The Haunted (Sleeping with Monsters Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

of nearness did not decrease.
    “Did
you live in this room?” she guessed. “In this house?” she clarified. In
response, she felt one warm finger trail down her arm. She shuddered at the
contact, not in fear, but in pleasure – and was instantly ashamed and
horrified.
    “I
have to –“ she stepped aside, away from the heat, and ran, both frightened and
turned on. She slammed the door shut behind her, hoping to hide from whatever
it was in the room with her and her feelings.
     
    She
raced down the stairs and into the library, where the Master’s portrait looked
down disdainfully at the progress Arthur had made.
    “Arthur
–“ she began, breathless.
    “Ma’am?”
He startled straight at the sight of her. “Do you need tea? Lunch will be --”
    “No,
no – um –“ Now that she was here with him, she wasn’t sure what to ask without feeling
foolish. “Can you tell me some of this house’s history?”
    He
blinked. “I was only here for the last twenty years of the Master’s life, and
other than his interest in carving furniture, there’s not much to tell.”
    “Have
you…ever seen a ghost here?”
    He
seemed to consider this. “A house this old has history, no doubt. And history,
almost by default, includes ghosts. But no, I’ve never seen one.”
    Daphne
chewed the inside of her lip. “Never?”
    “Never,”
he said, shaking his head solemnly. “It is spooky here sometimes though. So
much open space, so little life. Perhaps you should buy some houseplants?
Orchids would go nicely with your décor. Or take in a cat or dog. I can arrange
that in town, if you’d wish.”
    She
shook her head quickly. The thought of a cat staring off into space watching
something she couldn’t see didn’t appeal to her much.
    “Perhaps
can I interest you in some tea?”
    “I’d
like that.”
    She
sagged into the sitting couch as Arthur left the room. He was right about one
thing – there was history here. And the family that’d lived here after the
Master had died had done little to erase it.
    Daphne
looked down at her arms. She’d felt it, hadn’t she? It had touched her – it had
been real.
    But
who was it?
    A
lazy breeze made the shadows of the trees outside wave across the ground. She
watched them for a time, and when she looked up she saw the Master staring down.
     
    Daphne
finished unpacking the bedroom that day and didn’t go exploring again. Dinner
was a quiet affair, she ate because she needed to eat, nothing more.
    “Are
you sure you’re well?” Arthur’d asked solicitously at the end of the evening.
    “I
am.” She wasn’t, not at all. But she’d been thinking about it, all afternoon.
    She
didn’t want to tell Arthur about it and sound crazy. The ghost, if ghost it
was, hadn’t tried to harm her. There’d been no parlor tricks, no flies beating
against the windows, or blood dripping from the ceiling – nothing frightening,
just a presence nearby. If this had been her home for eighty years, wouldn’t
she want to vet the new owners too? And she didn’t want to go in with guns
blazing, hiring a priest, as if their mumbo-jumbo-malarkey would even work. No,
there had to be a way to come to an amicable agreement – an understanding --
between the two of them, to live here in peace. The house was certainly big
enough.
    She
heard the alarm chirp on and calmly walked upstairs. If the ghost had wanted
her dead, he’d already had two nights to do her in. And he hadn’t tried to
scare her yet – he’d just wanted to make his presence known.
     
    Daphne
closed the bedroom door behind herself and swallowed before speaking. “You’re
still here, right?”
    Nothing.
No heat, no sensation of anyone else in the room. She didn’t know if she should
be angry or relived.
    “Hello?”
she tried again. Where else would a ghost have to be? She smirked, imagining
him going off to a ghostly dental appointment – when the feeling of being
watched began, wiping the smirk off of her