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God! Rick was right, I should never have stayed up all night watching horror movies. Cinthya dismissed the monsters and ghouls of the previous night from her mind and concentrated on locating the room where she was supposed to find her mystery caller. A sag in the weathered wood of the floor creaked in the hollow corridor. She bit her bottom lip to prevent any sound from escaping. Her hammering heartbeat gradually subsided, and she felt some of the fear-induced dizziness pass. A chill rippled through her, though, when she realized she was staring up at the shadowy ceiling, her eyes drawn to the vast network of cobwebbing that had been woven over the years. It looked like wisps of cotton, stretched to the point of breaking, except that this thready cloak was dulled with years of dust and grime. A distinct thud at the other end of the long hallway had her heading in that direction without taking the time to consider her actions. She was several doors away from the room she was supposed to be looking for when she was grabbed from behind. There was no chance to fight off her attacker, and she cursed herself as she was dragged into a room and flung into a chair. Her hands were tied securely behind the high chair back, and her feet were bound to the legs of the seat…

ALSO BY DENYSE M. BRIDGER 1-900-SURPRISE! Alchemy Any Other Way Blood Wine And Pale Roses Bound The Darkest Place Dayne Destiny Met Dream Sequence Heart Of Stone The Hunt Masquerade Mavericks Mirage Out Of Hell Perdition The Phantom’s Lair Rogues A Safer Haven Silent Death Sky-Hawke Storm-Singer The Taste Of Seduction An Unspoken Betrayal Western Knights Whom Gods Have Favored Winner Take All A World In Darkness

BOUND BY DENYSE M. BRIDGER

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

BOUND AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2005 by Denyse M. Bridger ISBN 1-59279-408-4 Cover Art © 2005 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

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Cinthya Wilton felt her nerves tingling as she made her way into the derelict building. There were legends about this ancient hotel, and the reports of hauntings numbered in the hundreds over the fifty years since it had been abandoned for no reason anyone could remember. If Rick Cudahee found out she’d stepped foot in the place, she’d be hearing about it for days. Rick loved her, but he wasn’t above lecturing her if she did things he classified as idiotic. The problem was, she frequently did things that fell into that category. Cinthya’s curiosity was one of her biggest character flaws, and she was fully aware of it. She simply couldn’t quell it often enough. She found her smile flickering when she recalled how often Rick had told her that particular trait was going to get her in serious trouble one day. Hopefully not today. But this was another example of that insatiable inquisitiveness overriding good sense. The old Mayfair was a monument to another era, and its grandeur had long faded. In spite of 1

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that, there was an undeniable ambiance in the place. She swallowed hard and went past the dusty desk, all senses strained and alert. Her heartbeat grew louder with each step she took toward the staircase that would put her on the third floor, where the room she’d been told to find was located. The old hotel was eerie in the approaching darkness, and she was finding it difficult to hold onto her resolve to do this without calling Rick. There’d been a weird message on the machine when she got home—something about discovering a secret she needed to know. The voice had sounded slightly familiar, although she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. There’d also been just enough mystique in the vague words to arouse her interest. The entire situation—the call and her coming here to this deserted hotel—reminded her of something she’d heard of once, but her efforts to pull it from memory hadn’t been remotely successful. She should know better than this. She couldn’t escape the twinge of conscience that reminded her how often she played out of her league. When her father had retired from the Agency and started his own private investigation business, he’d thought his daughter would be safe from the ghosts of his violent past. More than once, though, Cinthya had paid for the deeds and decisions of Joshua Wilton’s previous career. This could well be another such set up, and here she was walking right into it. All she had in the way of reassurance that she wasn’t about to get herself killed, kidnapped, or worse, was the deeply rooted intuition that this wasn’t what it appeared. That the vague sense of familiarity she felt implied she’d be safe. Her relationship with Rick wasn’t a point of reassurance either in the creaking darkness of the forsaken hotel. It was with Joshua’s very reluctant blessing that his twenty-year-old daughter had stepped into a loving relationship with his business partner, the shadowy, 2

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sophisticated, and lethal Rick Cudahee. The more than ten year age difference was only the first objection her father had voiced when Cinthya had been forced by her own conscience to open up to him— conscience, and the undeniable need to share her happiness with the other most important person in her life. Rick’s recent decision to leave private investigations and re-enter the life of an active Company operative set up an entirely new array of potential dangers for Cinthya. A risk she was more than willing to take, but not something that lessened the worry her father and Rick still felt. Cinthya couldn’t help but wonder what either Rick or her dad would have to say about her accepting a cryptic message to meet an unspecified contact, alone, in an abandoned building. She leapt back in fright when something clingy and feather-light brushed against her face. With a cry of disgust, she batted away the filmy cobwebs and peered into the shadowy stairwell. She was on the second floor; only one more flight and then she’d have to find room 313. Against her will, some of the things she’d heard about this old wreck of a building began to pop into her head. Some people claimed the Mayfair Hotel was haunted, and those who lived in the area could tell endless stories about “sightings” and other mysterious events in the ancient edifice. Another shudder ran the length of her spine when she heard skittering near her feet. Rats! The place had to be infested with rats. She glanced around, her breath held, as she searched the growing darkness for the beady red eyes she was sure she’d find watching her. There was nothing staring at her from the blackness of the corners, and she sagged against the wall as she gasped for air. God! Rick was right, I should never have stayed up all night watching horror movies. He’d consented to sit through the original version of The Phantom 3

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Of The Opera—he deemed that particular film “a classic”—but Cinthya had been on her own after that. It had been nearing daybreak when she’d finally crawled into bed—and about another thirty seconds before she flew out again, tripping in the sheets and falling flat on her face. Rick had almost fallen out of bed himself from laughing at her. His unexpected grab had gotten a much better reaction than he’d hoped for. He was still laughing when he left the apartment earlier this afternoon. Cinthya dismissed the monsters and ghouls of the previous night from her mind and concentrated on locating the room where she was supposed to find her mystery caller. A sag in the weathered wood of the floor creaked in the hollow corridor. She bit her bottom lip to prevent any sound from escaping. Her hammering heartbeat gradually subsided, and she felt some of the fear-induced dizziness pass. A chill rippled through her, though, when she realized she was staring up at the shadowy ceiling, her eyes drawn to the vast network of cobwebbing that had been woven over the years. It looked like wisps of cotton, stretched to the point of breaking, except that this thready cloak was dulled with years of dust and grime. A distinct thud at the other end of the long hallway had her heading in that direction without taking the time to consider her actions. She was several doors away from the room she was supposed to be looking for when she was grabbed from behind. There was no chance to fight off her attacker, and she cursed herself as she was dragged into a room and flung into a chair. Her hands were tied securely behind the high chair back, and her feet were bound to the legs of the seat. The room was pitch black, and she tried to force her eyes to adjust by keeping them closed. She let out a gasp of protest when she felt a blindfold being tied around her head. For a moment, the sensation of silk distracted her thoughts; the smooth feel of the material against her skin was actually soothing. Her captor chose not to gag her, but Cinthya knew it would be futile to yell anyway. She’d be considered 4

