The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2 Read Free Page A

memory box was supposed to be cathartic for him. Cleansing. Instead, it had left him feeling oddly hollow, and painfully lonely.
    Which, when he thought about it, was no different from how he’d felt when he’d been married to Caitlin.
    No, that was unfair. She’d been the one to leave him, after all. One too many fights, and both of them too proud to admit their egos had smothered their affection. She’d left him, and he’d thought at the time it was good riddance. Two years later, she had still infected his heart.
    When you compared love to a disease, it was time to take drastic measures. And so, he’d crafted the memory box.
    He was on his second bottle and his second slice when his cellphone rang. He checked the number and took a healthy swig of beer before he answered. Of course she’d be calling. Probably to thank him, and then make some small talk, ask how his rituals were going, that sort of thing. That’s all she was to him now: small talk. If he told himself that enough, he might actually believe it.
    Swallowing his beer, he took the call. “Caitlin,” he said by way of hello.
    “Aaron.” She said his name like she was spitting nails. “I know you sent the memory box.”
    He wasn’t the sort of man to think Well, duh. But in this case, it was damn close. “Given the memory that was inside, I’d certainly hope so.” He’d chosen it specially, out of all the time they’d had together. Goddess knew that after twelve years, there had been quite a few choice memories.
    She let out an exasperated sigh. “Aaron . . .”
    “Listen, you caught me right in the middle of something, so enjoy the present.” He really wanted to watch some righteous murder right about now. Uma Thurman in a tracksuit was a bonus. Not that he was into tall, blond women with a thing for swords; he was much more about small brunettes with untamable curly hair.
    He wondered if Caitlin still kept her hair pulled back in a ponytail, or if she let it go loose around her shoulders.
    “Don’t hang up,” Caitlin snapped. “You messed up, Aaron. The box didn’t go to me.”
    Aaron rolled his eyes. He didn’t mess up, not when it came to memory boxes. While he enjoyed working various subtle craftings, the one area he truly excelled in was memory. Current actions defined a person only for the moment; memories defined them forever. “Of course it went to you,” he said. “I was very specific when I crafted the package. I infused it with the essence of your dazzling smile and sharp tongue, dearest.”
    She sighed, clearly exasperated. “Aaron—”
    “It couldn’t not go to you. Besides,” he added with a smile, “I felt it when you opened it.”
    Oh, he’d felt it, all right: the initial surprise, then a flood of lust so powerful it had given him a raging hard-on. He hadn’t known Caitlin could feel any emotion that strongly. Maybe he wasn’t the only one doing without sex.
    “That wasn’t me,” Caitlin growled. “Jesse got the envelope. Jesse opened the box.”
    Her words hit him like ice water in the face. His mouth worked silently for a moment, until he finally spluttered, “You’re joking.”
    “I wish I were. But I’m looking at Jesse right now.” Caitlin paused, and Aaron could hear her grind her teeth. “She’s trapped. Something went wrong, and she opened the box, and now she’s trapped.”
    Aaron ran his fingers through his hair. Of all the possible ramifications he’d thought of when he had first crafted Caitlin’s memory box – and he’d thought of just about everything, from Caitlin despising him to Caitlin throwing herself at his feet and begging for another chance – this scenario hadn’t come up. Hell, this scenario should be impossible. But then, he admitted to himself, when it came to Caitlin’s pseudo-sister Jesse, “impossible” didn’t really exist.
    He said, “Tell me everything.”
    She did.
    By the time she finished, Aaron was sweating and his heartbeat was erratic. Caitlin had