Whispers from the Grave

Previously

…Thea’s hand instinctively rose, her fingers hovering inches from his. A faint warmth, almost electric, thrummed between them. The sorrow in his obsidian eyes seemed to soften, replaced by a possessive intensity. He was her mother’s lost love, bound to this house, and now, inexplicably, drawn to her. The lines between grief and desire, between the living and the dead, were beginning to blur, and Thea knew, with a chilling certainty, that her journey had just begun. The whispers from the grave were growing louder, and they were calling her name.