Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Instinct tells me that something is off. That same instinct tells me I’m not going to solve this mystery unless I play along.
“Of course. Be right back.”
Chapter
Nine
Caden
Finally, Sydney leaves the room and sashays down the hall. I hate losing the stunning view. The woman is pure sex tightly packed in petite curves. One glance at her, and she revs me into overdrive. But I need to shelve my rabid libido and search for clues that might help me find Anka.
As soon as Sydney shuts her bedroom door, I jolt to my feet. If she has an appointment to see her source this weekend, surely she wrote down a time, an address, a phone number—something that would lead me to their meeting and make this crazy scheme worthwhile.
With the clock ticking, I yank open a nearby antique secretary between Sydney’s living area and kitchen. The little red diary isn’t here. I scan bills, pictures, a list of things to do, a little calendar with various handwritten dates inside…like Aquarius’s holiday. Unfortunately, no mention of where Sydney’s assistant is heading.
I right everything, then race to the kitchen. There, I find a shopping list and a collection of flyers for restaurants that deliver takeaway. Nothing else. I don’t care that Sydney is out of milk or that her local pizzeria has a November special.
Heaving a sigh of frustration, I shove everything back in place.
A fresh tingle and a cold sweat suddenly envelop me. Refusing to consider what they might mean, I scan the open living area. Her handbag sits on a little table near the front door. I hesitate…but I can’t afford to be squeamish about invading her privacy.
I unzip the bag. No sign of her phone, but I push aside her coin purse, keys, and lipstick to discover an old-school notepad with an attached pen. My hands shake as I flip it open. It’s littered with notes. Some large, some sideways, some in an odd shorthand I can’t decipher. I lift one page, another, a third… At the seventh, I strike gold. A whole page dedicated to the magickind story Sydney is slowly, foolishly revealing.
Saturday @ 4, A’s place, one of her notes says. Today, then. Who is A? Aquarius? Or Anka? Is it possible my brother’s mate got her own place since Mathias poofed her away? Why didn’t she simply return to Lucan? Where is she now? Somewhere hurting? Nothing on the bloody scrap of paper answers any of my questions.
Just below that is a list of seemingly random thoughts under the heading Possibilities. She’s written yet another list, this one of horrific possible stories.
Decomposition of bodies
Magickind living amongst humans?
Magical war/other battles
And most alarming:
Origin of the magic diary.
Shit.
Granted, any of these stories seems like a natural follow-up after writing about the battle in the tunnel. But if she writes a single word about the Doomsday Diary in Out of this Realm, Mathias will hunt her down within hours. He devours sweet morsels like Sydney, and the thought of what he could do to her makes my blood freeze and my rage burn.
He will touch her over my dead body…and I don’t want to think about why I’m so protective of a woman who’s merely my colleague. I mean, I barely know her. But I know I’ll die before letting Mathias hurt her.
Why I feel that way is something I’ll handle later.
The fumbling of a doorknob from the back of the flat alerts me. Sydney is returning, damn it. I wasn’t done searching.
Cursing, I shove the little notepad back into place, zip up her purse, then creep back to the living room, planting myself on the sofa.
Sydney steps in, wearing a pair of long, flowing pants and a curve-hugging sweater. I preferred the lingerie, but this outfit emphasizes how petite she is. Fragile. If I were to lay her down and cover her body with mine, I would completely envelop her as I molded every one of her lush little curves against my body…
Reckless thought. I’m losing what little spare room I have in the front of my jeans, and Sydney’s quizzical expression tells me that she’s done some thinking while she was changing.
That’s never good.
“What’s so urgent that you couldn’t wait until Monday? That you felt compelled to hunt me down over the weekend?”
As always, she’s straight to the point. Women I’ve dated in the past typically drive me mad with endless chatter about nothing important. The one woman I wish would prattle is far too driven for that.
“Sit.” I pat the sofa cushion beside me.
She settles in, eyeing me as if she can read my thoughts. I repress my urge to squirm.
“The office is always hectic,” I comment.
“We’re in a deadline-driven business. Your point?”
“That doesn’t leave us much time to…get acquainted.”
“You think that will improve our working relationship?"
“Perhaps, but that’s not why I’m here, Sydney. I want to get to know you, as a person.” I purposely drop my voice an octave and lean closer. “As a woman.”