Chiromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts #8) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Seven Forbidden Arts Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
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“You mean like manipulate time?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Can you freeze time, or send someone forward or back in time?”

She chuckled. “Only a quantumancist can do that, but their existence is a myth.”

“How come you know so much about the subject?”

“When I figured out I had this ability, I started reading up.”

“Not much is public.”

“The history was recorded by monks in the Middle Ages. There aren’t many books, but if you look hard enough, you’ll find some.”

Most of those had to come from Lann’s library in Chile. It was one of the only libraries with books on the arts.

She kissed his good eye. “Your turn. Tell me about your accident. How did you lose your eye?”

He pulled her closer to him, drawing her thigh over his. “One day, I’ll tell you about it, but tonight is not the right time. Close your eyes. We’ve got to catch some sleep.”

She had to have been exhausted, because it didn’t take her long to drift off. When her breathing fanned evenly over his face, he gave in to the pull of sleep. A man had to stock up on rest while he could.

One never knew when trouble would strike.

It was still early when Sky lifted Bono’s arm and wiggled out from under him. She scribbled the number of the phone Godfrey had given her on a hotel notepad and left the paper on her pillow. Grabbing her boots, she left the room quietly and paused in the hallway to fit them. There wasn’t time to go home first. She got into the first taxi parked in front of the hotel and gave the driver the address of the club, her gut twisting in fear for Doumar’s reaction. The warmth of Bono’s arms was comforting, but her sleep had been fitful, plagued with worry over Niels.

At the club, a security guard took care of her taxi fare while she asked the doorman about Doumar’s whereabouts. The man informed her Doumar had been in last night but that he had left in the early morning hours to catch some sleep. Sick with nerves, she had a warm shower and dressed in the short latex dress and ripped stockings Doumar had set out the night before, and then she took her place at the fortune-telling table and started her work for the day.

Doumar arrived in the middle of her third session. He put his head around the door and said to her client in Dutch, “Take a hike. Your time’s up.”

The podgy man gave Doumar a perplexed look. “We’re not finished.”

“I say you are.” Doumar pulled a gun from his waistband. “Get the hell out, or do I need to shoot you?”

The man jumped to his feet. “I’m out.”

He didn’t give her or Doumar a second glance before rushing through the door.

Once they were alone, Doumar kicked the door shut. Sky swallowed. With a pasty complexion and unkempt hair, he looked like death warmed up. She’d never seen him with anything but a perfect hairdo. As he closed the distance between them, she kept her eyes on the handgun he spun by the trigger guard.

Stopping on the opposite side of the table, he leaned over and kissed her hard. “Aren’t you going to say good morning?”

“Morning,” she whispered, her heart beating in her throat.

He regarded her like a snake watching a mouse, all the while toying with the gun. “Aren’t you going to ask how I am?”

It was a trick question. There was only one answer, and it was a bad answer. Experience had taught her she’d be punished for his pain.

At her silence, he pounded his fist on the table. “I’m bleeding from my asshole, thank you very much for asking. Do you even care, slut?”

She jumped at the outburst. “I’m sorry.”

His face contorted with a snarl. “You better convince me. How about we do it here on this table, with you on your back?”

She clenched her jaw. Anything but that. He’d promised after Niels he’d never force her again. She’d rather take the beating.

“Why aren’t you naked yet?” he asked. “You have a lot of pleasing to do, telling me how sorry you are that you don’t give a damn about your owner getting raped, you lousy piece of shit slave.”

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No one can feel more empathy than me. Don’t forget, I know exactly what you went through.”

His hand holding the gun shook. “Have I allowed anyone other than me to touch you? Have I given you to five guys, all at the same time?” His voice raised in volume until it reached a crescendo. “Have I ever made you bleed when I fucked you?”

Her insides trembled both in fear for the present and in memory of what he’d put her through. “No, but you fucked me several times every day for one whole year, even when I begged you not to.”


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