Free Beautifully Broken by Sherry Soule

Ravenhurst, it was obscure. Quiet. Peculiar. Creepy. Immense, gesticulating trees with bony branches seemed to reach for me.
    “Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Evans?” My tone, outwardly strong and confident. Inwardly, I shook.
    His long-sleeved, untucked black shirt billowed in the breeze, which played with the strands of my waist-length hair as well. “He’s inside with my father, finishing another interview.” He chuckled, hands up in surrender. “So don’t get your claws out. I’m harmless—I swear.”
      I doubt that. Guys this cute were never harmless!
    “I’m sure a girl could do that job just fine. We’ve got big plans for Ravenhurst. Can’t wait to start the renovations.” Trent shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels. “My father and I have been living in the east wing until we have a chance to finish cleaning and airing out the lower sections. All Ravenhurst needs is a little TLC.”
    “Needs more than that,” I mumbled, thinking of all the repairs the house needed.
    He straightened, chest puffed out. “Excuse me?” When I looked into his eyes, his expression was intense, almost menacing.
    “I, uh, thought I heard a cat.” Gee, apparently I’d hit a nerve.
    Fog wafted closer, like spectral hands seeking to pull me through the gate. A familiar whooshing vibration startled me. Obsidian shapes materialized from the darkness. Scarlet eyes blinked and glowed. My nightmare foes.
    Not now. My stomach churned. I blew out a long breath, laboring to steady my pulse. Unseen eyes watched from the mist. Crackling underbrush and breaking branches sounded close to the entrance. Something lurked in the twilight—something big.
    “There are a few strays around. By the way, I’m—”
    “Trent Donovan. Yeah, I know.”
    His gave me a wolfish smile. “You asked about me?”
    “Well if you aren’t Trent, then you’re trespassing…” Heat spread across my cheeks and for once I was glad it was dark. “…and I was curious about your house. Not actually about you.”
    “Uh-huh.” He folded his arms across his chest. Correction—very muscular chest.
    Shadows scurried closer, whispering from inside the fog. Born of matter and night, evinced in solid and shade. Little fiends, little hounds. They covered the ground like spilled ink.
    Suddenly the world was draped in an eddying, weaving gray fog. Winds became sharper, colder. It numbed my face. Things within the murky haze slithered along the sides of the entrance. Faint screams of lost souls penetrated the night. Dozens of shadowy corpses surrounded us. Ashen, skeletal bodies—flickered, bones protruding in their spectral cheekbones—stared with wide, empty eyes. Fear fluttered in my chest, but I flicked my scarred hand at them in a silent warning to stay back. They whooshed off in different directions, except one.
      “You live in Whispering Pines?” Trent asked.
    He was fascinating and gorgeous. A face as flawless as a fashion model. A body tall and lean. Muscular and robust. I suddenly felt ugly and awkward standing next to such perfection.
    Distracted by the shadows and the fog, I hesitated to answer. Restlessly, I swung my purse back and forth and forced my gaze to meet his. “Yes. Unfortunately.”
    I wasn’t that surprised when the remaining ghost materialized. A woman with dark hair flying wildly into her translucent face. She floated toward us in her dirty dress. Her eyes fierce. Sapphire flames.
    My arms were limp and weak at my sides. Trembles racked my body.
    Trent tilted his head, his emerald gaze found mine. “You look kinda spooked.”
    “I’m not…it’s just super dark out here.” I shuffled closer to the illumination of the ground lights lining the driveway. I stood inches from the open gate. Cautious. Nervous about passing through the opening. What will happen if I step through it? Cross to the other side? My gaze roved, flicking once to the wraith. Then to Trent’s face. Back to the