Free The Haunted Sultan (Skeleton Key) by Gillian Zane, Skeleton Key

would a movie. Nothing this horrible could be real.
    Owen pulled back the curtains and looked out into night. The sun had set and there were gas lanterns burning across the street. They were still in the past.
    “I think this is just another reality, the reality after everyone was killed.”
    “This is horrible.” She went to step over a small female strewn across the floor and she missed, slipping in the woman’s blood. Owen grabbed for her to steady her. She was staring at her toes, her open sandals were now coated in blood. “I can’t…” She rushed to the side and began to vomit. It took everything in Owen’s reserves not to join her. His senses were overwhelmed, but he was still thinking rationally, he was still holding it together. He had to. If not for him, for Sierra. If he broke down there would be no going back. He was displaced and confused. This was some sort of alternate reality. He had to stay focused to get them out of here. Everything would be okay.
    This wasn’t real.
    It was real. A long time ago. But not now. Not real now.
    Sierra was done being sick. She straightened up and wiped at her mouth, her eyes were dim. She was in shock. No one could process these atrocities. Owen dug a pack a gum out of his jeans pocket and handed Sierra a piece. She took it and nodded gratefully. Was he sick to still be attracted to her? Was it the spell, he asked himself?
    “How do we get out of here?”
    “I think we have to do what we intended, help them and then we’ll be able to leave,” he replied. It was the only logical ending to this mess.
    “Then I guess we have to figure out how to help,” she said, her back straight, her eyes determined.

Chapter 11
    S ierra felt her brain slowly come back into focus. Before she had felt drugged, sluggish, out of it. She didn’t want to think about what she had done with Owen. The things they had done together. How intense it had been.
    He had to be right about the lust thing. They were spelled or something. She would never have acted that way. Granted, it had felt good, she had never experienced anything even close to what they had done together, but it had been influenced by something. Something that scared the crap out of her.
    She looked at her feet. They were coated in the blood of the pretty serving girl. Something glinted from underneath a pillow and she kicked it aside to reveal a scimitar. She picked it up and gripped it in her hand, it felt good there. She didn’t know if ghosts could be taken out with a blade, but it was better than nothing.
    Owen nodded in agreement, it was a good idea to find protection. He looked around the room and saw the other fallen guard. He tried to tug the blade from the guard’s hand, which seemed harder to do than expected. It was stuck and all he managed to do was shake the big man’s body, what was left of it at least. He shook the man’s hand harder, but still the guard’s dead fingers stayed stuck around the blade.
    Sierra knew this was going to screw with her head for eternity. She could see the PTSD lurking around the peripheral of her mind. She went to Owen’s side and kneeled down, even though everything in her screamed not to. She pried the guard’s hand open, finger by finger. They were stiff as a board and she heard cracking as she forced them open. The blade clattered to the ground and she scooped it up and handed it to Owen.
    “Thank you,” he said.
    “Welcome,” she replied out of habit.
    “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he whispered. She looked up and met his eyes surprised. No one had ever said that about her before. There was blood smeared across his chest and up both his arms. He looked like a deranged psychopath, but she couldn’t help but notice how fit he was, how muscular his chest and arms were. She remembered his chest flexing over her as he pounded into her again and again. She felt the tug of lust pull her away, into that other reality and she shook her head to stay