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one of the hotel ghosts, if anyone heard her at all—not much of a chance in this neighborhood. “What’s going on? Who are you?” That was brilliant! she chided herself. There was no reply, and she strained to identify the sound as she caught the distinct rasp of a match being struck. She could smell the hint of burning wood, then the stronger odor of candle wax. Oh, shit! Some nut was setting fire to the crumbling hotel, and she was going to go down with it! She opened her mouth, then decided against it when she realized she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Pleading with whomever was doing this wouldn’t get her very far. Visions of flames running through the old building, devouring it, began to fill her mind with genuine fear. She felt the movement more than she actually heard it, and her heartbeat threatened to deafen her when she felt someone standing over her. “What do you want?” She winced at the unmistakable quiver in her voice, then jumped when she felt hands being placed on the back of the chair, close to her shoulders. She opened her mouth again but never uttered a sound as her lips were covered with a warm, gentle kiss. Recognition left her weak and shaking as she answered the thrust of her lover’s tongue. The caress was sensual and provocative, leaving Cinthya breathless and excited when it finally ended minutes later. “What took you so long, honey?” Rick whispered, his breath soft against Cinthya’s lips. “Take the blindfold off and untie me,” Cinthya said, a tiny flare of irritation working into her tone when she realized she’d walked blithely into an elaborate joke. Rick wasn’t going to let her live this one down for some time, of that much she was certain. Rick complied with part of her entreaty. He removed the silk blindfold, took a few steps backward, then settled on the edge of a 5

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dusty bed to watch Cinthya’s face. He grinned broadly as she looked around, eyes wide. Candles were the only light in the room, casting flickering shadows over walls that were stained and scarred with age. Rick couldn’t help but think she was getting off easy in not being able to see just how badly decayed the old hotel was. “Are you going to untie me now?” Cinthya asked, once her eyes had made their sweep of the room and come to rest again on him. “It might be more interesting if I didn’t,” he said, unable to hide his amusement. “Rick! C’mon, cut it out. Untie me. Please?” She added the last with a smile—the wide-eyed one that generally got her anything she wanted from him. But tonight he decided to stay immune to this particular ploy. “Why should I?” he countered, smiling with enough humor to guarantee the pretty blonde’s annoyance. “You had no idea what might have been waiting for you in this dump, did you? But you strolled in anyway. Did it ever occur to you that you could easily get yourself killed?” Despite the joking aspects to his “kidnapping,” Rick was genuinely concerned about how easy it had been to lure her into the setup. Cinthya recognized the edge in his tone, and decided to keep her mouth shut. It was difficult to argue with him when he was right, even more so when she was tied to a chair at his mercy. “Are you going to let me out of this chair, now that you’ve made your point?” Rick seemed to consider the idea, then his grin returned. “What makes you think I’ve made my point?” “What?” His smile took on a wickedness that made Cinthya squirm in her restraints. Dropping to his knees in front of his prize, he placed his hands on her thighs. Her eyes locked on his hands, following them as they glided 6

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over the smooth silk of her stockings and disappeared beneath her soft, well-worn denim skirt. “You wouldn’t,” she gasped when Rick’s fingers hooked in the waistband of her pantyhose. He tugged them down to her knees. He’d have to untie her later to finish getting rid of them. “Rick!” “Wouldn’t what?” he asked absently, his hands moving to pull her shirt free of the skirt’s waistband. He opened the buttons of Cinthya’s blouse, then pushed the material aside to reveal an enticing expanse of flawless, smooth skin. Her breasts were barely contained within the low-cut cups of her push-up bra. “You’re not—” Cinthya’s protest ended abruptly when he leaned forward to cover her mouth with another deep, probing kiss. Her tongue flicked at his, and the caress became a hungry demand. She eased forward in an effort to increase the persuasive pressure on his lips. Rick released her for a second and smiled into her eyes. “Let me go. I want to… touch you.” Cinthya stumbled on the words—she always tended to shyness when they tried anything new— but his hypnotic dark eyes drew the truth out of her. Rick claimed her trembling mouth again as his hands tangled in the thick gold of her hair, drawing her into another searing kiss. His body was stirring already, her shaky admission creating an undeniable ache that made him realize just how badly he wanted her touch. He let his hands slip through silky hair, then skim over slender shoulders, baring them completely to his exploring caresses as he pushed her jacket and blouse out of his path. When his fingertips whispered over her laceencased breasts, he felt the shiver in her lithe muscles. He tugged at the edge of the cups, drawing the material down to free the already taut buds of her nipples, teasing them into fully erect hardness. He finally broke the intense kiss and heard the gasp that escaped her. The gasp that quickly became a shuddering moan when he closed his mouth over 7

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one pebbled nipple. Cinthya tugged at the bonds that held her immobile in the chair and twitched in a spasm of reaction when Rick’s teeth bit lightly at the tip of her sensitive nipple. He’s not going to do this to me here, she told herself. Not tied to a chair. That’s a little too weird. But, even as she acknowledged the idea, she felt a perverse thrill of excitement bolt through her at the thought. “Rick?” He drew away from his seductive tormenting and looked up into eyes that had gone soft and drowsy, matching the breathless whisper of her voice. He saw the change in her, the tantalizing intrigue of what she was feeling, and his smile became indolent. He caught her soft lips with his and was rewarded with the eager thrust of Cinthya’s tongue plunging into his mouth. After long minutes, he eased back and watched as her chest heaved in the effort to breathe evenly. The steady rising and falling motion spilled her lush breasts farther out of the bra, inviting him to slip the clasp and let the garment fall away from her. Cinthya had barely recovered her breath when Rick leaned into her again, his lips finding the sensitive curve of her neck. He could feel the tension building in her shoulders as his tongue traced the hard ridge of her collarbone, then stopped to play over the curve of her throat when she tilted her head back in silent request. Her hands unconsciously knotted into fists as she strained against the restriction, her fingers tingling with the desire to touch Rick. She arched closer to him, encouraging his caresses as her entire body flooded with familiar passion. She shuddered when his large, remarkably gentle hands dropped to her hips and eased them toward him. She slid forward as much as her position would allow, her stomach fluttering in anticipation of his touch. Rick stared into her face, enjoying the softness that always came into her smooth features when they made love. The faint flush of 8

