She was not supposed to be here.
Kirk's throat tightened and his back stiffened as he pressed up against the couch cushions. Gabrielle flashed an impish grin. Her expression sent chills down his spine. She glided toward him. Her raven-black hair and white night dress fluttered as though troubled by an unseen breeze.
He cast his eyes at the window behind her. Window sealed. Drapes closed. His eyes trailed over to the door. Shut and locked.
How did Gabrielle break inside his den?
“I'm losing my mind.” His voice barely rose above a whisper. “You're not really here.”
“Your mind fled long ago,” she scoffed. “I am no mere dream nor a vivid hallucination. I stand here before you as real and tangible as everything else inside this room.”
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