AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Eric set the heavy book in his lap. For as beautiful as the moonstone-covered book was, with its pearly sheen that glowed under the lamp’s light, it held the power to make nightmares come true. Within the book were instructions on the art of persuasion and how to enter a person’s dreams, induce sleep, and move among the shadows. He even had the power to control water and steal life. Each gift could be used for good or evil. His family had mostly used them for the latter. In his own way, he had too. His abilities made him good at his job. He’d rationalized it was for the greater good. That he was taking down people who needed to be brought to justice. But what about Sorrel? Was she deserving of his wrath? Something inside him told him no.
Then why had the book sent him to her?
He flipped to the last page. On the onyx pages, written in silver, were the instructions he’d been given for the last sixteen years, each one time-stamped like a journal entry. For once he wished it would tell him something he truly wanted, like, Bind yourself to Sorrel, no matter how guilty he would feel about punishing her with this godforsaken life he’d been forced to lead. He’d feel even worse for whisking her away from a life she clearly loved, but she would be his. Deep down he had this inexplicable feeling they could make each other happy. That was, after he ruined her life by writing an exposé on her.
Eric brushed his hands across the words that had ruled his life. The first message he’d ever received was, Your path has yet to unfold. You must prove yourself worthy of the destiny meant to be yours. It was as frustratingly cryptic as the most recent one. Take Raine Peters’s assignment. The story to be told has been in the making for many years. But how it ends will be up to you.
He knew exactly how he wanted it to end, but like he’d told Sorrel, he didn’t believe in fairy tales. He wasn’t meant for a happy ending.Chapter SevenI took my heels off and slung them over my shoulder before I walked up the steps to my apartment above the bakery, happy to have another successful wedding in the books. The cool feel of the metal steps soothed my tired feet. The breeze off the river made it all the more pleasant. I was looking forward to slipping into the tub and drinking some strawberry wine. As happy as the wedding had made me, I was still reeling from Eric’s betrayal, which was ridiculous. I barely knew the man. Yet, I felt scorned and found myself wanting to drown my sorrows in a lavender-infused bath.
For the first time in my life I had an inkling of how it felt to be mortal. I’d watched hundreds of rom-coms over the years and had wished for butterflies in my stomach and cheesy love songs to play on repeat in my head. I’d longed for the anticipation of seeing the object of my desire. I’d experienced all those things with Eric, but it wasn’t real. So why did it feel like it was? Why did my heart hurt for a man who didn’t exist? The Eric in my dreams was a figment of my imagination. Except when I’d touched him yesterday, he’d felt more real to me than anything.
This is insane, I berated myself. I should probably be thinking about an exit strategy, not what I would do with Eric in my dreams tonight if my brain should make him appear. Kudos to my brain for making that happen every night. Despite my fantasy life, I worried how deep the reporter would dig. More than that, I was furious he thought my father’s death was suspicious. He died of a heart attack, plain and simple. Not to say Eric wasn’t right about my mother’s death. Even the authorities questioned it, but they never recovered her body, and since I didn’t benefit financially from her death, I was never a suspect.
My father had been left a fortune by his parents, who had died when he was very young. Most of that fortune was carefully hidden in banks all over the world. My mother had access to her own wealth, curated over time by our family. Living for as long as we did had given us an advantage when it came to accumulating wealth. And there were plenty of countries around the world who were more than happy to overlook the oddities of our lineage as long as we both mutually benefited. I might have to take advantage of that soon, depending on what Eric wrote up about me.
The thought of leaving Riverhaven killed me. Half the town was ready to boycott the newspaper on my behalf and call for Eric’s head on a platter if his article disparaged me in any way. I was afraid that would be a losing battle. I’d called the editor and complained, only to be belittled. He said he had implicit confidence in Eric, and if Eric thought there was a story worth telling, he would bet his last dollar that he was right on the money. There was a story to tell, but not the one Eric was looking for. The real story was one that would probably turn the good people of Riverhaven against me. My abilities weren’t natural, and the only way to explain them would be to attribute them to something unholy. Not even I could explain where they came from. I knew my family legends weren’t going to fly. Not even I believed them. It didn’t matter how beautiful my gifts were. Or how I wished I could share them with the world, to heal every sick person I came across. If my secret got out, I would be ostracized or worse—exploited by governments and corporations.