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longing that colored her pale skin was evident even in the shadowy candlelight. She shivered, her body caught up in the tide of desire. He settled back on his heels and waited for the huge blue eyes to focus on him. “You seem a little breathless, sweetheart,” he observed with a smug smile. She tried to glare at him, but the expression was more like a plea than a wordless retort. Her body shook from the excitement that clearly coursed through her. “Untie me?” she pleaded. Rick considered the request. He could feel responsive ripples of passion in his own body, but he was far from ready to allow her to see it. After a reflective silence, he nodded. Going down on his knees in front of her, he tugged at the scarves he’d used to tie her ankles. She surprised him when she hooked a leg around his waist and pulled him forward. He complied with the demand, a soft chuckle escaping him before he captured her eager mouth another time. He let his hands slide down her sides, then he traced the denim waistband to the front and gave the snap a tug. The zipper began to slide down and her hips moved toward his hand. “Getting a bit anxious, Cindi?” he teased, his tongue moving to trace the curve of her ear. “Rick, please.” Cinthya heard the tremor in her voice become more pronounced as Rick’s lips brushed soft kisses over her face. “Relax,” he murmured, his hands sliding into the waist of her skirt. He moved her hips forward so she was hardly touching the chair, then he eased the denim off, his fingers hooking into her pantyhose and underwear and taking them, too. The shock of the cool chair against her bare skin sent another shiver through Cinthya. But, before she could recover completely, Rick had 9

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her clothes off and was halfway through tying her ankles back to the legs of the chair, this time to the back legs, leaving her thighs spread wide. Her heartbeat doubled when his fingers began a slow, barely perceptible pattern of caressing the full length of her legs, starting at the back of her ankles and gradually moving upward. The room actually did a crazy spin on her when Rick bent his head and started following the path of his roaming hands with his lips. Cinthya squirmed with renewed urgency as she tried to free herself from the surprisingly strong bonds. Rick’s tongue barely touched the wet folds between her legs, but the feather-like contact created a spasm of reaction in her. She shuddered and gasped, the sound becoming a tiny moan when he repeated the gesture with a slow, lingering sensuality. Then he leaned back to look up into her eyes. “Why…” She wasn’t even sure what it was she wanted to ask as the words got caught in another trembling twitch. His fingers were smoothing gentle touches on the inner part of her thighs. “Because I love you, Cindi,” he answered around a huge smile, supplying his own meaning to the gasped query. She looked down to watch his hand brushing over the dark gold thatch of hair that dipped between her thighs, and she tried to thrust into the contact. Frustration played through her when he refused to accommodate her. “Rick? Do you think maybe you could love me a little faster?” The words were expelled like a choked breath of air, and her face warmed with the heat of her embarrassment, as well as her passion. “How fast are you thinking, sweetheart?” His grin was on the verge of dissolving into laughter. His finger finally delving deep into her wet heat effectively cut off any attempt at an answer, and her hips again shifted into his touch. He probed deeper into her and started a slow, gentle rhythm, his own 10

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breath becoming noticeably strained when her head fell back and her lips parted with a breathy sigh. Rick stilled the motion of his hand after several minutes of slow, steady stroking, and waited for her dazed eyes to find his in the growing shadows of the ancient hotel room. The candles were burning low and in the soft glow of fading light, Cindi’s hair shone like burnished gold. Blue eyes found his and she stared at him, shaking uncontrollably, her expressive features filled with longing. Rick kissed her lips, then lowered his head until he was able to push his tongue into the warmth that had been occupied moments before by his finger. He heard the catch in her already too-fast breathing as he let his tongue glide over the swollen folds, then probe into her again. The erotic torture evoked a desperate moan from her. For a couple of minutes he allowed a tentative rhythm to build, then slowly eased away from her again. “R-R-Rick…” Cinthya’s objection to the withdrawal was lost as another shudder shook her entire body. Rick sat back on his heels and watched the agitation and frustration filter through to her stare as she finally made eye contact with him. He smiled and rose to his feet again, feeling a noticeable weakness in his own legs as his eyes swept over the aroused and very excited form of his lover. “You wouldn’t mind if I fixed a drink, would you, Cindi?” Her mouth opened, but nothing came out except a gasp of air. The look of pure astonishment was priceless, and he was certain he’d never forget it. Taking the lack of verbal objection as an affirmative, Rick moved to one of the old dressers and opened the bottle of whiskey he’d placed there. He poured a generous drink, using the time to get his own body back under control, then he went back to the edge of the bed. He sat and cast an inquiring gaze at her. “Can I get you anything, honey?” 11

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Cinthya groaned and glared at him. She tried again to pull out of the restraints that bound her, but once more she was forced to settle back and wait for him to make the next move. He took a long, appreciative swallow of his whiskey, then got to his feet and strolled toward her. He bent down to kiss her parted lips, letting his tongue linger on her lush bottom one before slipping into her mouth. She sucked his tongue deeper, tasting the hint of whiskey on his lips. Rick held her head cupped in one palm as the breath-stealing caress stretched over several minutes. He withdrew slowly, his eyes still locked with hers. He raised the glass to his lips again and took another drink, his expression thoughtful. Stroking her soft golden hair, he bent close to her ear, his voice barely above a whisper, and said, “Y’know, darling, you’re really lucky I planned this so well. You could have walked into something terrible here and gotten yourself into trouble. You didn’t even have a weapon of any kind in case things did get out of hand. Did you?” “All things, considered, Rick, where do you think I might have hidden it?” She looked down at herself, then back up into his dark eyes. “Maybe I’ll have to do a more thorough search?” She wasn’t listening much to the actual words. Rick’s soft, throaty voice was like a rough caress along her spine, and she closed her eyes as she turned her head toward his. He met the mouth that sought his, then let his lips traveled to the inviting curve of her neck when she arched enticingly. “Let me loose, Rick?” she breathed, her words choked and thick with emotion. “I can’t stand much more of this.” He stepped back and finished off the last of his drink. Once he’d deposited the empty glass on the dresser and returned to her, he dropped to his knees again. The smile on his face was still gentle but with an impish tilt. His fingers skimmed over her knees, then whispered up her thighs.. 12

