By Lexi C. Foss
The lines between illusion and reality blur as a dark romance brews between two unlikely soulmates…
Stas isn’t your average human. She can bend others to her will, a psychic talent she’s kept hidden since the brutal murder of her parents.
Issac isn’t human at all. He’s an immortal masquerading as one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors while secretly seeking revenge against a former ally.
A fateful meeting ends in a seductive proposition. As their lives intertwine, secrets are exposed and passion ignites. It’s a bond built to last a lifetime, if they’re willing to risk everything to protect it.
“I’m curious. How old were you when you realized you could bend others to your will?”
She forced herself to reply. “What?”
“Oh come now, Astasiya, feigning ignorance doesn’t suit you. Order me to do something instead. I dare you.”
A violent tremor shook her, rendering her speechless. For years she had kept a lid on her abilities, playing it off whenever the occasional demand slipped. It was easy to laugh off coincidences with normal people, but there was nothing normal about this man. He would see right through any charade she threw up as was evident by his blatant dare.
“I thought it might be coincidence with the hysterical woman.” He pushed off the wall, his steps casual as he sauntered towards her. “Persuasion is a very rare gift, after all.” He stopped just in front of her to tuck a stray blonde strand behind her ear. “But that reporter was all you.”
She forced herself to swallow, mouth dry. “How long have you been watching me?”
“Long enough.” His intimate gaze stroked over her, touching on all the places that could make a woman squirm. “It’s customary for one in my position to kill you on sight. Fortunately for you, darling, I’m not an admirer of our archaic laws.”
His little complication was playing with fire. He welcomed the challenge and the change in air between them. It was starting to feel a little melancholy during their walk down memory lane. Now they were back on track. “Are you trying to deal with me, Miss Davenport?”
Fierce green eyes met his, provoking all manner of inappropriate thoughts. Like what they would look like in the throes of passion. “No, I’m giving you my terms.”
He nearly laughed. No woman ever gave him terms for a date.
“I will give you two answers.” He tucked a soft strand behind her ear and let his fingers drift down her neck. “And I will consider defining Ichorian more clearly for you.” By showing, not telling.
She licked her lips and shook her head. “Three answers and you define Ichorian now.”
He moved into her personal space, gripping her hip with one hand to hold her in place when she tried to move away. Their foolish conversation had already gone on longer than he intended. “We leave at seven.” He bent so their mouths were a hairsbreadth apart. “And I will only answer your three questions after the gala, not before or during.”
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