The human aura is a bioenergy field, which exists in an egg shape around the physical body unlike the chakras that lie inside the body. The average person is not typically in tune with their spiritual self to see or feel the energy surrounding their body or that of the individuals around them, but this doesn’t mean it’s not there. One must be open to viewing such things.

My head is pounding alongside the base drum as I watch Mallory belt out the chorus on what is sure to be her next hit single. As much as the woman drives me absolutely insane, she’s making Knight & Day Productions a mint with her success. Every song we release for her hits the top of the charts. The only problem is the spoiled broad thinks she can have whatever she wants, namely me. And I’m not on the market. Not for her.

Instantly caramel-colored skin and Caribbean blue eyes enter my mind.

Dara.

I can’t seem to get the vixen out of my mind. It has been three weeks since that night, and I still can’t get her taste off my tongue. Nor do I want to. It was pure hedonistic magic. Even though we both knew the score, wanted one thing, which we fulfilled many times over, I still felt my heart ache when I woke to an empty bed. Dara had sneaked out during the wee hours of the morning, with me none the wiser. I can’t deny it was a hit to my ego. I’d given my all to the woman.

The last time I’d felt that good was with…

I shake my head. No thoughts of Sarah tonight. Thoughts of her have to be kept to the confines of my house. Letting her out into the open will ruin me. It’s part of why my father threw me into heading the business. I needed the distraction. Three years ago, I was sinking into a hole of oblivion. I wanted nothing but the calm blackness of my loneliness to keep me company. My father, known far and wide as Daddy McKnight, wouldn’t have any of it. And barely a year later, I didn’t have him either. The need for me to take the reins of Knight & Day Productions became even more important, for my mother, my siblings, and my broken heart. The day I lost my father, I promised myself I’d never allow a person to hurt me so deeply, and I lost sight of everything else that mattered.

For two years, I’ve kept that promise. One-night stands, an empty bed, cooking for one, this is my life now. I’m alive, and the business is doing better than ever. My family is settled financially, the way my father would have wanted, and I…well, I’m alive. For now, that has to be enough.

I rub at my temples, wishing I had a few pain killers to knock out this headache.

A hand claps down on my shoulder. “Hey, bro, you okay?” My best talent scout and music writer, Atlas Powers, shoots me a concerned look. His mismatched eyes—one brown and one blue—are focused on me, and I can’t help thinking how cool it is the dude has different-colored eyes. At first, it was discombobulating, but over time it’s become unique and special, just like the guy. The past year with Atlas in the company has made an incredible difference. He has a knack for writing songs and pairing them with the right talent.

I smile brokenly. “Yeah, man. Headache.”

Atlas lifts his chin toward Mallory, the current pop queen singing her heart out. “Doesn’t take a leap to figure out it’s probably a tiny blonde who’s prodding at you?”

I sigh and nod.

“Man, why don’t you let me take on her sessions? I’d do you a solid in a minute, and I’m a happily married man. Besides, you know Mila. My tiny wildcat would rip her to shreds if she so much as hit on me.”

A laugh bubbles up my throat, and I let it out, trying not to do so while facing the glass window where our current topic of conversation is working. “Another reason why you can’t take on Mallory. Mila would have my balls.”

Atlas grins and toes the carpet. “That is no joke. She’s a hellion, but I love the fuck out of her.”

I clap him on the shoulder. “I know. Hold on to her tight. You never know when it can all disappear within an instant.”

My buddy frowns and tips his head. “You act like you’re speaking from experience.”

I offer a sad smile, sit in the chair, and press the call button. “That was excellent, Mallory. Let’s give it one more go so we have some dubbing options. Maybe do it all one octave higher.”

She smiles widely and fluffs her wild blond locks. “Anything for you, baby.” She runs her hand seductively down the side of her chest, puffing out her breasts in all their medically enhanced glory.

I grit my teeth and force a flat-lipped smile. “Thanks. From the top.” I press the button that starts the music Atlas wrote for her.

“Good idea to go an octave higher. It will sound sweet in the second and fourth verse.” Atlas leans his back against the wall near where I’m pretending to consider tweaking the treble and bass as necessary. There’s nothing needed. I’ve already dialed everything in for this particular song.

“Thanks.”

Atlas groans. “Okay, I’ve got to say it.”

I cringe and turn my chair fully toward my friend. “Spit it out.”

“You’re stressed out to the max, dude. You’ve got tension headaches almost every day, worse when Barbie pop star Mallory is in the studio, and I haven’t seen you leave before me in weeks. You need to chill out. When was the last time you went out to let off some steam?”

Flashes of the night three weeks ago with his friend Dara come barreling through my mind.