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Her head fell back and her breath became a choked gasp when his touch drifted once more into the silky hair at her apex, then dipped lower again to burrow into her wetness. The slick sound of his fingers moving in and out of her only heightened Cinthya’s desire, and she grew even wetter. He continued to caress her, but still wouldn’t allow her to climax. Rick saw the sheen of sweat that filmed Cindi’s curvaceous body. The faint candlelight gave her firm, contoured muscles a shimmering glow. He let his gaze wander over her and felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw her struggle to breathe past her desperate passion. He decided he’d deprived himself of her touch long enough. He withdrew his hand and lowered his head to the weeping heat between her legs. Her hips moved closer to him as he began the rhythm that would give her the release she wanted so badly. Her back arched as he sucked long and hard on her throbbing clitoris. Rick felt her tense as the rush of her release crested within her. A moment later, her delayed orgasm shuddered through her with a violence that left her panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she fought to breathe through the exquisite torture. He rested his head on her thigh, trying to calm his own breathing. Then, dropping his hands to her ankles, he untied the silk scarves that bound her. He placed a light kiss on her quivering mouth, then reached around her and gave the bonds on her wrists a tug that freed them. Her arms slipped around him instantly as she buried her head against his shoulder. Rick eased the blonde head back and kissed the corner of each closed eye, the damp salty taste warm on his lips. “You okay, honey?” He pulled back enough to see the glitter of tears in her dazed blue eyes, and felt a twinge of guilt at his prolonged torment. “C’mon, Cindi.” He stood and held out his hand. Cinthya looked up at him, her chest still aching from the passionate tortures Rick had just inflicted on her. Now slightly irritated, she 13

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ignored his outstretched hand and got to her feet. To her embarrassment, her knees gave out and she fell into his arms. Rick laughed softly as she nestled into his neck. The room did a weird tilt on her when he picked her up and headed back into the darkened corridor. “Where are we going?” The words were a rasping whisper, and she snuggled closer into his strong shoulder. “Room 313. You have an appointment to keep, remember?” he teased, his own voice a little rougher than usual. Rick gave the door a light kick and carried her into the room, then headed for the bed. He placed her on the soft mattress and stood back to read her reaction to the surroundings. She stared up at the canopy that hung above them, her eyes widening at the wispy film of artificial cob-webbing that stretched from one end of the huge bed to the other. She could see spiders and bats trapped in the cottony blanket. She grinned at Rick, then let her gaze continue to wander, her eyes growing larger with each discovery. The room was alive with candles, long, graceful tapers of orange and black. She laughed when she saw snowy white ghosts with glow-in-the-dark eyes suspended throughout the room. A huge jack-o-lantern leered at her from the top of a dresser, and bats with ruby eyes peered at her from the corners. She brushed a hand over the cool surface of the bed— silk sheets, rich, blood red against the heavy black velvet of the coverlet. The draperies surrounding the monstrous four-poster were of the same luxurious velvet, again in midnight black. She sat in the center of the bed and laughed in sheer delight. On the bedside table was a large crystal and silver bucket held between two hands. Nestled inside the ice-laden container was a bottle of champagne. Black-stemmed flutes stood next to the ornate bucket. “When did you do all this?” Cinthya asked, lifting the bedding so she could snuggle between the silk sheets. She shivered and let out a sigh of pleasure at the cool touch of the material on her bare skin. 14

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“The past couple of days,” Rick said with a grin. He began peeling off his own clothes, slowly, as she watched his every movement with eager eyes. The undisguised appreciation in her gaze created a shiver of anticipation in Rick and he felt his stomach tense as he approached her. “I like your idea of Halloween parties,” she murmured as she slid over to the edge of the bed. Rick was standing beside her, working on the champagne cork, and she reached out to give his semi-erect cock a caress. The gasp her touch evoked pleased her, and she closed her fingers around the responsive shaft, feeling it become rigid and ready in her hand. Rick set the bottle of sparkling wine back into the ice and turned to the bed. He raked his fingers through her tousled blonde hair as she stroked him gently. His knees trembled when she leaned forward and guided the straining shaft into her mouth. “Cinthya?” She released him and let her tongue tease over Rick’s balls, flicking lightly when his breath became quick and shaky. His hands tangled in her hair as her mouth slid over him again. She shifted into a more comfortable position on the edge of the bed, closed her eyes, and glided her tongue over Rick’s erection, each stroking caress getting another shiver of response from him. His hold on her tightened and she felt the careful thrust of his hips. She complied with the request, and drew him deeper into her mouth, slowly increasing the pressure of her sucking. As his release rushed over him, more quickly than he would have anticipated, Rick realized her torment had done its share to keep him in a state of arousal, too. He shuddered into his climax, choking with the desperate need for breath that eluded him. His legs felt as if they were going to buckle, and he leaned forward to grip the edge of the bed. Cinthya ran her hands through the fall of fine, dark brown hair that obscured Rick’s face, and kissed his forehead as she pulled him onto 15

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the bed. She lay back on the silk sheets and stroked his hair and shoulders as he stretched out beside her, resting his head in the center of her chest. They stayed that way for a long time. Rick stirred first, raising his head to look into the soft blue of her eyes. She was watching him, her face lit by a gentle smile. “You seemed a little breathless,” she observed with an innocent mischief that never failed to charm him. He grinned, his expression rapidly taking some of the smugness out of her smirk. He moved higher in the bed, then leaned over her, catching both her hands in a loose grip and holding them above her head. “Look around you, honey. This bed has four posts. That could be interesting, don’t you think?” She shook her head and broke the light hold as she squirmed away from her lover and put a couple of feet between them. “No way!” she protested wholeheartedly. “I’m not going through that again.” Rick feigned a hurt expression. “I thought it was fun,” he said, the pretend hurt fading into genuine amusement again. She laughed, still managing to stay out of his grasp. “When did you start getting into this kinky shit?” She backed up a little on the silky sheets and found her back had just met the solid resistance of the headboard. Rick’s grin set her heart racing as she wondered how quickly she could escape the room. “Kinky?” Rick considered the concept as he inched toward her, enjoying the wariness in her wide eyes as she tried to maintain a distance that was closing quickly. He made a lunge for her and had her enfolded in an embrace as he rolled with her. She ended up straddled across his hips, staring down at him. “Maybe I should tie you up and see how you like it?” she suggested. His eyebrows rose in speculative interest. “If you think you can manage it, Cindi…” 16

