Free Shades of Midnight by Linda Winstead Jones

chances every day of his life! And she'd allowed him to force her out of that room, as surely as if he'd picked her up and carried her!
    A voice, Lucien's and yet not Lucien's drifted to her through the closed door.
    "That's it," she said, taking the key and inserting it into the lock. "I'm not going to stand here and... and do nothing!"
    She threw open the door to find Lucien sitting in a wide, padded chair that had been placed in the middle of the room. His head rotated slowly as she entered the room. He smiled at her. That was not Lucien's smile.
    "Well, hello," he said, his deep voice colored by a Georgia accent. Lucien's own voice was usually more clipped, more precise and with a hint of New York, where he'd been born. "Aren't you a pretty one?"
    Eve's eyes widened. She held her breath. She'd heard that before his marriage, Alistair had been somewhat of a ladies' man, a charmer. Apparently that was true. She was rarely called pretty, and even then... it was usually her aunt who made that kind observation, or perhaps one of her cousins. "Hello, Mr. Stamper," she said when she found her breath again.
    He lifted a hand and motioned for Eve to come closer. Against her better judgment, she did. She had seen Lucien channel a spirit before, several times, and it never ceased to amaze her. Lucien was here, and yet he was not. Alistair Stamper was dead and had been for thirty years, and yet he was present in this time and place. When she stood beside the chair, Lucien... Alistair... reached out and took her wrist in his hand.
    "You're so warm," he said softly, a hint of longing in his voice. "I miss... warmth. There are times of reliving and remembering when the warmth seems almost to be there, but this... this is good and real and alive." His fingers rocked over her wrist as his smile faded completely. "Viola isn't warm anymore. She hasn't been warm for a long time. She's punishing me, I suppose, taking away the warmth I crave. Coming to me and then... running away when I call to her."
    A chill worked down Eve's spine as Alistair continued to caress her wrist. Lucien's fingers were warm, but she also felt a hint of the spirit's coldness, as if a touch of cold air manacled her.
    "Perhaps Viola has good reason to run from you," she said, trying to make her voice steady.
    "I tried to tell her I'm sorry," he whispered. "She won't listen to me."
    "She's afraid of you," Eve said softly, making an effort to keep her voice even. Her own fear was very real at the moment. She knew Lucien would never hurt her; she could not be so sure about Alistair.
    "I gave her no reason to be afraid," he said angrily, the grip at her wrist tightening. "I just made one small mistake!"
    "Murder is not a small mistake," Eve said.
    Lucien's head snapped up, and the eyes that glared at Eve were not those of the man she loved. They were darker. They were the eyes of a stranger. "Murder?"
    Something sharp shot through Eve. At first she thought it was a knife, that she'd been stabbed in the back just as Viola had been, thirty years ago. But the pain faded quickly and she was filled with a strange sensation, as if light became substance and flooded her entire body.
    Eve was no longer alone in her own body. Viola was with her, inside her, a part of her. She experienced the spirit's fear, and confusion, and love as if they were her own. Most of all, she felt love.
    "Viola," Alistair whispered, seeing, sensing, or feeling the presence of his wife in Eve. A wry smile crossed his face, the grip on her wrist gentled.
    Now Eve knew why Lucien didn't stand. Having Viola's spirit inside her weakened her considerably. Her legs began to buckle, and as if he knew what she was feeling and that she was about to fall, Lucien pulled her onto his lap. She dropped there gratefully.
    "Why?" Eve whispered, and the question was not her own.
    Lucien's fingers traced her jawline, brushed her cheek, trailed down her throat. "How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? I couldn't help