with a thick brogue, “The Sterlings, those DEMONS! If you think you’ll claim me soul or blood, ye’re sad mistaken, sir!”
With that, she broke into an old-fashioned boxer’s stance, little feet braced apart, her tiny hands balled into fists and pixy features scrunched up like a street fighter. The sight of her broke Donovan’s fear and tension, and he gave in to the overwhelming urge to burst into laughter — another thing he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember. Maybe he really was going crazy, and the new arrival was a hallucination. Or hell, maybe he should just give in and except that she was a ghost. Either way, at least she was interesting.
“What do you find so amusing, vampire?” she spat, making a threatening gesture in his direction. That she couldn’t have done him any damage even if she was corporeal just amused him more — and made him admire her a little bit as well.
He tried to throttle back on to a chuckle so that he could reassure her, and held up his hands in the international and hopefully timeless sign of harmlessness.
“I’m not after your soul, I promise. I was just working to repair the house. And… I’m not sure how to break this to you, but I don’t think I could get blood from a ghost even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”
She dropped her fighting stance. “A what? I’m not…” She glanced down at her sheer form. “Oh. Well. Right, then. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re one of those unnatural Sterling beasts! I would recognize the stench of you no matter what the state of my body!”
Hm. He couldn’t quite determine if there was a safe way to answer that unless he was going to lie, and there was no guarantee lying would work either. Maybe ghosts knew truths that earthbound people couldn’t. No, whether she knew it or not, if Donovan truly wanted to change where he came from, the legacy of the name he carried, honesty had to be the only way. Even if he was dealing with someone from the next world — maybe a victim of the Sterlings’ past.
“I am. My name is Donovan Sterling.”
The ghost pondered that for a few moments, examining him from head to toe with such intensity that it started the goosebumps all over again.
“All right, Donovan Sterling. You say I’m a haint, and your clothing is strange. You’re no Sterling like any I’ve seen before. What is the year? Why are we here in the attic of the Hall?”
Another possible minefield of questions. Maybe she was strangely matter of fact about accepting that she was a ghost, but finding out however long she’d been so and how she’d appeared… would she be okay with those?
“It’s 2012.” Better to pull off the Band Aid — or pull the pin on the grenade — quickly. “And you came out of the wall.”
Her cherubic mouth dropped open, and in a blink, she was completely solid.
“Two thousand? And twelve? But… when I served dinner to the Sterling this eve, it was 1904. How could I not have known so much time had passed? How did was I in the wall?”
Now that she was solid (and okay, twice as disturbingly hot), he felt compelled to give her some physical comfort as he would any other woman. He stepped carefully toward her and gently brushed her shoulder. The long cotton sleeve of her nightgown was soft against his fingertips, and he was reminded all over again how she got here and what she probably was.
“I’m sorry. I wish I knew how to answer all the questions you must have, but I’m afraid this is my first face-to-face experience with, uh… your people.” She didn’t flinch away at his touch, but simply stared in what was fully understandable shock. He wondered what that kind of state meant for a ghost, and slowly morphed the last of his fear into compassion for her position. “Maybe we can figure out all of that together. Let’s start with your name?”
Strange to see a ghost’s green eyes look haunted as she pulled her gaze up to meet him in a simple motion that seemed to cost her a great deal of effort.
“I… my name is Eva… I can’t recall my father’s own name.” She sagged visibly, and while she remained solid, her color faded until all of her nearly matched the white of her nightgown. “Or how I came to be here, so long away from the world of the living.” She reached up and gripped his arms with hands as cold as icicles. “Please. Help me!”
Her frantic need struck like a punch to the gut, reminding him of the aching emptiness in his own being. He also knew in an instant that it has been Eva who was screaming all those nights… and she hadn’t been threatening Hell, she had been begging for help.
“Of course I’ll help you. What do you need? I’ll do whatever I can.”
Before he could blink, her cold, strong hands were tangled in his hair, and she pulled his head down to claim his mouth. The shock of her cold lips, the sensual assault of her probing tongue, were strangely terrifying and arousing all at once.
God, he was twisted.
“I’m so hungry,” she murmured into the kiss, “Feed me. Please.”
Oh…kay. Whatever that meant, he hoped it was ironic. As a vampire, the term held certain connotations he wasn’t sure he wanted to participate on the receiving end. After all, he was a bloodthirsty monster himself, driven by the ancient, perpetually unquenchable thirst of his own kind.
The whole thing was incredibly hot whatever the meaning. It had been so long since he was connected to another being in any kind of intimate way after his all-but-arranged engagement imploded, he had sworn off this kind of closeness as not worth the pain.
But there was a freedom here outside of everyday reality, time, and space. A lovely spirit who desired him only for this? His aching body couldn’t say no.
The ferocious kiss was a devouring dance of tongues, lips, and teeth that send bolts of electricity up and down his spine, started his heart storming in his chest, and all his blood boiling to his instantly rock hard cock. Eva wrapped her arms around his neck and threw herself into his arms, wrapping soft, lean legs around his waist and grinding that greedy, feminine body against him.