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The challenge was obvious, but she knew better. She started to slide off him and ended up yelping in surprise when he caught her around the waist and reversed their positions. Rick had her hands trapped and he eased them outward toward the posts at the head of the huge bed. She started squirming in earnest, and Rick laughed as the futility of her protest began to dawn on her. He shifted his hold, and his laughter became more wholehearted when she stared up at him, blue eyes filled with humor and love. “You wouldn’t really do it?” He didn’t miss the note of entreaty in the whispered words and he shook his head, giving in with what he knew was probably suspicious ease. He saw the faint caginess come into her gaze, and he watched as she relaxed beneath him and began to run light caresses over his forearms where they still held her shoulders in a loose grip. “I’m hungry,” she murmured, her tone soft. She glanced around at the elaborately decorated room and her grin widened. “This really is great.” “Watching you in that chair made it more than worthwhile,” Rick noted, thoroughly enjoying the slow spread of scarlet on her features. He released her and slid over to the edge of the bed. He picked up the previously discarded champagne bottle, popped the cork, and poured two glasses. He handed one to her, then reached down to open the door of the bedside table. Her eyes lit up when he handed her the chilled bowl of fruit salad. She settled into a cross-legged seat, placed the bowl in front of her, and promptly plucked a large strawberry from the center of the tempting array of fresh fruit. She decided Rick was forgiven for the bondage routine. “If this is what you do for Halloween, Christmas is going to be wonderful this year!” she remarked, once he’d settled on the bed in front of her. 17

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“And what makes you think you’ll get me to go through this much trouble for you a second time in the same year?” he teased, selecting some of the fruit himself. She plucked the grape from his fingers and leaned over to feed it to him. “Because you love me,” she whispered, popping the grape into his mouth. “We’ll talk, sweetheart.” “The only thing you missed was a fog around the floor.” She grinned as she again let her gaze wander over the room. “I can’t stand the smell of dry ice,” he said, turning her face back to his. “I do love you.” He eased her toward him until their lips met and her arms went around him with natural intimacy. Rick could taste the faint hint of strawberries on her tongue as he melted into the kiss. He drew back after a few minutes and he set the bowl of fruit on the table next to the champagne. He pulled back the sheets and settled on the bed next to her, shivering when she draped one long, shapely leg over his hip and arched into his embrace. It was only a second later when she shifted in his arms and said, “We’re not gonna really sleep here, are we?” Rick glanced around at the decorations and renovations that had taken a sizeable chunk out of his gold card. “I don’t see why not. It’s got all the comforts of home. Except, of course, for a television set. Now you can’t watch any more of your spooky shows.” She yawned and nestled closer. “I think I saw all the horror movies I wanted to see last night.” Another yawn, and she turned onto her back, pulling him over on top of her. “Besides, who says we need to sleep anyway?” “You got better ideas?” “You up to it?” “Oh, you have no idea, darling.” Rick grinned down at her, his eyes lit with an orange glow of reflected candle light. 18

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She watched the deep creases awakened around both eyes with the expression. Rick’s features were softened by the gentle lighting. She couldn’t quite suppress the fleeting moment of melancholy as she realized how much she truly loved this man and how often she feared she would lose him. His well-loved face clouded, then concern moved instantly into his dark brown eyes. “You all right?” he asked. She shook herself out of the brooding moment, and pulled him down and into a long, soul-searing kiss. It lasted long enough for both of them to be gasping slightly when they broke contact, and he searched her face for just a moment to reassure himself. He straddled her supple body, settling down over her hips, his hands running the length of her arms, drawing them up over her head in a slow, lazy stretch, enjoying both the sensation of his own elastic muscles and the sight of the curvaceous, sinfully sexy body stretched out beneath him. “Remember how I told you this bed had four posts?” The mischievous glint was back in his eyes, and she stirred out of her drowsiness long enough to begin to get suspicious. Too late. She felt, rather than heard, the click of metal on one wrist before she could even begin to react. The second wrist was cuffed to the other bed post in nearly the same, fluid motion. That’s it, she thought, Rick wasn’t going on any more overseas assignments. This was just too fucking weird. It was Japan, she knew it. Rick had been there less than a month ago and she had heard all kinds of stories… Her thoughts were interrupted as he sat up across her hips and smiled. In his best Saturday matinee growl, Rick intoned, “Friday the Thirteenth, Part II.” “Rick, you don’t even look the part. Besides, it’s just not scary with you doing it.” “Oh, don’t worry, honey.” His grin became satisfyingly manic. “I’ll 19

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see that it’s scary. The power tools are under the bed.” “Yeah, right!” Cinthya snorted, not the least impressed with the empty threat. She relaxed and tried to appear bored and disinterested, a bit difficult in her vulnerable position. Rick settled back on his heels and remained silent, his eyes locked intently with hers. She waited, certain he’d make some kind of move before long. Minutes passed in total silence, and his expression didn’t change in the slightest, his eyes never left hers. She began to stir beneath him, growing restless as she maintained the unflinching stare. Rick’s eyes seemed to change in the flickering light, losing the loving warmth she was so familiar with, to be replaced by a mildly disturbing blankness. “Rick?” She tried to keep her tone steady, but there was an overt thread of uneasiness in the word. He didn’t move or respond, and she shivered when she realized she hadn’t even seen him blink for the past five minutes. His eyes opened a little wider, giving him a slightly demented look, and he turned his head a little but continued to hold her stare. The shift in position revealed more white to his eyes and she felt a tiny flutter begin in her stomach. The prolonged silence and the growing intensity of Rick’s look was beginning to get to her despite her knowing he was only teasing her. “C’mon, enough already. You haven’t got power tools under the bed and you’re not scaring me—” She stopped speaking abruptly when Rick lunged off the bed and she heard the sound of something creaking above her. Her gaze flew upward and a choked scream escaped her when the cob-webbing rippled and a heavy black bat slipped through a tear in the fine material and landed on her chest with a dull thump. Shit! She shuddered at the feel of the thing, cool and leathery against her skin. She thought the damn things were plastic. “Rick!” 20

