Mia stared at the painting. The bold, bright colors reflected the lively little seaside town perfectly—but not her inner feelings. Today, her world ran in shades of gray and black. The depression had settled over her shoulders as soon as she awoke—a heavy blanket she desperately wanted to shake this warm summer’s day. Experience told her it wouldn’t shift for hours yet. And she had the village art fair to attend, so she needed to brighten up quickly.
She sighed and put down her paintbrush. Time to get ready. She’d take her buddy with her; he’d help her cheer up. She glanced at Marlow, her German Shepherd pup and best friend. Since she’d lost her mum, he represented her only family.
Determined not to start crying, she pushed thoughts of her mother aside and grabbed her shoes from the hallway closet. A walk into town would cheer her and get her head in the right place to greet people and chat about her art. She’d spent hours yesterday setting up her stall, and she’d hate to ruin her efforts.
Marlow bounded over when she pulled his lead out of the closet, making low, whining noises in the back of his throat. She decided to walk the beach way. It took longer, as some of the rocky bays needed careful traversing, but the day shone out, too glorious to miss the chance to be near the ocean. She opened the door to test the temperature. Oh, nice and warm. She wouldn’t need a jacket. She grabbed her light sweater and tied it around her waist and picked up her keys. Patting the pocket of her jeans, she was reassured by the hard shape of her phone; she was always forgetting it. They were good to go.
Marlow bounded about on the end of the lead for the first half a mile or so. At eighteen months old, he still had a lot of pup energy in him. She’d been training him, though, and he’d be a great companion and a good guard dog. Not that she needed one as such. Marlow was more to protect other people from her than her from any danger. Since the age of twelve, Mia had known she was different, and her difference came in a possibly fatal ability to conjure up fire. Her mum had told her to keep her talent secret, lest it cause them trouble. And to this day, Mia had done so.
It made for a lonely life, but she didn’t care much. She had a handful of friends and didn’t need more, and her two romantic relationships had proven more than disappointing, so she didn’t crave love. Although, she sometimes enjoyed some no-strings-attached fun with a tourist. To be honest, she worried she’d become something of a misanthrope. Oh, she enjoyed a brief chat with the people in town, but she didn’t want to take it further. Her oldest friendships were carried out mostly via the phone these days, and new friendships tended to be of the online variety, due to her membership in several groups for artists.
It wasn’t that she disliked people. Rather, she knew, soul deep, she didn’t fit in. Somehow, their concerns didn’t match her own. At one point, she’d tried, but conversations about petty friendship rivalries, politics, and who had won X Factor held no interest for her at all.
They reached the seashore, and she bent and unclipped Marlow’s lead. He shot off to the water’s edge, zigzagging up and down as if chasing a scent. His tongue already lolled, and she knew he’d be grateful of the drink he’d get at the local pub once they reached town. The place always had a water bowl out for customer’s dogs, and they didn’t mind if you stopped and let your canine companion have a drink on your way by.
They reached town forty minutes later. Marlow had taken his time on the beach, and she’d been happy to let him. The warm day began to feel positively hot, and she fancied an ice cream from the local parlor.
“Hello. How are you two today?” Mrs. Shefton, the postmistress, waved from outside her shop door.
“Good, thanks. And you?”
“Not bad. Not bad.”
She knew Mrs. Shefton was anything but not bad. The poor woman had lost her husband only six months earlier. And Mia’s own, good, thanks, had been an outright lie, but she liked it this way. The surface friendliness never went too deep.
Low voices behind her had her turning around to see three young, attractive men strolling behind her. Their tans and sun-lightened hair told her they were most likely here for the yachting. She saw the moment one of them clocked her. His eyes widened, and he stared for a moment too long.
She’d always had an uncanny ability to read people. Picked up on when they were scared, happy, or sad. Or when they were sexually interested in someone. Like this guy, right now. She didn’t think herself particularly good-looking. In fact, she thought her features and coloring a little odd. And her figure could certainly stand to lose a few pounds, but men clearly found her pretty enough, and often reacted to her in the same way. She rarely responded to it, but every once in a while, she would turn and smile, and if the guy struck up a conversation, she might have a fling or even a one-night stand, nothing serious. Nothing long term. Today, as so many times in the last year or so, she didn’t have any interest, so she looked away and quickened her pace. Her damn libido had packed its bags and gone on holiday.