The mix of hot and cold, the friction, the oddness of it all made Donovan’s knees buckle as she devoured him. With a deep groan, he took her to the floor on his chest. He wondered if she had some strange erotic ghost powers, because she managed to keep kissing him, nibbling and sucking at his mouth, exploring his jaw and throat even as her tiny hands made quick work of his belt, fly and jocks, yanking the whole shebang off with a single tug. In a moment, he was nude from the waist down, and her wet center was pressed against him, easing languidly up and down his cock.
He was helpless, any small shred of self-control gone, leaving him with nothing to do but thrust upward at her, trying to increase the friction.
“Lord help me!” she cried, head thrown back, red curls a blazing waterfall of crimson down her bowed back. “You feel like Heaven!”
All the religious “dirty talk” was a little out of his comfort zone, but why the fuck not? Nothing about this was anywhere even on the same continent as normal. Donovan slid his hands beneath her nightgown, taking as gentle hold of her hips as his rocketing passion allowed.
“I want inside you,” he gasped. “Have you ever…?” If she had been an early 20th century maid in Catholic Scotland, she was probably a virgin, ghost or not.
“No, I’ve never. I don’t care! I’m so un-tethered from this world. I need to FEEL. I know the ancients practiced the Great Rite on this land to appease their gods, and I’m desperate for that. I need you! Now!”
Well, the dead lady wanted what the dead lady wanted, who was he to say no? The music of the autumn night outside — wind and owls and wolfsong — set a dark atmosphere that seemed somehow just right for what was happening. It called to him to take her, to be one with another aspect of death even his species never experienced. At least, not that he knew of.
And definitely not like this.
He might be a vampire, a loner, and tried to be a gentleman the majority of the time, but Hell, he was only a guy underneath it all. He took hold of his cock and guided it to her entrance, wild to discover from her wetness just how much she did want him.
“It might hurt, if you’re a virgin,” he ground out. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”
She braced her weight on her shoulders and raised herself up. “Close your mouth and take me, Sterling!”
He did, with a single fierce thrust that sheathed him deep, assisted in no small part with her surprising strength used to impale herself on him.
“FUCK!” he shouted, the tight, wet surround of her cunt the perfect fit to drive him straight to the edge. He was the one who felt like the virgin now, halfway to coming before he’d even moved.
“Mother of Christ!” she shouted in return.
A rush of lust and passion seared through his every nerve ending, mixed with that strange, cool tingling sensation of her skin everywhere their bodies connected.
As he thrust upward into her lush, willing form, he wanted to see the response of her body as they fucked. Donovan swept his hands upward, tossed her nightgown away, and took a moment just to appreciate how truly beautiful she was. The curvy femininity of her shape, the smooth flesh only hinted at under her nightgown was even more ravishing than he imagined. His hands moved of their own accord to explore her, teasing the blushing peach of her peaked nipples, eliciting a low moan from Eva as she arched into his touch. She writhed, serpent-like as she rode him, rocking her hips forward and back as he entered her again and again, pressing his hands to every inch of flesh he could reach.
“Donovan,” she sighed.
The sound was too much for his mind and body to take. His climax was a freight train on the near horizon, coming on fast and too strong for his control to stop. He snapped, and with a snarl, increased their union to a furious pace, lunging off the floor to pound into her with all of his might, a bruising grip on her hips to guide her.
“More! Deeper! Ah, God, please, it’s not enough!” she cried, nails gouging his chest, thighs nearly crushing his hips as she gripped him, meeting every thrust. Her inner muscles began to flutter and clench, signaling her own pending release. There was no way he was going to last much longer and he wanted to come with her.
Donovan flipped her onto her back, careful to cradle her head (although some deep-seated logic area in his brain realized protecting the skull of a ghost might be a waste of energy). All thoughts were washed away in the storm of pleasure that roared into him, over him, wiping him clean of anything but this moment, this woman, their bodies. Who and what they were didn’t matter, how they got here and what might happen next didn’t matter at all.
He wrapped his arms around Eva, pulling her close, heart to heart, ragged breath to ragged breath, and looked deeply into the unnaturally clear green of her eyes.
“So beautiful. God, you’re so beautiful. You feel… so good. Eva!”
“Yes! My love, yes!” She kissed him over his face and jaw. “Yes! This bliss, ah! God, it’s like grace, like a feast, like… Please, don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!”
Unfortunately, “never” was only a few moments away as she came with a cry that shook the rafters, shoving Donovan over the edge of his own orgasm. He poured everything into her — the past few years of frustration, fear and sorrow. The loneliness. All of it. The passion he and Eva had engendered exploded in the last fading shadows of the night, his consciousness splintering into a blinding light.
He felt her sigh once more, softly this time, and settle into his arms. “Thank you, Donovan Sterling,” she whispered.
“Thank you, Eva,” he replied, and as his consciousness slipped into sated rest in the first rays of dawn, she vanished.