Kindred of the Fallen Read Online Free PDF Page A

unless you beat me, it’d appear as though you were the one following me.”
    Her mouth hung open as she searched for the right words. “I’m sorry,” she muttered after an awkward, speechless moment. “For the way I acted earlier. I treated you—”
    “It’s forgotten,” he said in a gentle tone she hadn’t expected, yet appreciated. “Let’s not speak of it again.”
    An involuntary smile floated to her face.
    He looked up at the sky. “It’s a lovely night. You were smart to escape outside to enjoy it. Too bad the lights here block out the stars. Have you ever seen a sky filled with so many stars it stilled your soul?”
    Every care cluttering her mind evanesced. Her shoulders dipped, and she stroked the hollow of her neck. He had the richest, smoothest voice. Listening to him reminded her of the time she’d tasted a twenty-year-old bottle of Primitivo. The balance of the wine’s velvety softness with bold, complex flavors was like his voice, perfectly harmonious.
    “Would that be a yes or a no?”
    “No country skies filled with stars for me,” she said, wanting to have a normal conversation after her atrocious behavior earlier. “I never get a chance to get out of the city.”
    He adjusted his open shirt collar, drawing her focus to a glimpse of his bare chest.
    Her nerves tangled in a raw bundle between her ribs, like the sweet spot of a fireworks display, raining bright, hot flecks of joy and desire down her body. She tore her gaze from him, fearful she’d stare too long, took a step away and glanced over the balcony at the traffic below. Get a grip! Hot-looking plus smooth-talking equals trouble.
    “That’s a very interesting mark.” He moved in, the heat of his body caressing her, and brushed aside the curly wisps of hair barely concealing her birthmark. His fingers grazed her skin and electric sparks danced across her neck.
    Startled, she flinched. “Static electricity.”
    “Or kismet,” he said in a self-assured manner and reached for her hand.
    She stepped away, bumping into a potted Ficus tree, but he caught her before she fell.
    Blue-white sparks illuminated where his hot fingers curled around her arm. The spangle of light vanished. A figment of her imagination? Her body arched, drawn to him, and an unfamiliar sensation bloomed between her thighs. She stared at her elbow, where he held her in a firm grip.
    He released her arm. And her heart clenched.
    “Don’t.” Her pale voice sounded alien to her ears.
    “Don’t what?”
    Don’t let go. Flames dwindled and a chill swept up her spine. She smoothed her dress with shaking hands and her ring glinted in the light. Shame brought her crashing back to the harsh reality of her predicament.
    “Does it mean something, the mark?” he asked.
    She wrestled against the curious urge to touch him and leaned on the stone railing, putting ample space between them. “It’s a birthmark. It doesn’t mean anything.”
    “Even birthmarks can have meaning.” He raked wavy layers of hair from his face. The inky strands of silk swung forward from an off-centered part. The front was long, almost to his ears, and the back tapered nicely at his neck—an unexpected mix of polished and unruly.
    Her heart fluttered and her mind careened back to the feel of his fingers upon her skin.
    He edged closer and tilted his head. Light kissed his eyes, and they glimmered the deepest blue. He smiled. “I’m Cyrus.”
    “Serenity…” She shook her head, hoping to snap out of her lust-drenched daze. He already knows your name from the shop.
    He pushed the spiral curls framing her face to the side and tucked the hair behind her ear, stoking a brushfire through every strand of her nerves. “You should let people see your face.”
    Her toes curled. Heaven help me.
    “He’s looking for you.” A female voice came from behind them.
    A statuesque young lady, dressed in a navy suit with no shirt underneath and flat boots, approached with alacrity. Her coppery