She headed toward the pub at the end of the main road. The town consisted of one long main street and a few small, narrow roads off it that headed uphill toward high fields and farmland. The houses and shops on the main road were a mix of beautiful Georgian and Victorian architecture, and the streets leading off it contained an assemblage of old cottages, many painted in bright colors. With the seafront and beyond the strait and the mountains on the mainland, the place dazzled her soul with its beauty. No wonder she returned to painting it over and over.
Luckily for her, the regular influx of tourists loved to take home souvenirs of their holiday, and her work sold in good numbers through a few art galleries on the island. They reached the pub, and Marlow took a few long, greedy laps at the water bowl.
She watched one couple holding hands with their gorgeous toddler as the little girl trotted between them, wobbling on plump legs.
Mia found herself frowning as she watched the happy scene. She’d never wanted kids of her own. Her mum’s passing made her think about it more, though, and wonder if maybe she would want a family of her own one day. But her periods had always been horribly erratic. She went months without her cycle. Her mum used to tell her not to worry. That it was a Blake family trait. But then she’d found the box with all the papers in Mum’s attic and realized her whole life had been a lie and that she wasn’t a Blake at all, but adopted at age four.
The worst of it had been realizing how deep the lie went. As a young girl, she’d had memories of her other mother. But whenever she talked about the woman with the dark hair and the flashing eyes, Sheila told her it was nothing more than a dream. Silly nonsense, rather than memories. She told Mia to forget all about it and not talk about it. Just as she had the strange dreams Mia’d experienced where she’d fly up high and blow fire from her mouth. Or the way she read people far too easily. Most of all, her mum had told Mia she must never discuss the terrible gift they’d discovered the day she’d been trapped in a neighbor’s shed. Locked in by a so-called friend, she’d grown panicked until, acting on instinct, she pushed her hands against the wood of the door and let the heat build until flames broke out. She’d stood there as the door burned right next to her and hadn’t been even a tiny bit hot. It burned so fast and bright, she’d easily been able to kick through the weakened wood and walk straight through the flames and out to freedom.
She shook her head, physically trying to shake off memories of the past. She’d been born a freak. An outsider, and she’d never fit in. But she now had Marlow, and she didn’t need people, not when she had her animal friend.
She reached the village hall and stepped inside the cool space.
Twenty artists were showing their work in the converted church hall today. The space was used for a variety of local civic functions and meetings, and next door, down the corridor, there sat a lovely coffee shop and tea room.
She had a small table and six easels set up with some of her best original art. Four racks held various limited-edition prints, along with postcards, prints, and framed pictures. These sorts of events didn’t normally net her much in the way of money on the day, but they did help gain new buyers and fans of her work. People would take one of her business cards or perhaps buy a postcard, and for every six or so who did, one would contact her online and buy a piece. It added nicely to her income from the local galleries and gave her sales without having to pay a middleman.
The event started at ten, but only now at nearly eleven did people start to filter into the hall.
She tied Marlow to the table leg and went off in search of a doggy bowl and water for him and coffee for herself. Ten minutes later, she’d settled herself down with both of them provided for. She took a sip of her coffee, still steaming in its Styrofoam prison, and closed her eyes at the delicious taste. She’d been naughty and ordered a mocha, despite wanting to lose a few pounds. These exhibitions were long days of having to be social, and she needed the pick-me-up.
People drifted into the hall in small groups and meandered around, so she plastered on her game face and hoped she looked perky and bright. Showtime!
*****
The sun dipped behind a cloud at the same moment Aiden entered the clan meeting hall. He suppressed a shiver as he slid into a seat at the back of the room.
The rumors were a latent female had been found. Another dragon out there in the world with no one to guide her, no mates, no clan. Same as the female the Scottish clan had found. Not knowing who or what she was. Dangerous all around. What the fuck any of it had to do with him, though, he had no clue.
