The Inasad, a breed of light shifters, ensnared Grant Calder, who now lives between two dimensions. When his housekeeper, Violet Georges, reports for work, she finds an isolated mansion where she appears to be the sole occupant, except for an employer who never leaves his room.

On All Hallow's Eve, she finds ghostly apparitions dancing in the ballroom. Alone and frightened, she barges into Grant's room to demand answers only to discover a naked man waiting to pleasure her. Is he the ghost who has been tormenting her in her dreams or is he a wretched soul who needs help?

Excerpt

He trailed passionate kisses along the silky curve of her neck as she quivered in anticipation. His lips left burning fire in their wake. Was she making love to a ghost?

Violet Georges told herself she should have known better. Ghosts didn't exist, and yet here, on the rumpled cotton sheets of her single bed, he rested his elbows on either side of her head and gazed into her face with adoration. And outright lust. At times, she couldn't see his face clearly. It was as if a thick, gray haze hung its languid pall between them, obliterating any sense of reality. Violet felt the heat of his muscled, powerful body, and her nipples beaded into tiny points of pleasure. Even if she'd wanted to, she wouldn't have been able to speak for sheer exhilaration. No man had ever aroused her as this man did.

She wanted to ask his name and where he came from, along with a hundred other questions, but none of those things mattered. Nothing was important except the burning need spiraling through her naked body. Glistening tears struggled down the sides of her face and into her long, mussed hair. If she didn't hold onto him, he'd vanish into the ethereal realm from which he'd come.

"Please-" She reached out to him imploringly, wanting him to make love to her, to thrust his hard cock into her wet sheath to ease the desperate longing. Her hands sliced through empty air. Suffocating need fluttered in the pit of her stomach. This gorgeous man, she sensed but couldn't clearly see, wasn't flesh and blood. He couldn't be if he left her breathless and hungering for his caress.

The lace curtains around the sides of the window overlooking the expansive, well-kept gardens billowed ghost-like into the night-darkened room. Filtered silvery light laid a swath of illumination along the plush carpet. All Hallow's Eve was one day away, when tortured souls and those expecting grim reckoning waited for the night to claim its own.

Violet dragged in a breath, shuddering as the man above her faded away, leaving her desperate and unsatisfied. Leaping up from the bed and hastily surveying the empty room, she shouted, "Dammit! Who are you? Where are you?"

Hushed silence answered her.

She ran to the window, leaned out and studied every lurking shadow, but her would-be lover was nowhere. Where had he gone? Why did he come to her in the dead of night and disappear without as much as a word? Violet still sensed him, the slight musky scent lingering in the air, but there was no visible presence.

Haunted by what could have been, she didn't bother to pull on her flimsy nightgown and sank onto the bed in dejection. The search for her elusive lover was futile. She'd known that all along.

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