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Another reactive yelp of surprise came from her when he leaned over her, his face inches from hers, his expression wild with feigned craziness. He scooped up the bat and promptly bit into it. Then his face split into a huge, very familiar grin as he dropped back onto the bed. He held out the bat and offered her a bite. “Licorice,” he laughed when she made a repulsed face at him. “I thought you liked it?” Her heartbeat was still erratic and loud in her ears as she glowered at him in impotent fury. She was equally enraged at her own response to the teasing, mostly because she should have seen it coming. Rick’s laughter earned him another pointed glare, and she did her best to keep the expression firmly in place when he tossed aside the candy bat and crawled back over her hips to stare down at her. “That was pretty fuckin’ stupid!” Cinthya finally snapped when he placed a hand on either side of her and leaned forward. “Yeah, it was,” he agreed with a smug smirk. “But you did react so beautifully.” “Get off me!” she demanded, yanking at one of the restraints that held her. She looked back at Rick, her face reflecting all the anger she was suddenly feeling. “And get these damn things off me while you’re at it.” He considered the request for a few seconds, then shook his head. “No. I think I like you like this—pissed off and mouthy. Makes your eyes light up.” He ran his hands across her midriff until he was cupping her soft breasts in gentle hands. “Fuck you, Cudahee,” she retorted, her anger going up another notch at the prolonged teasing. “We’re getting to that, I promise,” he murmured, bending over to place a light kiss in the center of her chest. His tongue trailed across to one nipple and flicked at the hard tip for several seconds before he nipped at it with his teeth. His hands glided down her sides to brush 21

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over the curving ridge of hipbones. He could feel the faint tremor of reaction in her body, the response natural despite her irritation. He reached for the glass of champagne he’d left on the night table. “Are you having a good time, Cindi?” he asked, his smile lazy and amused. He sipped at the chilled champagne and waited for her to stop glaring at him. He could see the softening in her stunning sapphire eyes already. “Yeah, this is great,” she said, giving in with a resigned sigh. She knew better than to think she could stay mad once Rick really started to make love to her. His reputation for being a ladies’ man was wellearned, and he had shown Cindi the brightest part of heaven more than once in their time together. She adored him. “This would be a whole lot more fun if I could do more than lie here.” Her complaint was cut off quickly when Rick slid back on her thighs and bent to trickle warmed champagne from his mouth into the hollow of her hip. She twitched in response when he ran his tongue through the tiny pool of liquid. She watched in fascination when he took a long swallow of the cold wine and set the glass aside, then she gasped loudly when he bent and sucked one ripe nipple into his mouth. The lingering chill of the champagne was startling against the heat of her flesh. The trapped bud reacted instantly, hardening in Rick’s mouth as another surge of pleasure bolted through her. Cinthya closed her eyes and let herself experience the sensation of Rick’s mouth growing steadily warmer. She sighed softly when he slid up to settle over her. Her legs tangled with his as she pulled him closer the only way she was able to. “Let me go, Rick, please?” She murmured the words into his mouth when he was about to cover her lips, and he drew back for a moment to look closely at her. She could feel the hardness of his erection against her thigh and she wanted desperately to touch him. Rick leaned on his elbows and let his gaze drink in the image before 22

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him. The candles were flickering soft, shivering touches of illumination, the muted light catching the glow of gold in her fair hair. Pale skin looked like buffed ivory against the background of ruby red silk and shimmering black velvet. Ocean blue eyes softened at the intensity of his expression, and he brushed a lock of blonde hair aside to kiss first her forehead, then her lips in a gentle caress. “I love you, Cindi,” he breathed, voice soft and throaty with the depth of emotion he felt for the woman in his arms. “Make love to me,” she whispered, straining to touch his lips as she made the request. She smiled when his tongue ran across her mouth in a teasing caress. She moved to put her arms around him, temporarily forgetting the restraints that held her hands. The pull of the handcuffs on her wrists made her wince and she gasped as one of the metal bracelets scraped her skin. “You okay?” Rick whispered into her mouth. “That hurt,” she admitted softly, the hint of an idea coming into her mind as she stared up into the genuine concern of his dark eyes. She shifted her position slightly and felt another twinge of pain run along her arms. “Let me go, please?” Rick moved instantly, snapping open the metal cuffs. He hadn’t bothered to lock the things, fully intending to release her anyway. He hated the idea that she’d been caused even a tiny amount of pain by the antic. When he had both arms free, he was suddenly surprised by the twist in her body. She had him pinned effectively seconds later, and Rick couldn’t miss the triumphant grin on her stunning features. “Gotcha!” “You little shit!” he laughed. She was beyond caring as she began to caress the solid, curving muscles of Rick’s chest. She shivered at her own reaction to the sensation of touching him, and sighed with the realization of how much she truly loved the feel of his body. There was strength and power in 23

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the tall, well-built form, and she knew it was no illusion. She knew the taste and feel of every inch of Rick, the exact location of the few scars that marred otherwise smooth skin, and it never ceased to amaze her that her touch could send tremors through him that left him breathless and shaking in her arms. “I love you,” she whispered, then bent her head to his mouth before he could answer. The sudden thrust of his tongue was all the answer she required, and she entwined her tongue with his as their kiss deepened. Her hands began moving again, seeking lower to find the straining hardness of Rick’s cock. She felt the gasp in her mouth when her fingers curled around the rigid shaft and began to stroke slowly. She broke their kiss and her lips immediately closed over the sensitive hollow of his throat, her tongue playing in the smooth curve, enjoying the feel of his soft gasps as her hand moved with greater demand. Rick’s hips rose to answer the easy rhythm of her strokes, and he moaned low in his throat when her mouth trekked after her hands and closed over him. Delicate fingers slipped between his thighs and cupped his balls in a gentle massage, and he thrust into the warm mouth that covered him. He felt the betraying swell of his release beginning, and took a deep breath, then carefully eased her away from him. He was gasping and it took him a couple of minutes to get his breath back. She leaned over him, grin smug and much too cheerful. Rick laughed at the expression and pulled her back to him, shivering again when she met his kiss with an excited hunger that left him searching for breath once again. She shifted to the side and took Rick with her as she rolled onto her back and tangled her legs around his. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and arched into her body with an urgent demand. His mouth released her and he pulled back to kneel between her spread legs. “Pull your knees up, Cindi,” he said, his naturally rough voice now like gravel when he spoke. He moved in closer and braced his thighs 24

