“Ella. Ella. Ella.”
“Ella. Ella. Ella.”Ella pulled her pillow over her head and tried to block the persistent sound. She’d spent an enjoyable evening with Summer, Dillon’s sister, who had invited her to go to the local pub for drinks. Although her aches and pains were retreating, she still felt physically drained and had hoped she’d sleep well. Not happening.
“Ella. Ella. Ella.”
“Ella. Ella. Ella.”A cold wash of air on her forearms—the ones holding the pillow in place—pebbled chill bumps over her flesh.
“Leave me alone. I’ve done everything you wanted. I visited Dillon and can’t do anything more.”
Ella gave up trying to sleep and read a book about spinning alpaca fleece before switching to the latest Ilona Andrews urban fantasy. When the ghostly whispers and the wafts of icy air kept
