Mary Wine

DREAM SPECTER

An Ellora’s Cave Publication, December 2004

Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

1337 Commerce Drive, #13

Stow, OH  44224

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0060-9

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

DREAM SPECTER © 2004 MARY WINE

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Edited by
Pamela Cohen.

Cover art by
Syneca.

Warning:

The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers.
Dream Specter
has been rated S-ensuous by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

S-
ensuous
love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

E-
rotic
love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

X-
treme
titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

Dream Specter

Mary Wine

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Playboy: Playboy Enterprises International, Inc.

Chapter One

There were witches on the mountain.

Everyone knew that. Roshelle might have only been eight years old, but she knew about the witches. Johnny Murray said the sheriff was the only man brave enough to go up on the mountain at night. Johnny was twelve and he knew a lot of things.

Shuffling her feet, Roshelle took another hesitant step. She was on the very edge of her grandmother’s property. One more step would put her onto the mountain.

With the witches
.

Looking at the trees in front of her, Roshelle didn’t even see a rabbit move. She had lived with Abba for a whole year and never seen anyone else.

She wished Abba were here now. No, she didn’t, because that would be cheating. Winning a dare didn’t mean anything if you cheated.

Johnny dared her to go up onto Witch Mountain and bring back his baseball hat he’d lost when he’d been chased away by one of the witches. He had told her right where to look for it. If she didn’t get the hat, she couldn’t play on Johnny’s soccer team and everyone knew his team was the best ever.

Roshelle was the best girl player in school, but everyone on Johnny’s team had passed a dare. At least she didn’t have to go at night. Straightening her shoulders, she moved towards the ravine where the cap was.

Ten minutes later, Roshelle lifted the hat from where it lay half-covered in mud. Johnny was sure brave to have come up here alone.

But so was she, and now she was going to show those boys that a girl was good enough for their team!

Her joy evaporated in an instant.
Someone was watching her.
Her eyes searched the forest. The feeling was always right. Roshelle didn’t know how to describe the feeling, but she knew wasn’t alone.

Turning around, Roshelle stopped when the feeling came again. Now she was facing whoever was watching her. She wasn’t sure what to do. Abba always said to introduce yourself.

“I’m Roshelle.”

Her voice drifted away with the wind. Her eyes watched, but nothing moved. Crossing her arms across her chest, Roshelle waited. It was impolite to ignore an introduction. Abba had told her so.

The boy dropped from one of the tree branches. He landed perfectly on his feet with just a slight bend at the knees to break the impact of his landing. Roshelle felt her mouth form into a round expression of wonder. He had bright emerald green eyes.

The witches had green eyes… Only these were very nice eyes and he looked more like a boy instead of what Roshelle thought a witch should look like.

“You knew I was there.”

Roshelle nodded her head. She was hoping that he wouldn’t ask her how she knew. Her mother had made her promise never to tell anyone about her sspecial feelings. Roshelle couldn’t break a promise to her mama.

“I’m Roshelle Marie Everitt. Do you want to be my friend?”

“You’re a girl.”

Sticking her lower lip out, Roshelle propped her hands onto her hips. She was better than any boy! She was even talking to one of the witches! The boy was very tall with devil black hair, just like Johnny said. She wasn’t afraid of him and she would tell him so!

“I’m not afraid of you!”

A smile split the boy’s face in response.

“You should be.”

He turned and walked away up the mountainside. Roshelle watched him until the trees hid him from her sight. He was a very rude boy.

He had never introduced himself.

* * * * *

It was strange how a memory could come up and interrupt a person’s thoughts for apparently no reason. Letting herself out onto the back porch of her grandmother’s house, Roshelle took a moment to look up to the mountain. The Campbell family lived up there.

Roshelle shook her head at her own gullibility to have believed the stories about Witch Mountain. Maybe she would take a walk up to the ravine tomorrow just for the fun of it.

She ran a finger over the smooth surface of the kitchen counter. The house was as clean as a church kitchen, but it was also as silent as a confessional. Her shoes made the slightest sound as she moved from room to room. She pulled the shades open and forced the stubborn latches of the windows open.

The forest sounds rushed into the house along with the sweet fresh mountain air. Roshelle pulled it into her lungs and smiled.

Home.

What an under-appreciated little word. Well, she certainly valued it now! Benton County was home. There was no place she’d rather lay her head each night.

The house almost seemed pleased to once again be used. Roshelle turned to the task of unpacking. Her car was stuffed with every single possession she owned. Roshelle set a determined pace to empty it.

She stopped a moment and looked into the master bedroom. Her grandmother’s hand-crocheted bedspread was neatly tucked and folded over the double bed.

Lord, how she missed Abba.

Forcing her smile back onto her face, Roshelle mentally scolded herself. Abba lived a long, full life. It had simply been the lady’s time. The years Roshelle had spent away seemed the greatest loss, but Abba would have blistered her ears if she’d heard her lamenting her time at University.

Doctor Roshelle Marie Everitt.

Her grandmother had almost burst with pride on graduation day! And now she was home. Roshelle planned to settle into Benton County and live a long, full life just the way her grandparents did, right here in this house.

