The Ghost Doctor's Assistant: Ectos Book 1

THE GHOST DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT Part 2

PROLOGUE

He could see her clearly. She was young and tempting, the way he liked them: no makeup or lipstick, just naturally cute. He liked them cute, petite, not large, busty and brassy. He preferred soft honey-blonde hair, long enough to dance over slender shoulders. She was all that, and equipped with large blue eyes that could search a soul. Was she searching his? What would she find there? Would she be afraid? What would he find if he could probe her soul?

He saw her moving toward him, her mouth parting and her hands reaching for his face. He wanted to pull away, but couldn't. There was something about her that was holding him in place, waiting for her, anticipating her next move, even though he knew exactly what she was going to do. He always did. That was the curse.

He dropped his hands to his sides, pretending to let her take charge. Her hands felt warm against his cheeks and her lips were soft as they pressed against him, at first gently, very gently, and then with more passion. When he didn't move, she pulled slightly back, gazing at him with questioning eyes, then she moved her hand to the top button of his shirt. He winced as the button opened. He felt her finger touch his neck, then trace the line of his jugular. He didn't like being exposed to her nails like that; it made him feel too vulnerable. One well-placed puncture by her nails and it would be over - but she was gentle, tenderly drawing a light line over his flesh with one nail, barely touching him, but just enough to send a quivering electric pulse to his brain.

Then he saw her hand lower to the next button, and the next. Slowly she undid each of his buttons, her hand now sliding under his open shirt, caressing his chest with gentle rolling touches of the tips of her nails. She knows what to do, he thought, Just as I figured. She's got to be that type of girl.

She pulled the shirt off his right shoulder and placed her lips on his skin, running her lips slowly down his chest. He still hadn't moved, but he shivered when she removed his shirt completely and he watched it fall to the carpet -- which, he noted, was an oval rug over a white-tiled floor. What color is it? he thought, trying to see the rug in the dimly-lit room. Is it pink? That figures too.

His attempt to focus on the rug was interrupted when he felt her hand lower to the front of his jeans. He didn't stop her. Maybe this time it would be different? Knowing what was coming next made it difficult to become excited. It was amazing how his apparent indifference excited them, forced them to take the initiative. They thought it was a ploy, an act. It would have terrified them if he told them the truth.

She looked up into his face with those haunting blue eyes, her hand reaching for his belt. She wasn't wearing a ring. A clue? Her fingers were thin, dainty, and he could see no nail polish. Do most students wear nail polish today? he wondered, as he let her open his belt buckle. She reached for his zipper and he still didn't stop her, but noted she appeared to be left-handed.

He saw it just the way he knew it would happen - in a few days. He didn't know exactly when; his powers weren't strong enough for that. She backed away from him, that questioning look still on her face. He still wasn't reacting. He saw her smile coyly as she slowly removed her top, her hair resting lightly on her shoulders, lush strands barely touching the top of her breasts - which were firm, but not large. They were tempting, but he still wasn't giving in. He saw her eyes again, and then felt her hand move into his open jeans.

I can see her eyes. So why can't I see her face? How can I find her if I can't see her face?

He concentrated harder, trying to conjure up the vivid images again. He saw her drop to her knees, and he found himself gazing down at the girl's naked back. If only there was a tattoo, a birthmark. He felt her touching him with her fingers, felt it as if it was really happening now. She was gentle, more caring than he expected. He felt strange; she was having an effect on him he hadn't anticipated. He fell back against the wall.

The girl was still below him. He was looking at the room, searching for clues to where she would be, where he could find her. All the dorm rooms looked alike, so how could he find her? He felt her move her head backwards, her eyes aimed up at him. "Enough," he heard escape from his lips.

He saw himself gently drop his hands onto her bare shoulders, enjoying his first touch of her skin, but unable to decide - once again - if he would make love to her, or tighten his hands on her throat and kill her.