Black Heart (Cursed Hearts 1)

He'd checked.

Repeatedly.

The airline tickets, private boat to take them to the island and the cost of the rooms and meal package was going to wipe out his entire nest egg and that should piss him off, but surprisingly he didn't care. For the first time in his life, he was going to be a normal guy and he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to hold his wife's hand without worrying about coming up with some f**ked up excuse why he had to drop her hand, cross the street unnecessarily, or having to stop whatever he was doing and kiss her, well, that one he didn't mind, because he was hoping to go unnoticed by a spirit that just happened to be too close for his comfort. He was really looking forward to being able to get some uninterrupted sleep, using the john without an audience, and being able to tell his wife that he loved her before he made love to her without some bitter woman scoffing, ranting and raving that he was a lying sack of shit.

It was going to be two weeks of heaven with Marty and he couldn't wa-

"What the hell is that sound?" Shayne demanded for what was probably the tenth time in the past week and drawing Tristan's attention right back to where it should be.

"Don't know. Don't care," Tristan said, turning his back on his frowning friend. He started to head up the stairs to his wife whom he'd love to make love to for the rest of the night, but actually found himself hoping that she was asleep. She really needed her rest. "Just keep them off my ass for the rest of the night."

Chapter 25

Tristan was hiding something from her.

Actually, she was pretty sure that he was hiding several things from her and, if she wasn’t so damn tired, she’d probably be really pissed off, but right now she couldn’t quite find the energy to pick a fight with him. She could barely find the energy to reach down and grab the comforter and pull it over her.

After several failed attempts, a few groans and whimpers, she gave up and settled for curling up on her side and closing her eyes only to open them a split second later and shoot a nervous look around the dimly lit room when she thought she heard a noise. She didn’t see anything, but…….

Biting her lip, she quickly leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed a fistful of the thick comforter that had been kicked off the bed when she’d tumbled onto the bed with Tristan after their shower. Throwing one last wary glance around the suddenly too quiet room, she dropped back on the bed, yanking the comforter over her in the process.

Her grip on the comforter tightened as she pulled it up to her chin, her eyes darting to the left when the sounds of softly spoken whispers reached her ears. Swallowing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut and yanked the comforter over her head all while telling herself that she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t. It was late, she was tired and everyone knew that sleeping with a comforter pulled over your head was the best way to sleep.

Within minutes the air trapped beneath the comforter became stifling, but she ignored it along with her suddenly parched throat and the pounding of her heart as she strained her ears to listen for any sounds that would let her know that she wasn’t alone.

She opened her mouth to call out for Tristan, but thought better of it and settled for curling up into a tight ball instead, careful not to dislodge the protective comforter from her body.

She couldn’t call Tristan, because he’d probably have her committed. Not that she could blame him. She was hearing voices after all, she thought unhappily as she held her breath, hoping that whatever it was would just go away and leave her alone. But, she knew that it wouldn’t.

It didn’t matter if she ignored the voices or tried to flee the room, they followed her, screamed at her and cried, breaking her heart and terrifying her at the same time. She didn’t know what to do or how much longer she was going to be able to keep this up. To be honest, she was surprised that she’d been able to keep it up this long. She’d thought by now that Tristan would have picked up on her strange behavior and asked what was going on.

Then again, it wasn’t as though she responded to the voices or was acting crazy so maybe she shouldn’t be too surprised that he hadn’t noticed that anything was wrong. As far as Tristan was concerned, she was just having a little trouble going to sleep. He didn’t know that she was probably going crazy.

As the whispering became louder, she wondered how she was going to explain this one to Tristan. She could lie to him and tell him that she was freezing, but that would only end with him cranking up the heat and her struggling not to pass out from heat exhaustion. Then again, she could try playing it off like she was being playful, but that would just end with them making love all night.

Not that making love to her husband all night was an unpleasant thought. It wasn’t. If the circumstances were different, the idea of spending the night between the sheets with Tristan until the alarm forced them apart would have sent shivers of anticipation through her instead of making her feel like she was going to be sick.

She couldn’t do this any longer. She just couldn’t. Since the voices started haunting her, she’d lost too much sleep to be healthy, lost weight, her nerves were fried and, for the past week, she hadn’t been able to hold anything down. The only time she’d managed to get any sleep was when Tristan drove her to work, but most mornings that wasn’t nearly enough to help get her through her day. It was only thanks to her frayed nerves and the fear of experiencing more of those heart-wrenching dreams that kept her from falling asleep at work.

Every time she felt her eyes begin to close she forced them open and if that didn’t work, the voices that would suddenly scream in her ear usually did the trick. Once the voices started, they usually didn’t stop. The only time that she could escape them was if she was in a car or another voice, a man’s voice that from what she could tell so far was obsessed with Gilligan’s Island,  p**n , and harassing Tristan, which was odd, appeared.

Then again, was there really anything about this situation that was normal?

She was married to a man that had spent more than a decade pretending that he didn’t know she’d existed and then made her life a living hell once he was forced to acknowledge her. Tristan was an equal opportunity ass**le, she thought with a small smile that quickly disappeared with a grimace as her stomach chose that moment to perform somersaults.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed her too sensitive stomach to calm down. There was no way that she was going to leave the safety of her comforter when she knew that something in the dark was waiting for her.