Reflections

By Rynne Raines

What is an untamable rake to do after being cursed to suffer a fate unknown to man; to experience solitude in the deepest sense of the word? Watch and wait.

As a silent observer in a world he is no longer part of, Rykel Deveau has entertained himself by becoming engrossed in the lives of the living. Society has changed in two hundred years—more importantly, women have changed.

Now, over two centuries later, Rykel finds himself forced to share his living quarters with the most unusual female he has ever come across, sensual artist, Danica Lovel. Between the woman's hideous tattered bathrobe and unsightly pink slippers, he should be appalled, yet bizarrely, he finds himself strongly drawn to her. He wants her. The problem is, she has no idea he exists.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rynne Raines
• Release date: Dec 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465793478

Rynne Raines

Author of FictionWise Erotic Bestseller, LEGALLY BOUND. Rynne writes Erotic & Paranormal Romance. Like a little kink with your coffee? Check out the offerings from this author.

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REFLECTIONS

By

Rynne Raines

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY

Rynne Raines on Smashwords

REFLECTIONS

COPYRIGHT © 2008 by Rynne Raines

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Adult Reading Material

*****

RELFECTIONS

*****

He woke with a start. Fiery beams of light streamed through the lace curtains and bounced off the glass of the Regency giltwood mirror. Sunset, Rykel Deveau realized with a silent groan. Centuries of isolation had dulled even the simplest of joys. With a resigned sigh, Rykel watched the sun’s final rays dance along his reflective prison.

What would this make it now...two-hundred, three years and forty-six days?

Ha! Don’t be a fool...it’s only been two-hundred, three years and forty-five days.

Bloody hell, even his mind mocked him now. True, after such a long time he should have been glad that he had his wits about at all...but he wasn’t. Only one thing would make him happy: to have his freedom back. Peering around the room, Rykel found himself cringing. Clothes and dirty dishes were scattered about the floor, nightstand and bed. Clearly, the Lady of the manor hadn’t found anything to improve her mood since yesterday. The place was in ruins.

A sudden muffled mumble gained his attention. Ah, so she was home. No doubt she was in the loft, sculpting, given that was all the woman ever did these days. Not that it bothered him. He actually admired her dedication and found it intriguing how one could take a lump of mud and transform it into a sensual masterpiece. Miss Lovel had talent; he would give her that. Perhaps he should peek at her work tonight.

With that, he cleared his mind, divided his thoughts from his physical self, and stepped out of the mirror. Of course, now he was no better than a bloody ghost roaming about the house, but it gave him some sense of freedom. Had he not stumbled upon this little trick a century ago, he would be mad from boredom now.

He ascended the winding staircase and noted that the chaos in the bedroom was nothing compared to the rest of the house. He dodged several socks and a few pairs of shoes along the way as the mumbling grew louder. Oh, Danica Lovel was home all right, and in a fouler mood the ever.

I just can’t! No, even better, I won’t!

Rykel arched a brow at the woman’s firm exclamation as he entered the loft. Silly little dove. It had taken him nearly a month to get used to the habitual conversations she often had with inanimate objects. This time her companion appeared to be an invitation of some sort. He rounded the table, then loomed over the woman’s petite frame and spied the inscription. A benefit was taking place tonight at the Manhattan gallery where her work was on display. Between the tattered pink robe and her favorite giant, pig-shaped slippers that oinked when she walked, he drew his own conclusion. She had no intention of attending.

Ugh! She let out a fierce growl.

Her arms flew up in frustration and Rykel ducked out of instinct. Even if she were to make contact, her limbs would have passed through him. Unfortunately, she could not touch him in this form. No one could.

She continued to mutter. "Seeing him with her,