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against the back of hers, then he lifted her hips and slid into the tight, familiar warmth, quickly finding a slow, tantalizing rhythm of movement. She saw the ripple of total rapture that crossed Rick’s face when he moved deeper into her, and she watched in wonder at the shudders that shook him. He leaned farther forward, and her spine curved in response to give him freer movement and easier access to her. Another thrust sent him fully into her, and she moaned softly as her head fell back and their rhythms blended into a smooth flow of shared motion. Her body tensed minutes later as her orgasm spasmed through her, her hands still gripping Rick’s solid shoulders. The shuddering climax tightened every muscle in her body and he moaned loudly as his own release poured over him in answer to hers. The tremors continued to pulse through him as he spilled into her and she collapsed back against the pillows. She watched the slow relaxing in his features. It was hardly the first time she’d seen his face as they made love, but it still thrilled her to the core of her being to witness his expressive face softened with so much pleasure that she felt a flutter of renewed excitement in her stomach. Rick pulled his arms from under her legs, but he left her limbs draped on either side of him. Her own breath was easing slowly and she let her eyes close as she fought for control of her heartbeat. A small, almost choked cry escaped her a few minutes later when Rick slipped free of her. She opened her eyes and watched him crawl up beside her and, with a heavy sigh, stretch his body the length of hers. She curled into his arms. “Does the shower work?” she asked a short while later. She felt sticky with sweat and the results of their lovemaking. “No, but you’re gonna love the bathtub,” he murmured in her ear, then kissed her cheek before claiming the slightly parted lips in a loving caress. “C’mon,” he directed, getting out of the bed. 25

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Rick hadn’t been kidding. The bathtub was ancient, one of the huge, deep things with clawed feet at the base of it. He went to it and gave the knob a twist. It was already partially filled with lukewarm water, and it didn’t take long for steam and bubbles to rise as hot water poured in a steady stream, with only mild objections from the long unused pipes. When the tub was full, he held out his hand and she stepped into the foamy warmth. He joined her and they settled at either end to stare at each other with matching expressions of bliss. “We forgot the champagne!” she said. Cinthya started to object when he rose and stepped out of the tub, but he cut her off with a firm kiss. She laughed as she watched him walk back into the room, bubbles clinging to his back and sliding down over his butt. He was back in seconds, fresh glasses of sparkling champagne in hand. He passed one to her and climbed back into the tub. “Happy Halloween, honey,” Rick said. “This really is so much nicer than “scary shit,” wouldn’t you say?” “Yeah, but I could do without the bondage bit,” she tossed back with a grin. “Maybe you could,” he teased, “But I wouldn’t have missed it for anything!” “You’re sick, Rick.” “But you love me.” “But I love you.” Rick finished the glass of champagne in a long swallow and smiled at her. “I’m tired, honey. I think I’m going back to bed. You coming, or do you want to stay here for awhile?” Cinthya nestled deeper into the warm water and shook her head. “I’m gonna soak for about an hour. This feels wonderful. Almost as good as you,” she added with a quirky smile. He nodded, got up again, and reached for one of the plush black 26

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bath towels that had been placed in the room. He was conscious of her heated gaze watching his every movement as he dried off and tossed the towel onto the vanity. The fire in her eyes when he glanced down at her almost made him haul her out of the tub, but he figured it could wait until later. He bent to kiss her, completely unsurprised by the hunger he felt in the caress as her tongue invaded his mouth to probe deeply. “I’ll be in bed when you’re ready, Cindi,” he whispered. “Rick?” He was almost out of the room and paused to look back. “Where’d you get the idea for this?” “Why?” He leaned on the doorframe, smiling. Cinthya peered at him, then shrugged. “I just had the feeling there was something familiar about the whole setup.” “Did you?” His laughter was genuine, and he shook his head as he tried to stop chuckling in response to her annoyed glare. “Well?” “Your old man would shoot me if he heard this conversation,” Rick said, relenting. “He did something a little bit like this to your mother, a lot of years ago. Since I can’t imagine he’d ever tell you about it, my best guess is you heard them talking at some point.” “Maybe that’s why she divorced him.” The effect of her glower was lost on him—he merely grinned, then continued out of the room.. *

*

*

Rick hadn’t been in bed long when he felt the breathy whisper of a caress along his spine. He smiled into his pillow and waited to see how adventurous she was willing to get. He was fully expecting her to make an attempt at retaliation for the handcuffs and the incident in the chair. The silk sheets rustled at his waist and he shivered as another cool breath touched the curving hollow there. He turned his head to look at her and was startled into complete 27

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awareness when he discovered she wasn’t in the room with him. He heard the soft sounds of water from the bathroom and realized Cindi was still in the tub. Against his will, he looked around the room, shivering slightly. It was exactly as it had been all night. He shrugged it off as a trick of the wind; these old buildings were filled with weird drafts and odd noises—his precise reason for picking the place when he first planned this little rendezvous. It had atmosphere. The second time he felt a touch stir him from his light sleep, he felt the solid weight of his lover beside him and he turned into her arms. His mouth found the lips that were seeking his and he sighed into the caress as she arched into him, molding their bodies together. When the kiss ended long minutes later, he rolled onto his back and she snuggled into his neck, one arm draped lazily across his waist. Rick was almost asleep again when he felt her stir, then rise. Then he heard the creak of the door swinging inward on rusted hinges. He opened his eyes just in time to see the grin spreading over Cindi’s face. “Hey, that’s cool,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I thought you said you didn’t like dry ice.” Rick followed her line of vision and saw what had put the animation in her expression. A fog-like mist curled around the floor, swirling indolently in a faint breeze that was making the candles sputter. His eyes opened a little wider and he sat up, taking her with him. A tiny shiver of uneasiness worked its way up his spine. He turned serious eyes to her. “I didn’t have anything to do with this,” he told her. She snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right.” She pulled up the covers and started to settle into the bed. Rick yanked the sheets back and stared at her. “I didn’t do this, Cinthya. Do you smell dry ice?” She sniffed the air and realized there was no odor she could detect. Then she looked closely at Rick’s still features. 28