Hating feeling so out of place in his own home, he put his head down and fiddled with his phone. His foot tapped against the stone floor as he waited for the room to fill up with his dragon brethren. He’d been called back from a particularly fruitful trip to South America for this, so it had better be good. And what was with the crack of dawn start time?
Pairs of dragon males wandered into the room, and for a moment, he felt the familiar pang. The one he always experienced when he saw happily bonded males. The one he felt even more strongly when he saw mated males with their female. He’d tried to find a male to bond with, but his problem was he’d gone and fallen head over heels in lust with the most unobtainable male in their clan, and in doing so, signed himself over to a life of loneliness.
The rules of their kind meant without a bonded male he couldn’t take a female mate. And he’d never found anyone else he wanted to bond with since the fateful day he’d met him. Steffan. The clan outcast. Gods, how Aiden would love to get close to the male for a few hours. And the kicker of it was, they matched. The few times he’d been near Steffan, he’d scented him and known they’d make an amazing bonded pair.
He looked around the room and sighed again, already missing the feeling of soil sifting between his fingers. It had been a promising dig until the terse text had him hopping on the first plane out of there yesterday. Now he had to sit here in a place he never felt truly comfortable. The doors banged, and Robert, the Welsh clan’s leader, entered the room with his bonded male and female mate by his side. He headed to the front and took a seat on the slightly elevated stage. Robert cleared his throat and started to speak.
“Fellow clan members, thank you for gathering here today. As many of you know, the Scottish clan found a latent female living in the human world, in the form of their leader’s mate, Claire.”
A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd. A clear swell of energy he sensed easily. Aiden possessed the ability to read others, an ability shared by most dragons, but he didn’t practice or refine the skill any, preferring to mind his own business.
Robert ignored the murmurings and mutterings and continued. “It turns out there are more like her out in the world, most likely unaware of what and who they are. Nathan sent teams of males out to try to find these siblings, and we’ve set some of our most powerful females to track them using their magic. We even went so far as to hire investigators from the human world to help and then scrubbed their minds after. None from our clan was involved in this. I accepted it might be a difficult request of my members that you help track down dragons with lineage to a clan that did us harm. However, it has come to light that, so far, two possible female relations to Claire have been found. One in America, and one here, in Wales. Very near to us. Both are females.
“In this instance, I don’t think it right to keep our distance and stay uninvolved. And we owe a tithe of apology to Nathan and his clan. He has agreed to let us repay the debt by bringing Mia here, if only for one night. To prove once more our commitment to the peace—and our love for our Scottish brethren. This is a great honor he bestows upon us, trusting our clan this way, after the unfortunate events of last year.”
The murmurs built, and Robert narrowed his eyes. One steely glare and the room quietened. “I’m sending three clan members to meet with this female. To teach her what she is, see if she will come to meet our clan, and wait here for her family, for Claire, to join her. It’s only a short trip into the mountains, and we are hopeful she can be persuaded. It is dangerous to leave these dragons out in the world, for if they are ever sick or injured, the humans will find out they are not one of them. Our secret will be in peril. We decided long ago not to mix with other shifters or supernatural brethren, so in this world, we are alone. We cannot afford discovery.”
People were nodding, some shaking their heads, and others looking to their neighbors, eyes wide.
“The two females, Kate and Rhiannon, will go meet with this latent. And our unbonded male, Aiden, will go with them.”
Heads turned his way, and Aiden’s throat tightened. Why him? What the hell? It made no sense. Robert’s next words made him grit his teeth.
“I don’t wish to send bonded males in case they match with this female in any way. Then we will face a situation whereby some of our clan males wish to claim a female we have no right to view as one of our own. She may wish to remain here with us for a while, or she may wish to join her sister in the Scottish clan. Mating entanglements will only make things more complex. Aiden?”
Robert looked at him with serious eyes. “You will go with the two females and meet this latent. You will bring her here, and her sister and her bonded males will come to visit her here.”