Her lips surrounding my cock.

My face in her neck, mouth sucking on sugary skin.

Impaling myself deep inside her tight heat.

I rub furiously at my forehead, trying to obliterate those memories before my dick gets hard. It’s bad enough I’ve been wanking off to visions of her and memories of my time with her every night since it happened. I haven’t even wanted to go out and find a new woman. Dara’s possessed all of my carnal thoughts, and no matter what I do, those thoughts are not abating.

“Uh, we all went out and saw Honor sing, remember?”

His shoulders drop and his head follows, falling forward. “Dude, that was three weeks ago! You haven’t so much as taken a break from work since then?”

I roll my shoulders and crack my neck. “Nah, it’s fine. There’s a lot to do anyway.”

Atlas runs his hands through his mop of curls. “There’s always a lot to do. But there’s also a lot to live, and being in the studio day in and day out isn’t living.”

I want so badly to tell him how very wrong he is. It’s practically the only reason I roll out of bed every morning. Making sure my father’s legacy is intact and my entire family is set financially is the only thing I live for these days. The one and only thing that matters.

Another spike of pain pierces through my temple when Mallory’s voice rises to insane heights. I grip my head and squeeze. “Fuck,” I growl.

Atlas comes over to me and kneels, resting his elbow on the table where the sound system is. “Dude, you are too stressed out.”

His concern rankles, but I know he means well. “You’re just as bad as me. You work your ass off, maybe not the hours I have, but you also have a baby at home and a wife. Plus, you’re always writing new songs. How do you manage the stress?”

My buddy grins wickedly. “I have the perfect stress release.”

“Don’t you dare say it’s bending your wife over on the regular.” I grimace.

He laughs. “Nah, man. Though, not gonna lie, that helps. A lot.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“You gonna share with me your magic stress relief or what?” I desperately try to change the subject. Thinking of his spitfire Latina wife bent over a couch being pounded from behind is hot but not something a brotha should be thinking about when it’s his best friend’s woman.

Atlas presses back onto his heels. “It’s easy. I meditate.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “Fuckin’ yogi bastard. You meditate.”

Atlas grins widely. “I’m not joking. I take a class at Lotus House at least once a week. Does wonders for me. I’ll take you tomorrow. It’s Saturday. You don’t have a wife and kids at home. You’ve got nothing better to do.”

Without him knowing about my past, his comment sends a spear slicing right through my chest, obliterating my heart. “No, you’re right. I don’t have a wife and kid at home.” I grit the words through my teeth, hating the sour taste that comes with them.

It’s not his fault. He doesn’t know. No one does.

“Great. Then I’ll meet you at Lotus House tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock.”

I widen my eyes. “Eight in the freakin’ morning on a Saturday? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He chuckles. Always full of laughs, my friend. “Best way to start your day. Promise me you won’t leave me hanging. I’ll never let you live it down if you do. And there’s no escape. I know where you work.” He winks.

Mallory’s voice rips through the sound room. “Silas, baby, I’m done. Were you listening?”

Ugh. I look at Atlas, who never loses that snarky grin, and press the talk button. “It was great, honey. Magic.”

“Dude, you are so in for it with that chick. She is bad fuckin’ news.” He grimaces.

“I know,” I respond, defeated. I haven’t been able to shake off this client in a year of working with her.

“Tomorrow, then?” Atlas confirms as he walks to the door and grabs the handle.

The pain throbs around my temples and shifts to the back of my neck. I rub at it furiously, trying to stave off a migraine. “Yeah, I’m in.”

Atlas opens the door just as Mallory bounces in with the exuberance only a twenty-year-old girl can have.

She runs the extra few feet, slams into my chest, and hugs me. I don’t wrap my arms around her. Instead I put them on her biceps and push her the couple feet back.

“That was so awesome, right? Did you love it, Silas baby?” She blinks pretty brown eyes up at me. Her hair has the beach wave women are so fond of now, and her smile is wide on her glossy pink lips.

“Mallory, I’m not your baby. I’m your producer. I’ve been telling you that for a year.”

Atlas coughs and stands near the door with his arms crossed. He knows I don’t like to be alone with her, and I appreciate him staying when I know he wants to get home to his wife and daughter.

Mallory pouts, puffing out her perfect cherub lips. It would be a sin to deny the girl is beautiful. She is. Part of the reason she’s so damn popular. Though it’s the pipes on her that speak to me. Regardless of what Atlas and I throw at her, she can sing the shit out of it. I just wish her mother had taught her some freakin’ manners about clinging on to men who aren’t interested.

She runs a finger down my chest and toys with my belt. “Silas, you know we could have so much fun together. I’ve made it clear I’m yours for the taking.”

