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resolution.
"I didn't hear the car," she said, glancing past his shoulder as he closed the door, shutting
out the unwanted world.
"You must have been preoccupied with what you were doing," he hedged as he went to
her, taking her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head then crooked a finger under her chin
to tilt her face up. "What is that wonderful smell?"
"Lasagna," she pronounced. "I was just starting the salad."
He lowered his head to claim her lips. His played over hers at length tasting, teasing,
pressing firmly to remind her to whom she belonged. When he drew away, he reached down to
thread the fingers of his right hand through hers. "There's something I want to show you."
A light frown shifted over Wynter's face as she looked toward the kitchen but his fingers
tightened over hers and she looked up at him. "How long will it take?" she inquired. "The
lasagna is almost ready."
He waved his left hand as though making a careless, silent statement when in essence he
used his power to turn off the oven. "It won't take long," he lied then led her toward the cellar
stairs.
"Am I finally going to see what you've been working on down there?" she asked,
excitement rife in her voice.
"Indeed you will," he replied. He let go of her hand to fish in his pocket for the key to
the thick padlock nestled in the heavy hasp.
"If it's your first three wives, I'd rather not know," she said with a pretend shiver.
Azzin laughed. "It's just the first two, sweeting. You are my third." He lightly bumped
her with his hip as he unlocked the door.
Although there was a look of expectation on her face, there was something darker lacing
through her eyes and the demon caught a glimpse of it. He knew she was a bit unnerved by his
secrecy but he had used all of his power to reassure her, to calm her fears. Apparently, he
thought, he had not done as good a job of alleviating those concerns as he imagined he had.
WINDS THROUGH TIME Charlotte Boyett-Compo 120
He cupped his hand to the back of her neck, lowered his head to place his forehead
against hers, staring into her lovely green eyes. "You know you are my heart, don't you, Anjali?"
Just as it always did, his use of her name did not ring true in her mind. There was a false
note, a bit of artifice that rankled. It was a lovely name but somehow it did not feel right to her.
It did not feel as though it were her name. Nevertheless, her lips pulled into a sweet smile.
"Of course," she answered.
He kissed her nose then straightened. Opening the sturdy door, he snaked his hand inside
the dark space to flip a switch. The ebony expanse brightened to reveal a stairway.
"Watch your step," he said, preceding her down the wide wooden steps.
Wynter hesitated before placing her foot on the first step. She had a sense of foreboding,
of unease as she looked down the steep steps. Beyond, the cellar was dimly lit as though by
candlelight and that set the hairs on her arms to stirring.
Azzin stopped halfway down and turned to look up at her. She was paused in the
doorway. He could smell her fear, hear the blood racing through her veins. He willed his voice
low, hypnotic and drew her gaze to his fusing them.
"Come with me, Anjali," he ordered and extended his hand toward her.
Pulled to him by a force she could neither explain nor deny, Wynter stepped onto the step
and slowly descended the stairway. She took his hand flinching as his fingers gripped hers in a
tight clench from which she knew she could not escape. He turned from her and continued down
the steps, drawing her with him. The lower she went, the colder she felt and the faster her heart
raced.
"Listen only to my voice," he said in a low, commanding tone. "Hear only me and pay
close heed to the words I speak." He reached the bottom step and turned to look up at her two
steps above him. "Blot out all else save my voice and my eyes. Do you understand?"
She nodded, her gaze locked on his. Her breath was ragged in her throat but she neither
heard nor felt it. She was lost in the swirling depths of his amber eyes, being drawn down into a
maelstrom of flickering red lights.
He tugged her from the stairs and she went willingly although her body was stiff, her lips
trembling.
The room into which he led her was lit in each of the four corners by black candles set in
brass candle stands that were nearly as tall as she. Overhead was a circular brass chandelier
suspended from four gleaming chains; it held a dozen black pillar candles.
Below it were five fat black twelve inch diameter candles perched atop brass holders that
grabbed and held her full attention for they had been placed at the five points of a blood red [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]