He nodded, but inside he seethed. For fuck’s sake, he’d found an impressive archaeological haul. One possibly to show finally how important dragons had been in early human civilization, and he’d been dragged back here to babysit? And not babysit anyone, but some Havsa trash. He didn’t think too much of the Havsa clan after the fuckers had murdered his aunt and two cousins. Yes, the Welsh clan had responded with incredible force, but he, for one, felt it justified.
“Why would she want to come here? Half the people in this room hate the Havsa.”
The deep, rough voice came from the back of the room, making every hair on Aiden’s neck stand on end. He recognized the voice. It haunted his dreams.
“I swore an oath to Nathan that she will be safe here, and anyone in this clan who harms, or even says something nasty to her, will face severe punishment. Anyway, you have no say in this, Steffan.” Robert kept his tone calm, controlled. “You choose to live apart from us, and we respect your wish, but it means you don’t get a voice in our decisions.”
“I want to go meet the female.”
A collective gasp went around the room. Aiden twisted around in his chair to look to the back of the room.
As usual, one glance at the male hit him straight in the gut. Steffan looked even better than the last time they’d crossed paths. His messy, shoulder-length dark hair held some warm brown and dark blond highlights, probably from the sun. His dark skin made the tribal tattoo—an original, not some pale modern imitation—less clear. His eyes were a silvery glow in his face and not the sometimes warmer golden hue they took on. Aiden didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone whose eyes changed color so dramatically.
“This concerns you not,” Robert snapped.
“Oh, but it does. I met Claire, and I liked her. Admired her. And my old friend Nathan has asked me to be involved. I am to ensure this female’s safety. After what happened with Ice…Claire…at the hands of our clan, you must understand their worry. So, you see, it does concern me.”
Robert reared back as if hit. “You discredit our clan with your words. The violence done to her did not come from my orders or with the support of anyone in this room. And since when were you friends with anyone?”
Aiden’s neck ached from swiveling it back and forth to track the exchange between the two males. Steffan still stood at the entrance to the hall, looking completely unperturbed at the clan leader’s anger with him.
“Nathan came to visit me a few times and brought his mates with him. We go back a long way.”
Aiden couldn’t believe what he heard. The guy who he’d envisioned as some loner had visitors from other clans. He might be hot, but the general consensus was that Steffan wasn’t all okay in the head. The guy literally lived in a cave, for the sake of the gods. Dragons didn’t do that sort of medieval shit anymore.
Aiden snorted, and those silvery eyes suddenly focused right on him like laser beams. He struggled not to shrink back in his chair.
Steffan merely grunted and then he smiled. A blinding show of white teeth against dark skin and even darker scruff. He looked like a damned pirate. A mad, bad, and dangerous-to-know pirate. All he needed was a parrot and a cutlass, and he’d be set.
“Aiden,” Rhiannon scolded him. “No need to be rude. I, for one, am happy for Steffan to accompany us. If there’s any danger or trouble from anywhere, he’ll be a great asset.”
Rhiannon and Kate both held positions of great importance in the clan, being on the female council and both possessing strong magic. Rhiannon was one of the most powerful healers the dragon world had, a Warder and a protector of the clans and bloody ancient, to boot.
Okay, so she wanted Steffan along. Fair enough. And, yes, the dude was tough. But did she think Aiden incapable of protecting them? He might not want to go on this jaunt, but if he had to, he’d rather not be pushed into proximity to his…crush. “What am I? Chopped liver?” he muttered under his breath.
“Two males are better than one.” Rhiannon reasoned. Of course, she’d heard him.
He didn’t want to get into an argument with her. The female held too high a rank in their clan, so he merely shrugged, but inside his emotions raged. Pissed-off anger vied with a scary surge of excitement at the idea of spending time with the male who haunted his erotic dreams.
“If Steffan goes, then there’s no need for Aiden to go along, too.” Robert addressed Rhiannon.
The female looked from Robert to Steffan and finally to Aiden, and he swore he saw a twinkle in her eye. “Oh, I think I’d feel much better having two males, as I said, Robert. If you please.”
For a moment, Robert appeared to be about to say no, but his shoulders sagged imperceptibly and he sighed. “I’ve not the time for this. Take them both. But, you—” Robert pointed at Steffan “—damn well behave yourself out there. You represent this clan when you go out into the world, and I don’t want any disgrace brought upon our heads because of your actions.”