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“This place is supposed to be haunted,” she murmured, her gaze darting back to the shifting fog that was growing thicker in the room. There was a distinct chilliness in the room now, too, something that hadn’t been noticeable just minutes earlier. “You don’t really think…?” “Can’t be,” Rick agreed, pretending he didn’t feel his own twitch of fright at the strangeness. He looked into her huge eyes for several seconds, then they nodded in unison. “Time to go home. C’mon, honey.” He was already reaching for his clothes when he realized she wasn’t moving. “In case you’ve forgotten, Rick, my clothes are still in the other room you dragged me into,” she reminded him. “And I’m sure as hell not walking out of here completely naked.” “Wait here, I’ll go get them..” He made a second attempt to pick up his own things. Her arm jerked him back before he could scoop up the discarded pile of clothes. “You’re not leaving me here with that!” she snapped, eyeing the mist with growing suspicion. He actually managed to laugh at the declaration, and she glared at him. He shivered when he reached down for his pants and the foggy mist closed around his hand and wrist. The touch was cool and cloying, creating a tiny shudder of revulsion in him despite his not really believing it was more than some kind of elaborate illusion. Probably the idiots I hired to set this up in the first place, he bitched silently. However, that thought didn’t keep him from donning his clothes and tossing her his jacket and shirt. “Get up, honey, we’re leaving,” he stated firmly. “We’ll stop for your clothes on the way out.” He ignored the furious look she flung at him and pulled his .45 from the drawer in the bed stand. The clean-up team would take care of the rest of the stuff. When she hadn’t moved off the bed and continued to eye the 29

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thickening fog with open dread, Rick leaned over and scooped her up. He carried her out of the room the same way he’d brought her in. They were out of the hotel less than ten minutes later, both breathing easier when they were inside Rick’s Jaguar and heading for their apartment. *

*

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The pounding at the door finally dragged Cinthya from bed for the second time that morning, and she stumbled down the hallway as she ran a hand through her tangled hair. Rick had left a couple of hours earlier, after a rather satisfying start to the day, and she hadn’t missed the opportunity to snatch some extra sleep. She couldn’t figure out who’d be at the door on a Sunday morning. “Yes? What do you want?” she mumbled, once she’d pulled the door open and was gazing at two men, one of them carrying a large box. “Rick told us to drop this stuff off,” the one with the box said. “You’re supposed to pay us.” She had a vague recollection of Rick telling her something about an envelope on the desk, and she left them to go in search of the thing. She found it and was back a minute later. “Are you Eric Damon?” she asked, reading the name on the envelope. “Yeah, and I think this is yours,” Eric replied, handing over the box. Cinthya closed the door after them, locked it again, and went as far as the dining room with the box before she decided to look inside. Her face turned scarlet when she reached in it and picked up the handcuffs sitting on top of the red silk sheets and black velvet from the hotel the previous night. Rick’s clean up crew—what the hell had they thought of this stuff? “I’ll kill him,” she fumed, feeling her face grow even warmer when she realized the two men had probably been responsible for setting up the night as well. Her hands clutched at the handcuffs for several 30

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minutes, then an idea began to form. A slow smile spread across her face, and she laughed with delighted wickedness as she began to plot her revenge…

31

DENYSE M. BRIDGER

Denyse is a native of Atlantic Canada, born in the country’s Easternmost province, Newfoundland, and raised in Nova Scotia. A lifelong dreamer, she began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when she wasn’t creating in some artistic form. “My first published story was, oddly enough, a media based tale written for the TV series Miami Vice, first published in 1986. Up until that time I had never heard of fanzines and fandom. It’s proven to be an immensely valuable training ground for professional writing in that it teaches discipline and attention to detail. There’s no tougher critic than a fan who knows their show or movie down to the tiniest nuance, and they’re not shy about telling you when you’ve missed the mark!” An active interest in the American West has been a lifetime obsession, too. Cowboys have been a love-affair that began at the tender age of three, and eventually expanded to encompass an equally timeless passion for pirates, Greek Gods, and Ancient Egypt. The other side of the Old West intrigue is an affinity for Victorian England, particularly the 1885-1895 part of the century. The American Civil War has also been a source of avid interest. “How can anyone not be moved by the tragedy that defines that conflict? There are endless stories of courage and honor, and each man and woman who lived through America’s greatest turmoil was left scarred in some way. Those who rose above their losses and went on with the

stoicism and utter bravery of eternal legends really have to inspire and humble anyone who reads about them.” At this point in her career, Denyse has had published in the vicinity of 400 stories and novellas, in almost any genre you can name. “The only thing I haven’t tried yet is hard-core science fiction, and horror. Since I don’t consider vampires as I write them to be the fodder of horror, I classify those stories as Dark Fantasy.” Many of her vampire stories have appeared in Margaret L. Carter’s anthology, The Vampire’s Crypt, and Night To Dawn, published and edited by Dawn Callahan. Her poetry has been published internationally. Denyse has also been the recipient of numerous awards, most notably the Fan Quality Award, which is given annually for excellence in fan fictions based on film and television. As of May 2004, there are four awards in her collection, and no less than a dozen nominations to her credit. What’s next on the agenda? “I hope many more stories for AQP. A home for my ‘labor of love’ Greek fantasy novel. And more time to get all the ideas in my head down onto the written page…” *

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Don’t miss The Phantom’s Lair, by Denyse M. Bridger, available from Amber Quill Press, LLC Upon her arrival in the pirate port of Tortuga where her father is acting as Governor, Katheryn Hollinsworth is determined to choose her own path, and follow her heart wherever it may take her. On the streets of Puerta de la Plata, she encounters the mythical buccaneer

known as The Phantom, and very quickly loses her heart to the handsome rogue. Jack Stanton is a man who has never fully come to terms with his past, and in the Governor’s pretty daughter he finds a most unlikely champion. But when his past threatens her life, and any chance of a respectable future, The Phantom must face the demons of his past, and accept the dictates of his own reawakened heart…

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