The Soul Collector - By Tamela Quijas Page 0,36

job.” She grumbled tersely and jerked her head at the spirit hovering across the room. “Despite how much you and that damn hand of yours frighten me; he insists I ask questions.” �

“I didn't mean to frighten you.” �

...nah, you think.

She shrugged at the sarcastically enunciated comment and forced a laugh. Eva crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. She blinked rapidly, and seemed to be forming her own questions. Her actions, though, led him into a world where he couldn't manage a coherent thought, his gaze settling on the delicious outline of her ample breasts.

“I've done my research.” �

“And?” �

“I imagine you're Lucien D'Angel,” she supplied, her voice firm as her eyes slid back to the computer screen.

“Why?”

“I haven't any choice. As you said yourself, the story is too fantastic. The painting wouldn't lie and your hand…” she left the sentence unfinished, though Lucien understood. The palm of his hand was the proverbial icing on the cake, and reassured her he spoke the truth.

“My sire wasn't pleased with the portrait," he grumbled, more to himself. “He had the unfortunate artist drawn and quartered before the castle’s population.” �

“Tell me your story, Lucien.” �

The request held an unavoidable edge, and he understood a part of her wanted to know the truth. There was, also, the far saner side that didn’t want the disgusting details.

“I fear you’ll bolt in horror.” �

“Been there, done that,” she responded sarcastically, her breath a soft cloud of steam in the freezing room. “Unfortunately, the reporter in me prevents me from running away, screaming like I want to do.”

…pull up a chair, it's gonna be a long night�

Lucien managed a thready chuckle, the effort strained. “Your brother has accomplished much these past few days.” �

“Well,” �Eva granted him a grimace laced with embarrassment. She didn't turn toward the image that remained diligently nearby, albeit hovering, in a distant corner of the room. “I had a lot to consider, and he was in the way.”

…I can be a real pain

“I can't bear your fear,” he murmured apologetically.�

…she's stronger than she looks�

“You dumped a hand with a glowing palm on me the same night you showed me a spirit tailing my every step. I suppose most people wouldn't think too clearly.” �

There was a wry twist to his lips while he considered her statement, followed by the heavy chuckle that escaped her brother. They were both correct. Spirit images were a normally an unaccepted sight, even to the most understanding person, and his palm held a gruesomeness of its own.

“My existence is a difficult story.” �

“Tell me, Lucien,” she pleaded.�

“Do you truly wish to know, to understand?” �

…she doesn't have a choice now, does she? �

She shrugged, her arms falling to her sides as she neared him. He frowned, confounded by her nearness. They stood side-by-side, the top of her head close to his shoulder, her gaze wary, fear nonexistent in her overcurious gaze.

He wished he felt the same. The proximity of her warm flesh was tantalizing and mind numbing, sending a frisson of apprehension shooting through him.

“I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know.” She shrugged at an attempt of lighthearted humor. “Who knows? This has the makings of a potential bestseller. It may rival the popularity of your books.”

“My life is not something to write about, Evangeline.” He muttered. “I would prefer if you kept my secret that, a secret.”

“I’m not going to let the world know about you.” She grumbled in return. “If I did, I think I’d be locked up in the local loony bin.”

He made a sound deep in his throat, amused by her statement. Reluctantly, he began to speak. “I did tell you the basics.”

“Basics, yeah,”� she frowned as she scanned his face. “You neglected to tell me you had a twin brother named Julian.” �

Lucien gave her a cryptic smile. “We are only twins because we entered the world on the same fateful night, having shared the same womb.”

He moved away from the computer. Words appeared difficult, and thoughts ran in a jumbled mess through his mind. The events of the past were difficult to tell, for he had held every moment turned within his mind for as long as he could recall.

….sometimes, you don't need enemies. You have them in your own family�

Lucien pulled his hands from his pockets, the action slow and purposeful. Using a single finger, he pointed at the sofa. Eva reddened, her startled and apprehensive gaze flying fearfully to his