Aiden had to admire Robert’s balls. Steffan could take Robert apart in a moment if he so wished. In a straight-out battle for dominance, Robert would lose. And he’d lose badly. But the clan had a strict hierarchy, and the female elders wouldn’t take kindly to Steffan going postal on Robert’s behind. So, for now, he clearly felt safe to assert his dominance.
“You must pack immediately and leave this morning. We got word yesterday that the female will be at an open art fair where she lives, and you must meet her there. Pretend to be buyers for her art.”
Marvelous. His day got better and better. Finally, the meeting came to an end, and Aiden found himself standing in a small group containing Robert, Steffan, Rhiannon, and Kate. He tried his hardest not to inhale Steffan’s delicious scent, but it proved hard to ignore.
“Okay. This is the young woman we found, Mia Rogers,” Robert said. “She lives alone with only her dog. No family. There was an incident in her past—she set a shed door alight from the inside whilst being locked in, and social services were involved, along with mental health services. It’s how we found her. One of the notes in the file said it struck the authorities as very odd how only the door burned and nothing around it. It sent a red flag to our private investigator who found the information.”
Robert held up a picture, and Aiden got a good look. He’d seen Claire, briefly, and this girl looked similar, but not exactly the same. She looked softer, less striking but prettier. She carried more weight, and it gave her curves, along with a more rounded face. Her coloring too was similar, but not identical. Her hair shone a dark brown but with warmer tones, her skin still olive but paler. The most startling difference came with her eyes. Whereas Ice owned eyes the color of the clearest tropical sea, this girl possessed the same arresting aqua around the edges, but they faded to a warm, mossy-gold at the center of her irises. They were astonishing, and he could spend an age looking at them. She was beautiful. He understood Robert not wanting to send bonded males. If their scents matched in any way, they’d likely push Mia to be with them. “So the brief is bring her back here, if she is amenable. Then Nathan, Ice, and Dom can come visit.”
“Yes, sir.” Steffan gave a mock salute.
Aiden saw Rhiannon roll her eyes, and he bit back a smirk. The next few days would be…different.
Seemed he was about to properly meet one of the legendary Havsa women…and get to spend time with Steffan. Life had just gotten very interesting indeed.
An hour later, Aiden stood outside his house with packed bags at his feet as he tried to calm his nerves. A rugged figure approached, and he recognized Steffan even from far away. His long legs ate up the uneven ground in a sure, confident stride. Although…did he limp slightly on one leg?
As he neared, Steffan scowled, so Aiden tried to school his expression into something casual and natural. The man looked good enough to eat, damn him. He’d changed, and now he wore faded jeans and an old rugby shirt. The shirt clung to his broad shoulders and highlighted the perfect V shape he had going on.
Mouth suddenly dry, Aiden swallowed and looked away. He hoped Rhiannon and Kate weren’t going to be long.
Something made him look up, only to find Steffan looking at his house, the expression in his gaze unreadable. Aiden turned and looked at it, too. He loved his little home—for short periods of time. Small, only one bedroom, but he didn’t need anything larger. Of course, too long on clan land and he started to itch with the need to get away, the familiar pull to travel and learn. The need not to be trapped by the place and the life the way his father had been.
“Don’t know how you can stand it,” Steffan muttered.
Aiden frowned. “Stand what?”
“Living somewhere so small and poky.”
He laughed. “Dude, you live in a cave. A cave! No windows. Cold, dark. Low ceilings. I love my house, but I’m hardly ever here anyway.”
“My cave is nothing as you imagine. Why aren’t you here?”
“Because I’m away on archaeological digs much of the time. I have a few human contacts who have no idea what I am, and they let me go on digs with them. I only go on those related to human and dragon interaction. Most humans think the dragon symbols they find are merely to do with myth and legend, but of course, I know different.”
Steffan turned to him. “You dig up evidence of dragon culture? From the past?”
Aiden nodded, suddenly uncomfortable with the focus of the other male.
“Hmm. Interesting.”
