When the Dead Speak Bailey Bradford (books on motivation txt) 📖

face, he would have sworn his heart actually stopped. Though no features were visible, Sev got that same feeling he’d gotten as he’d studied the gleam in a certain pair of dark eyes over the past few hours.

“Conner S-Sutherland?”

Please, God, if You’re real, let it be Conner! As scared and cold as Sev was, he didn’t think it was safe to jump to conclusions, but he didn’t have any other brilliant ideas. A familiar buzzing sound filled Sev’s head, a voice he’d heard before, and the fear and cold ceased to matter as the urgency coming from the spirit filled Sev. He nodded slowly and closed his eyes.

“Okay, Conner. Tell me what you need to tell me.” Sev sat back against one of the table legs and let that otherworldly voice speak to him.

Chapter Four

Skin tingling, prickling with an awareness he didn’t understand, Laine stood in front of Sev’s hotel door for the second time that day.

“Just nerves,” Laine tried to assure himself as he shivered. He raised his hand to knock but stopped as a wave of chills swept over him. Laine braced his hand on the door to steady himself and jerked it back with a startled hiss.

“What the hell?” He touched the door with shaky fingers, then pressed his palm flat. Cold as ice. Laine pressed his other hand against the door and felt fingers of unnatural cold creep over his skin, spreading from his palms up to his forearms. What is going on? Laine made his fingers slide down the door instead of pulling his hands away. He gripped the doorknob with both hands and twisted, shoving hard against the door when Sev’s slurred voice seeped through the steel door.

The knob didn’t turn, and Laine’s fingers were cramping from the cold. The hot Texas sun was damn near searing his back while his front felt like he’d be suffering from frostbite within minutes. Laine clamped his jaw tight to keep his teeth from chattering and leaned into the door once again, bringing his ear to the chilly surface. Sev’s voice was nearly unintelligible, the words so slurred now Laine was afraid the man was in serious danger of freezing to death.

“Severo! Open this damned door!” Laine pounded on the door, the impact shooting shards of pain up his cold hand. “Severo! Now!”

Laine banged on the door again and paused, listening and trying to discern if Severo was conscious. He heard the man’s voice faintly, could make out ‘cold’, and a name that had Laine shoving away from the door, eyes wide with shock. Conner? Conner is doing this?

“Can’t be you,” Laine whispered. “Conner…you wouldn’t…you wouldn’t have done someone the way whatever…whoever is in there is doing Severo. You weren’t cruel.” In fact, Conner had been one of the kindest people LAine had known. “Why would you be trying to kill Severo?” It didn’t make sense. Not even if Conner was pissed over Laine and Severo being intimate. Conner wouldn’t have begrudged Laine that. He woduln’t have been a jealous fool.

Laine took a faltering step backwards then turned and ran to the hotel office. He needed a key before something bad happened to Severo.

“I need the key to room one-fifteen, now!” Laine yelled at the hotel clerk. The poor guy looked shocked but Laine had to give him credit, the man was efficient and level-headed. He had the key in Laine’s hand before Laine drew his next breath. “Call an ambulance and send them over there.”

The door was still as cold as it had been moments ago. Laine was afraid, but not for himself. He couldn’t think of anything other than the small, sexy man inside. How long? Laine shoved the key in the lock and twisted. How long has he been in this God damned meat locker? He got the door opened and nearly dropped the key. There was…something, Laine couldn’t describe it right now if his life depended on it, but it was in front of Severo—and the room temperature was dangerously, impossibly low. Severo’s eyes had a glazed look to them, his lips an unnatural color that spurred Laine into action.

“Get the fuck out!” Figuring it was futile, but not knowing what else to do, Laine charged at the form. “What are you doing to him? Get out!” He swung at the figure and felt his breath lock up in his lungs when the shape seemed to shift around. Laine caught a glimpse of something familiar, and as his arm passed through what he guessed would be the head of the spirit, an odd sense of warmth burst over him. The sensation was so startling that he yelled and stumbled back. He’d expected a blast of the icy cold that was emanating from the thing, and to experience the opposite threw him.

Laine caught himself on the edge of the bed before he tumbled backwards. He stared transfixed at the approaching shape with equal parts hope and fear. A low groan from Severo brought Laine out of his thrall.

“Conner?” Laine pushed down his embarrassment—he was not hallucinating. He remembered that build, the broad shoulders and the faint outline of thick arms and thighs. “Conner, you need to stop. Can’t you see what you’re doing to him?” Laine swallowed against the thick knot of guilt in his throat and shook his head slowly. “You’re hurting him, baby. You wouldn’t have ever done something like that before…before.”

The shape hesitated, hovering as if unsure or trying to comprehend Laine’s words.

“Look at him, Conner. Look.” Laine glanced at Severo, noted his slow breathing. “The man I knew wouldn’t have done that, Conner, and I can’t believe you would—” Praying he was wrong, Laine continued, “I can’t believe you would hurt someone because I had, we had… Jesus! I’m the one who jumped him! Why would you do this?”

The figure seemed to vibrate, head swinging violently from side to side in an attempt, Laine hoped, to negate his accusations. An eerie moan rose and resonated inside Laine’s