I step back as she attempts to dig into the front of my pants.

“Mal, honey, that is an incredible offer, but I’m your producer, and I’m too old for you. By a decade. And I’m unavailable.” A vision of Dara’s beautiful honey-colored skin skitters through my mind. The waves of her soft brown and gold hair spilling through my fingers.

“Since when?” Her voice takes on a panicked, almost maniacal tone, her eyes going dark as she stares at me.

Danger! Danger! Danger!

An alarm bell rings inside my head.

Atlas, thank the good Lord above, comes to my rescue. “Mallory, sweetheart, he’s been seeing a friend of mine, one his mama loves.” He grabs her arm and leads her toward the door. Her purse and jacket are in a chair beside it. With his free hand, he lifts the jacket and purse and hands them to her. She takes them as if on autopilot.

“But, but, I’m perfect for him.” Her chin trembles.

Atlas shakes his head. “He’s too old for you. Besides, he never goes out, doesn’t have any fun, and spends all of his time in the studio and church.”

Church? Where the fuck is he coming up with this shit?

“I can go to church. I can.” Her voice shakes.

Atlas places a hand to her lower back and leads her out. “Sorry, sweetheart. He’s very devout. And his mama’s already in love with his new girl. We just need to keep this relationship professional. Okay?” I hear his voice teeter off the farther away they get.

I sigh and slump back into my chair. I’m going to owe Atlas for that one.

Oh yeah, I’ll be paying up by attending meditation class. Whatever the hell that is.

Fuck my life.

---

The small Berkeley street is teaming with people at seven forty-five in the morning. I lean against the side of my gunmetal-gray BMW 5 Series Gran Turismo, aka the bullet, aka my pretty baby, while I wait for Atlas to arrive. He better not leave me hangin’, or I’m not going in. I’ve never taken a yoga class, let alone a meditation class. I wouldn’t know where to start. I didn’t even know what to wear, so I threw on my couch-potato garb of a pair of gray sweats and a white T-shirt. The latest pair of Nike Janoski Max kicks in gray, red, and white on my size twelves completed the bum look.

Cinnamon and sugar wafts through the air from the Sunflower Bakery next to the Lotus House. My mouth waters at the idea of skipping meditation and just going straight for a gooey treat and an espresso. The bakery is hopping too. Patrons going in and out nonstop since I’ve been here. I glance around and notice a used bookstore called Tattered Pages, as well as the Rainy Day Café, both on the same side as the bakery and yoga studio. Across the street, there’s New To You thrift store, Up In Smoke paraphernalia store, Amanda & Anna’s Antiques, and an empty lot with a metal fence and a sign that says Winters Group with a sold sign over it.

Winters Group. I know the name. I’m pretty sure that’s the young, rich fella who’s buying out old neighborhoods and building high-profile condos and high-rises. Claims he’s gentrifying the area, but in reality, he’s tearing down all the mom-and-pop businesses like the ones on this street and replacing them with multimillion-dollar skyscrapers or luxury condos for San Francisco executives.

I shake my head and look around. This neighborhood is beautiful. Quaint. Something you’d find in a small college town, kind of like Telegraph Avenue. Which is not far from here, now that I think about it.

“Hey, man, glad you came!” Atlas exits the front door of the yoga studio.

“What? Hey… I’ve been waiting. I didn’t see you go in.”

He laughs. “Cuz I parked in the back. I still teach here once a week.”

My eyes practically bug out of my head. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Mila and I met here. She teaches Vinyasa once a week too.”

“Between running her gallery and having a baby?”

“Gotta keep in shape somehow, right? Plus, yoga is a calling. It’s something we need to feel balanced mentally and physically. And the owners haven’t found anyone who wants to teach naked yoga on a regular basis, so I keep it up.”

“Naked yoga?” I sputter.

He grins. “Yep. Naked as the day you were born.”

“I don’t… I can’t… Not sure I have anything to say about that.”

Atlas opens the door for me, and I enter. The scent of spice and trees enters my nostrils. It’s not unpleasant but definitely something I’d need to get used to.

“Hey, Luna. I’m bringing a guest with me to meditation. He’s going to try it out before committing. Cool?”

A stunning redhead with snow-white skin and clear blue eyes waves. “No problem, Atlas. He’ll be hooked after one session. I’m not worried.”

I chuckle. “Confident, eh?”

Luna places her elbows on the counter, putting her head into her hands. “I’m confident in the teachers here, yes.”