“It is interesting. There’s such a rich history, but we have lost much of it as it isn’t written down endlessly in the same way human history is. We worked with the humans, then we fought them, and at times, we fought other dragons. It’s…fascinating. Things are so boring now.”
Steffan grunted. “Be thankful for boring. Those times brought much loss.”
Aiden didn’t have an answer to that. Nor to the heavy sorrow weighted in Steffan’s words, so he shut up.
The next few days were going to be pure torture. His attraction to the older male came with a side order of intimidation and a low, simmering resentment. He hated it. Normally, he spent his days in a happy state of equilibrium, not dealing with this churned-up bag of emotions. He didn’t deal with emotions. Or people, really. Which he supposed gave him and the other male something in common. They were both loners, the only difference being the degree to which they shunned society.
Steffan went whole hog and barricaded himself away in his cave up the mountain. Aiden chose instead to run away on a regular basis, spending his time with dusty bones and old artifacts.
A huge off-roader pulled up, Rhiannon at the wheel, and Aiden’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the sight of the two females in the vehicle. Steffan clambered into the front seat next to Rhiannon, and Aiden climbed into the back next to Kate, thankful he didn’t have to sit close to Steffan the whole way there.
Rhiannon careened down the mountainside like a rally driver,and by the time they entered the small coastal town of Pentref Tawel, Aiden’s stomach threatened to bring up his breakfast. He almost fell out of the car when it ground to a halt, and he took in great big gulps of blessed sea air.
The tiny town looked postcard perfect. They were staying in a holiday rental for a few nights, in case it took a while to persuade Mia to return with them to the clan.
The house sat across the road from them, facing the main thoroughfare and the seafront beyond. They’d have spectacular views. Trying to ignore his shaking legs from the last thirty minutes of extreme nausea, he opened the back of the SUV and started to drag out their bags.
With no time to look around, they all hauled ass up the stairs and dumped their bags into their rooms.
*****
Four hours after setting up her stall, Mia had grabbed a quick lunch and a cuppa and returned to her table. She sat and watched the crowd move around for a few minutes, then she picked up her book and tried to read. The reading passed the time, but she’d also learned over the years it helped bring people to her table. If you stared out at the crowd, always looking for a sale, it put people off. But sit back and wait for them to come to you, and they tended to drift over. Once they’d spent some time looking at her art, she’d casually lift her head and offer a smile. Only then, if they smiled back and maintained eye contact, would she perhaps begin to chat with them. It worked for her, and she preferred it. She wanted to be an artist, not a saleswoman. If it meant picking up a few months’ worth of shifts at one of the out-of-town supermarkets when things got tight, so be it.
At the far end of the hall, she noticed a tallish young man enter, flanked by two women who looked to be anywhere from their early forties to possibly early fifties. It proved hard to tell, but the one with the darker hair looked the oldest. Maybe midfifties, even. The guy snagged her attention away from her musings because, quite frankly, he was gorgeous. Pretty enough to break through her inertia and seemingly terminal lack of desire these days. Blond hair, green eyes, and a tan made him glow with health and vitality and stand out in the room. He smiled at something one of the women said, revealing perfect teeth. The trio meandered about the room, and she watched them for a moment until, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone else. Someone who sucked up every single molecule of her attention.
Striding into the room came a guy so striking, she did a double take. Tall, very tall, and broad as a house, he loomed over everyone in the vicinity. His sharp gaze flitted around the room, and she found herself hoping it didn’t land on her. Despite his undeniably handsome face, his size and stern countenance made him intimidating as hell.
His eyes moved around the room like a hawk looking for prey. Everything about him screamed strength and power. His movements were lazy, deceptively so, and she knew he could unfurl the speed and strength he locked down the moment he needed it.
He reminded her of the pictures of highwaymen and vagabonds from the children’s picture books she used to read. He dressed in modern clothes, but he didn’t seem to fit them—or the modern world in general. He stood out in the most obvious and glorious way. As if someone had taken an ancient heirloom and stuck it in a cheap furniture store amongst all the modern, throwaway tat.
