Goddess, Awakened. Cate Masters
man? Wincing, he sipped. His taste buds danced in delight at the refreshing fizzy liquid.
Her focus concentrated on his mouth and her smile returned. “Good, isn’t it?”
Unlike his evening. The way she watched him drink unsettled him. Awakened parts of him that, for the last five years, languished in a numbing, deep freeze. The shock of returning to life overwhelmed him. “Your aunt shouldn’t play at things she doesn’t know.” Neither should he. This woman was obviously out of his league.
Her shoulders stiffened. “My aunt does know. She’s been reading tarot and palms since I was a girl.” She turned the corner and disappeared down the hall.
Now he’d insulted her family. He had to make her understand. Following, he caught her arm. “She shouldn’t meddle. Not where people’s private lives are concerned.” Her silky softness invited his touch. He became sharply aware of every detail about her. A loose strand of hair flowing against the graceful curve of her neck. Hazel eyes ablaze with a fire he couldn’t fathom, but ignited sparks, surging along his veins like a lit fuse. Every impulse urged him to press her against the wall and taste her golden skin. Explore her curves.
Her lips parted and hovered open for blissful seconds. “I’m sorry.”
Her whisper hit him like a gale-force wind. It broke whatever spell he was under, and he stepped back. “No. I am.” For coming here. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him, grabbing her like that?
A glance to the other room revealed her aunt staring with an odd expression. Pity? Self-satisfaction?
He couldn’t get away fast enough.
Outside, he ripped away the mask and let it fall to the ground as he climbed in his truck. A fateful night, the aunt said. The only thing tonight portended was more social disaster. A destiny he seemed doomed to relive over and over.
Chapter 2
The sting remained with Joss long after Eric fled the inn. Deep-rooted pain emanated from him when he’d first entered, and his palm against her arm sent an electric shock straight to her bones. The poor man. Grief kept him its prisoner. Joss understood how easy it was to fall into that dark trap. The way he’d held her, he sought escape. Comfort.
He awakened deep-seated sensations in her. In the few moments with him, she’d felt more alive than she had in three years.
So strange. Normally, one look allowed her to see the person inside. With Eric Hendricks, her receptivity went into overload. His soul, pent up for years, stirred to life and churned up love, fear, joy, hopelessness, yearning, jumbled and shifting faster than light. He displayed great strength in his firm stance and gentle touch. Beneath a hard veneer of sheer pain, one other trait came through clearly—purity of spirit, and integrity enough for many men.
The arrival of more guests drew Joss to the foyer again. Another matronly witch and an older man wearing a checked flannel shirt, jeans, and boots stepped inside, followed by a princess and a boy in a fabric turtle shell.
Joss recognized the girl as one of the riders whose horse was boarded at the inn’s stable. After greeting them and pointing them toward refreshments, she returned to Lydia. “Sorry about Dr. Hendricks.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s wonderful you have so many guests.” Lydia fingered the flowers in the vase on the table.
One woman stood in the archway to the front room, her bright-eyed glare directed at Joss. Wearing a short white shift adorned with large red hearts, the woman held a wand topped with a glittering red heart.
Confused by the woman’s malevolence, Joss approached and fought to overcome the negativity oozing from her. “Did you try some of the booscotti?”
The woman tilted up her chin. “I’m not hungry, Mrs. Gibson,” came her familiar nasal reply.
Recognition finally hit. Of course—the girl who worked at the diner in town. “Sheree?”
At her curt nod, Joss forced a smile. “I love your costume.”
Sheree’s gaze darted her length. “Likewise.”
What could be her problem? The woman wielded her wand like a weapon, ready to strike. “Please have a drink and make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” Her narrowed eyes swept the room as if suspecting an ambush, and then she moved stiffly away.
Joss crossed the room to Lydia. “That was weird.”
Lydia whispered, “Be careful of her.”
“Sheree? I can’t imagine why.” Could she be nervous the inn would take away some of the diner’s business? Though Joss would have liked to think it was the cause of her strange behavior, Sheree’s vibes told Joss otherwise. Business had nothing to do with it. The waitress directed her bad juju at Joss personally. Had Joss unintentionally insulted Sheree? She’d barely met the woman.
Leaning close, her aunt spoke sternly, “I warned you to watch for others who seek the power of this place.”
Sheree? Her aunt must be mistaken. The woman’s terrible attitude resulted from something. Maybe an imagined slight? Joss would find a way to put Sheree at ease.
More guests entered, and Joss excused herself. She left Lydia deeply inhaling the air. Joss couldn’t deny the charged atmosphere was one of the reasons she’d bought the place. Not to tap into any lines of power for herself, but maybe to enhance the lavender field she planned. Joss needed the garden to thrive so the inn would as well.
Waving to the costumed guests arriving, she recognized Tom Larsen in his jodhpurs and riding jacket. The stable manager set her nerves on edge. He spoke too harshly to the horses, and they rebelled at his touch by tossing their heads and pinning their ears. Unfortunately, her opinion about Tom held no weight. The boarders chose their trainer based on their personal needs.
“Welcome.” Joss extended her hand. “I’m glad you could come.”
He grunted. “Where’s the bar? Drinks are free, right?”
She pointed him toward the refreshments table. “Of course.” Tonight they wouldn’t make any money to cover their expenses. The value would be in gaining recognition for the great food. Already, Annie’s werewolf cupcakes, booscotti and goblin cheese balls had practically vanished.
To her relief, the arrival of a cowboy and cowgirl nudged Tom ahead. Following, Joss welcomed a princess and prince, a jester and wench, and two clowns.
“Jocelyn.” Down the hall, Aunt Lydia waved furiously.
“What is it? Shh, Taz.” The fur on his neck stood up, and the dog growled beside her. What had gotten into him tonight? Maybe the same thing that had bothered Eric Hendricks. She sent a rueful glance toward the door the veterinarian had slammed on his way out earlier.
“The question is who,” Lydia said. “The man standing with the Queen of Hearts. Or princess, whatever she is.”
Following her aunt’s gaze, Joss froze in skin-crawling fear. “I don’t know who he is. And I don’t want to.”
He moved like a shadow, furtive and with the dizzying illusion he was underwater. Beneath his black face mask, red flashed in his eyes. When his gaze passed over her, so did a wave of nausea. Her heart flipped, and her stomach churned as if she rode a roller coaster through the dark, not knowing where the turns lay ahead.
The dog growled more fiercely. Grabbing hold of his collar, Joss gasped. “I wish that…person would just leave.” Maybe not a person at all, but something much darker.
She reached deep inside for the force of her heart. Go!
A deep rumble shook the ground. The windows rattled in their frames. Guests cried oh! and clutched at their chairs or one another.
“Not again.” Joss wished the disturbance would stop, and it faded away.
Lydia