Atlas pushes me forward toward an inner door. “Luna is taking over the business. One of the co-owners, Jewel Marigold, is her mother. The other is Crystal Nightingale. They both want to retire and travel the world in their sixties and hang out at the studio when the mood hits them. Luna’s our go-to yogi for all things. If you ever want to talk to someone about the other classes available or anything spiritual, she’d be a great resource.”

Not wanting to sound like an asshole, I keep my thoughts and opinions to myself. Nothing spiritual has never done a lick of good for me. Sarah loved yoga, though. Toward the end, she went a couple times a week and said she never felt better than when she was doing yoga.

My heart suddenly feels like someone is squeezing it. Thoughts of Sarah always do that. I clutch at my chest and rub circles over the skin.

Atlas notices the move and stops in the hall. “What’s going on?”

“Heartburn. Hits sometimes. No biggie,” I lie.

He frowns and assesses my face with knowing, intelligent eyes. “If that’s how you want to play it, fine. I’ll give you that. Eventually, your ass is going to talk to me about the shadows behind your eyes. I’m not stupid. I know when a friend of mine is hurting, and I’m pretty sure you’ve been hurting since the day we met. One day, I hope you’ll trust me enough to share those burdens.”

I purse my lips, rub a hand over the back of my neck, and squeeze the frustration building there. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just…” I let out a slow, frustrated breath. “Shit, man, I can’t. Not today.”

Atlas nods, puts both of his hands on my shoulders, and dips his head close. He’s always been tactile. He seems to want people to feel his words as much as hear them.

“I’m here for you, when the time comes. Yeah?”

I grip one of his wrists. “Yeah, man.”

“You’re my brother.” His tone is earnest and kind.

“From another mother?” I joke, and he smiles.

“Preach. Now let’s go get you relaxed. Your shoulders are tense, you’ve got your ‘heartburn’ shit happening, and you need to fuckin’ relax. I’m going to show you what that looks like, and man…it’s going to be beautiful. Trust me.”

I turn and hook my arm around his shoulder. “I trust you, bro. Let’s get meditated.”

He shakes his head. “Mark my words. This class is going to change your life.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” I laugh as we walk into a cool, darkened room. Individuals are dotted around the room in random patterns. There is no rhyme or reason to their locations. One person is lying flat on a yoga mat in the center of the room. Another off to the side, cross-legged against a column, eyes closed, hands on her knees, facing up. A big man is settled in a cocoon of rolled pillows, one placed under every limb strategically.

“For your first class, we’ll sit up against a wall, keeping your back flat. It helps you relax from the pressure of your back getting tired.”

“I can’t lie down?” I gesture to the person lying comfortably.

He grins. “She is a regular. She comes two, three times a week. If I let you lie down like that, you’d fall asleep. This is not nap time. It’s quiet time for the mind.”

“Whatever that means,” I grumble.

Atlas leads me over to a wall close to the raised platform at the front of the room.

“We’ll want to be close so you can hear her words. The first few times, it helps to focus on the guided meditation Dara offers.”

Dara.

That name is not common, and yet, there’s no way this is her class. Before I can question what he said, my skin heats, and prickles of recognition shimmer down my spine, prodding at my lower back. I look up, and there she is. The woman I’ve thought about every night for the last three weeks.

She’s a vision.

Her hair is lifted off her neck in a mess of braids pinned up into a bun shape. She’s wearing a turquoise flowing tank top and a pair of skintight black exercise pants. They have these cut outs in the thighs and calves where black sheer mesh offers a sexy swath of skin. Her wrists are loaded with bracelets, and a large crystal hangs down between her breasts, sparkling in the track lighting above. I watch, fascinated, as she lays out a dark-blue mat, sits down, places two bolsters on the ground, one under each knee, before she closes her eyes, places her hands together between her breasts, and bows her head.

I can’t breathe.

Her beauty slams into my being like a wall of warm light.

Enshrouding me.

Protecting me.

Loving me.

Her eyes open, and I swallow at the heavenly blues.

“Welcome, class. Today we’re going to focus on letting go. A lot of the time, we spend minutes, hours, days, and weeks wanting what we can no longer have or mourning something we have lost. It’s time for you to let that go. Whatever may be plaguing your mind, your being, your soul…” She blinks slowly and glances around the room until her eyes find mine. I can tell the moment recognition crosses her vision.

It's like a wave of energy or two magnets reaching for the other when our gazes meet. Still, she doesn’t falter in her words.

“If it’s not meant to be yours, let it go.” Her eyes stay locked on me. “Perhaps it was never meant to be yours in the first place.”

I can’t help but think she’s speaking just to me. Every word, every utterance of her breath seeps deep into my psyche.

My heart squeezes for an entirely different reason when she says four words that could very well change my life.

“Set your loss free.”