Total pages in book: 5
Estimated words: 3993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 20(@200wpm)___ 16(@250wpm)___ 13(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 3993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 20(@200wpm)___ 16(@250wpm)___ 13(@300wpm)
“Sorry, Gideon. I’m almost done.”
“You’re all set,” I say, praying it sounds normal to them and not like the panting whimper it sounds like to me. The man, Gideon—she called him Gideon—growls as his eyes snap to mine. Are his eyes glowing?
“Thanks,” she says, reaching for the bag.
“Mate!” he shouts, making me jump and goosebumps erupt on my skin.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Geneva says, jerking the bag from the hook. “I’ll be in the car. I hear rather than see her leave because I can only stare at the huge man standing before me.
“Mate,” he growls again, reaching for me over the counter.
My head falls back when his hand touches my arm, and the room around me dissolves. We are transported to a forest I don’t recognize.
Okay, this is happening, and I can’t wait.
Chapter
Two
GIDEON BRADBURY
“Mate,” I growl before touching her. When we touch, we magically teleported to the woods. I’ve lost the ability to form complete sentences. We stare at each other as we stand beside an altar erected in the middle of nowhere. It’s made of white marble and has been repaired recently. Normally, this would alarm me; things like this don’t just happen—even to people like us, but she’s captivated me. I’ve been waiting for my mate for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been around since before the Civil War broke out. The Bradbury’s have been in the New World since the sixteen hundreds. We’ve always held prominent seats on the Council. My great-grandmother even managed to escape the sentence the court handed down when the trials were debunked. Thank God. History says she passed away at eighty-five peacefully in her sleep. If only people knew she’s masquerading as the pop star/actress Mary Berry.. Nan doesn’t age, and she uses it to her advantage. She loves the limelight.
On the other hand, I have done my damndest to remain under the radar. Staying in Boston all this time isn’t the smartest thing, but this is home. I feel connected to it in a very real, very visceral way. It’s magical. I’ve earned advanced degrees in medicine, political science, law, economics, criminal justice, finance, engineering, architecture, and computer sciences in my one hundred and eighty-three years. I’ve accrued a vast amount of personal wealth and helped to grow my family’s wealth. The only thing I haven’t done is find my mate until now, that is. This woman is… gorgeous. She’s tall, curvy, and all mine. Her dark eyes are piercing, and I want to reach out and touch her hair. That’s just crazy. I’ve gone insane. Perhaps this forest is just a shared psychological break, but the breeze on my face, pine scent, and birds' sound tell me otherwise.
“Calliope. My name is Calliope Stregone.”
“Gideon. I’m Gideon Bradbury.”
“Why have we been brought here?” she asks, looking around.
“I don’t know. Have you ever heard of anything like this ever happening?”
“No. Why are we so different? There has to be a reason.”
She steps away, and I automatically step toward her like a magnet.
I grab her hand, and we walk around the edge of the woods together. This is so weird. There is nothing around but the altar. When we turn back toward it, we can see that it's now bathed in an ethereal light and a woman is sitting on the edge of it.
“Welcome to The Wood.”
“Why are we here?” I ask while Calliope asks, “Who are you?”
“I’m Sorena, the Guardian of the Past.”
“I thought that was a myth,” Calliope says.
“Clearly not. I’ve brought you here for a purpose.”
“Which is?” I ask.
“You feel that tether between you don’t you?”
“Yes,” we say in unison.
“Then you know how rare this is. Of course, there are mates, mate fever, and everything, but this is more. I’m sure you have noticed that you are not just a normal warlock, Gideon. The Council has been watching you.”
“What’s so special about me?” I wonder aloud.
“Ichor,” Calliope whispers.
“Very good. You already know your mate so well,” Sorena says, smiling.
“You are descended from the demon Ichor. This was always meant to be. In this time and this place, you will join.”
“Are you watching?”
“Goodness, no. I am just here to answer questions; besides, I’ve got tickets to the Sox, and my mate wouldn’t be very happy if I missed the first pitch.”
”Wouldn’t want to miss that,” I say, laughing.
“So, no questions?”
“No. I’m good,” Calliope says.
“Me too.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it. It’s been prophesized that the child born of your first union will do great things—things you can’t even imagine. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, but I thought you should know.”
“Where can we find you again?”
“Boston, mostly. The Council meets on Tuesdays, but I’m around. Just conjure me up,” she says before snapping her fingers and disappearing.
“That was weird,” Calliope says.
“How did you know about Ichor?”