He kissed her cheek, and then she was surrounded by everyone who wanted to congratulate her.
Joss was last. He hugged her tight, whispering in her ear, “I’m proud of you.”
Her heart warmed. She parted her lips to tell him he’d always be her family when a rivulet of cold liquid ran down her spine. Gasping, she arched her back.
“What’s wrong?” Joss asked.
She searched the room. Maya stood next to the drinks table, her hand hovering over a jug of water.
“Need to cool down?” Maya asked with a wink.
“You won’t,” Clelia said.
“Maya,” Cain said. “Remember your oath.”
Maya pouted. “She started it.” She took a glass of champagne from the table and lifted it to Clelia. “To mixed breeds.”
Clelia smiled.
She’d found her place in the world.
She’d found her love. It was no longer one-sided. She was no longer a spectator, looking through a window.
She belonged.
~ THE END ~
Excerpt from Aeromancist, The Beginning
Order Aeromancist, The Beginning
Aeromancist, The Beginning (7 Forbidden Arts, Book 2)
All that Russian aeromancist Lann Dréan wants is to enjoy a month of peace in the privately owned monastery in Santiago he is turning into a home. When an American literature student walks into his library of antique books, his holiday intentions change. The untouchable Lann is inexplicably enraptured. For all his famed control, he can’t stay away from Katherine White.
Gifted with a hunted talent and a price on his head, the best Lann can offer Kat are thirty days of unrivalled passion before returning to his paranormal crime task force in New York. If Kat consents to his terms, she will agree to walk away on Day Thirty. Forever. But his uncontainable desire comes with an unforeseen and devastating price.
Excerpt from Aeromancist, The Beginning (7 Forbidden Arts, Book 2)
Kat knew where this was going and she couldn’t do it. Lann was a keeper, but he didn’t keep. She knew it from the gossip snippets, but also from intuition. She got up abruptly. “It’s getting late.”
“Of course.”
He immediately pushed back his chair. His compliance both surprised and disappointed her, and the latter sentiment scared her. But Lann acted oblivious to her turmoil. He took her hand and led her down the dimly lit hallway past the garden that was dark now, except for two spotlights that cast the trees and shrubs in a veil of green light. Every part of her body was aware of his strong fingers folding around hers. Her nerve endings came alive, making her skin tingle with an electric crackle. Even if she wanted nothing more than to escape the disturbing sensations, pulling away would only demonstrate that she was affected, so she did nothing but to experience it in silence.
At the library door he stopped, took a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I want to show you my library.”
“I’ve had the tour.”
“Not by me,” he said, ushering her inside.
During the day, the broad windows let in plenty of natural light, but now they were dark, and the dim ceiling spots cast the wood in a warm glow that washed over her with the welcome scent of the ink and leather. Lann flicked on the light, and, as always, she looked at the spines with the embossed gold titles in awe.
Taking her elbow, he led her to the back of the room where the most fragile books were displayed in a glass cabinet, and surprised her by unlocking the door with a cylinder key from his keychain.
“Would you like to touch them?” he asked in a soft voice close to her ear.
She put a bit of distance between them and dared to glance at him. “You’d let me?”
He opened a drawer under the cabinet and pulled out a box of white gloves.
“Here.” He handed her a pair.
She tried to pull them on, but her hands were shaking, making it difficult to fit her fingers. Taking her hands in his, he finished the task with the utmost gentleness.
For a moment, she was too shaken to speak. When she finally found her voice again, she only managed a breathless, “Thank you.”
His eyes sparked with warmth, that strange golden color almost glowing as he held her gaze a fraction too long. “You’re welcome.”
She cleared her throat and quickly turned back to the books. “Which titles are these?”
“Old verses about magic. Some of my favorites.” He placed her palm on the page, his big hand covering her gloved one.
Her heart and breath started to do funny things. She should’ve only wanted to lift the book from the padded interior, to turn the pages, to hear the crackling of the paper, but all she could focus on was the tall Russian who manipulated her hand, working her fingers to turn the pages. Her body felt hot and her mind fuzzy.
“Why the interest in old books?” she asked in an attempt to steer her thoughts away from this touch.
He gripped her chin and turned her face toward him. “Do you always talk your way out of uncomfortable situations?”
Her eyes widened at his arrogance as well as the truth of his observation. She opened her mouth but found no words of denial.
Thankfully, Lann let her off the hook by dropping the subject. For a while they looked at the books in silence, Lann waiting patiently until she had had her fill.
When she returned the gloves, he left them in a basket on the side, and said, “Come. I want to show you something.”
“There’s more?”
She followed him to a narrow staircase in the corner. At the bottom, he turned to give her a smile, a gesture that almost seemed encouraging.
“What’s up there?”
“My den.”
She couldn’t help but be curious. He led the way to the top level where a landing broad enough to walk on ran around the shelves. There was a door in the corner. As she waited for Lann to unlock it, she had the feeling of being Alice in Wonderland, about to pass through a secret door. It was