The pealing bell tones of her phone interrupted her amusement.

“Dr. Everitt.”

The Tri-County Medical Center desk nurse informed her that Jennifer London had gone into labor with her first child. Roshelle issued a few quick questions to ensure that it wasn’t a false alarm before hanging the phone up. She loved delivering babies, and her very first patient in Benton County seemed eager for her services.

* * * * *

“You are the worst doctor in the world!”

“Push, Jennifer.”

“It hurts too much! You have to do something to help me!”

Another contraction captured the complete attention of the mother-to-be. Her husband stood by unsure as to just what to do for his laboring wife.

“You can do it, Honey. I love you so much!”

“I hate you! You’re a dog! This is entirely your fault! I hope you like the sofa because you are going to be sleeping on it for the rest of your life! I want more pain medication, so get a doctor in here that didn’t get their degree from a mail-order catalog!”

Roshelle compressed her lips. First babies were always the most traumatizing.

“Here we go, Jennifer, one more time!”

Jennifer put herself into the next push and was rewarded with a screaming bundle protesting its eviction from its warm nest. Roshelle efficiently cleared the infant’s airways. The healthy wail of the baby girl brought a smile to everyone present in the delivery room.

“Robert, I love you so much!”

Two hours later Roshelle headed her car for home. She left the new family to the business of getting acquainted. Lucky for her the medical center was only a twenty-mile drive from her home. It was well after two in the morning, and Roshelle was eagerly anticipating a date with her pillow.

Even as tired as she was, Roshelle reacted instantly to the man that ran into the road in front of her car. He just walked from the forest without even glancing to see if there was oncoming traffic. Hitting the brakes only served to slow her vehicle down, she was powerless to stop.

The impact of machine and flesh came with a dull thump. The man rolled up and over her car to land in the road behind her. Roshelle jammed the car into park before pushing her door open and jumping out of the car. Her victim lay on the pavement with a stillness that caused her heart to constrict.

Her fingers found the steady pulse in the column of his neck. She moved her hands over his limbs in search of breaks. His eyes flew open before she finished her assessment.

“Relax…”

He surged upwards from the pavement and brutally flipped her body backwards. Her body slammed into the asphalt with painful force. A knee was jammed across her chest as he leaned enough of his body weight into her chest to cause her to struggle for every breath she drew. One huge hand closed around her neck.

Struggling to draw air into her lungs, Roshelle attempted to force her panic aside. The ease that he threw her over with said he could crush her neck with that single hand. He was drawing rapid breaths as he bent his head down to study her. In the dark his face was nothing more than angles and shadows.

The fingers that encircled her throat suddenly became red-hot with pain. It snaked through the five points of contact and straight into her brain. In that single second she felt more exposed than she had ever experienced in her twenty-six years of life. His eyes bore down into her own as she felt the wave wash over her mind before she lost her grip on awareness.

Sitting back on his haunches, Jared contemplated the female that was stretched out on the road.

Reaching out he felt along her neck to confirm that he hadn’t done irreparable damage to her body. The steady throb of life met with his approval before he hoisted her body onto his shoulder.

“What happened to her?”

“You’re late.” Jared issued his opinion as more of a judgment to the men that emerged from the darkness. Further comment was interrupted as a truck pulled around the bend in the road. The headlamps lit the scene to near daylight. Jared half-turned and waited for the two occupants of the vehicle to approach him. The men behind him snapped to sharp attention.

The new arrivals returned the briefest of salutes before they dismissed the other men present.

“She alive?” The question was asked with the barest of emotion.

“Yes. This team is inadequate.”

An unpleasant look entered both men’s eyes as they noted the men in question. There was no room for shortcomings here. Mistakes were often paid for with lives. Tonight they had gotten lucky.

* * * * *

“No! It is not for sale!”

The receiver was dropped back onto the cradle with a loud clunk. Roshelle jumped as the sound set off another wave of pain through her head. She just didn’t understand it. Every single fiber of her body ached. She didn’t even remember arriving home yesterday. The clock told her that she had slept for fifteen hours, yet she felt more bone weary than she had when she had begun the drive home from the hospital.

But it was the dream that was truly bothering her. She could actually feel the emotions of the dream. It played over and over inside her mind with crystal clearness. Yet she awakened in her own bed so it had to be just the actions of her brain.

Nothing seemed to help lift the fog from her head. It was an effort to even keep her eyes open. Having the Huntley law firm call with yet another insistent offer for her grandmother’s property just made her head ache all that much more.

Roshelle would never sell the house that her grandfather built with his own hands. Hacked out of the forest, the four-bedroom home had seen three generations of her family raised up inside its walls.

The increasing level of impatience that Clark Huntley was using was really beginning to rub her raw. Couldn’t the man take a hint? Roshelle was home to stay. She had a job and a home. She would think the man would notice that she was making herself quite clear.

“Well, it’s never going to be for sale!”

Raising her hand to her forehead, Roshelle rubbed at the pain. Admitting defeat she turned back towards her bedroom. She certainly hoped that she felt better in the morning.