She ducked her head back to her book and once more tried to read, too unnerved by his presence to keep watching him. Only when she realized she’d gone over the same line four times, did she once more look up.
The gorgeous blond and the two women stood to one side of her table, looking at her work. He glanced her way and smiled, warming those pretty eyes of his. Something about him, about them all, struck her as strangely familiar. A warm, vanilla scent filled the air when he moved and made her want to reach out and trail her fingers down his tanned arm. He turned his face to her and inched closer, but as he neared, the smile dropped from his features.
Unable to care about his seeming displeasure, she focused on her own problems. Her heart pounded as he neared, and it raced far too fast. Trying to take a deep breath and control herself, she froze in her seat—the proverbial deer in the headlights—as he frowned at her, his lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
A shadow fell across the blond, and a brief glance to the side showed the vagabond in their midst.
Her gaze crept upward, slow because she wasn’t sure if she dared look at her highwayman straight on.
As if time had slowed, she crawled her way up his body, taking in the hard lines and angles of him until she reached her destination. Her eyes met his, and the go-slow time seemed to flat out stop. No one had eyes that color. Their strange silvery-gold light shone out of his face, molten and hot. As he took her in, eating up her features, his eyes grew warmer in tone.
“This can’t be happening,” the blond said under his breath.
What did he mean? She glanced at him but found herself drawn back to the vagabond, sucked in by the tractor beam of his gaze.
“I’ll be damned.” He ran a hand over his square jaw and shook his head. “Fuck me.”
When he moved his arm, a breeze washed over her, and Mia swore she scented the ocean, but underneath, lying in wait, something muskier, spicier, and oh-so-sinful. Her core throbbed and she fidgeted a little in her seat, her face heating.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” one of the women said. “You two look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” She laughed at the big scary man and rolled her eyes. “Males! Allow me. My dear,” she addressed Mia, “we’re interested in your art, and we’ve come a long way to meet you.”
Forcing herself out of the strange stupor she’d entered, Mia turned to the woman and plastered a smile on her face.
“Oh…erm…that’s lovely. I hope you’re not disappointed. You can see it all online, though.” She didn’t want to seem rude, but something about this party struck her as deeply odd.
“Be that as it may, we’d like to talk to you in person. We’re interested in perhaps purchasing quite a lot of your work.”
“Do you represent a gallery?” She tried not to get her hopes up, but she wondered if they’d come from a London gallery or something. This might be her break into the big time.
“Something like that. We’d need to explain it all to you in person. In private, too. Not here. Can we possibly come to your home? Have a talk with you?”
Normally, she wouldn’t hesitate to say yes, but she glanced at the dark-haired man again and swallowed. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him—which made her a total hussy as she liked the blond just as much—but the dark-haired one scared her too. God, his face! He looked like he’d been carved out of the stone the mountains themselves sprang from. So much for her not having any desire left. Maybe it had been dormant due to her grief? And to be fair, these guys were so spectacular, they’d make a nun rethink her vows.
They’d asked her something, hadn’t they? She scrambled her brain for an answer.
“Erm, I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t normally invite strangers into my home.”
“Oh?” The woman narrowed shrewd eyes. “My mistake, I thought I’d read something about you welcoming prospective buyers into your studio so they can see your work on a more intimate level.”
Oh, crap. The local paper interview last year. It would be online, and anyone looking into her could read it. Shit, what to say?
The woman with the long dark hair shot through with streams of gray leaned forward and placed her hand on Mia’s. At her light touch, a warm glow covered Mia’s skin, so lovely and welcoming. Like a log fire after a long, cold day. “Please, my dear. Let us come and visit you. We only want to talk.”
Mia’s fears scattered like the clouds, and she couldn’t remember why she’d been worried in the first place. These lovely people wanted to come and see her art. Perhaps buy some of it, maybe a lot of it. Yes, she’d love to have them visit.
“Of course, you must come. How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is marvelous. Thank you. We will see you then.”
They turned and walked away, the two women looking around at the art. The blond stared at the floor, and the dark one looked straight ahead, right until he reached the door. Then he turned back and gave her one last, lingering glance.
She felt it all the way to her damned toes.