Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr Read Online Free PDF

vision, palm upward. Something about the shape of those long, blunt fingers both repelled and compelled her. The blue pulse at the inside of his wrist throbbed warm and strong, his life force vibrant.
    Beneath the table, she tugged the lacy gloves low. Nothing but her fingers must be bared on him.
    Then she sat forward, touching. The tips of his fingers curled in response, brushing sparks over the tender underside of her wrist through the lace.
    Desperately she traced the terrain of his palm, willing the images to come. His fate line ran unbroken through the valley of his palm—a man of exceptional self-control. His heart line showed him to be shrewd. The padded Venus mount at the base of his thumb was plump. A man of vitality, health, and stamina.
    Her abilities as a fortuneteller weren’t a total ruse. She could learn something of a person through touch. At least, enough to satisfy the average customer.
    But the remarkable abilities that had come to her with the onset of puberty had recently begun shifting. They were slowly draining away in some areas while increasing in others. Her ability to read Humans became less reliable with each passing of the moon. She prayed it wouldn’t fail her now.
    A sigh of relief left her lips when the mind mist enveloped her, calming her with its familiarity. Her eyes drifted shut, and she drew her fingers over him, occasionally following a crease or dusting over a mount. Just the barest, minute mixing of skin oils was all it took for a simple telling of fortunes. It was important to avoid melding. If she bonded further, parting sometimes caused her pain.
    “I see a forest,” she began. “An ancient forest. It surrounds a flourishing garden covering many hillsides. I see three brothers, three splendid homes.”
    She opened her eyes and pondered him curiously. Only Nick noticed how refined her accent had become.
    “Lord Satyr owns a large estate in Tuscany, along with his two younger brothers,” supplied Signorina Rossini. Her voice trembled with excitement that Jane had guessed correctly.
    Jane smiled at her. Now she had his name and residence. People were so free with information. Really, it made her efforts quite simple at times.
    Nick eyed her sardonically. “My estates and family ties are no secret. You will have to do better to earn your coin.”
    If she’d been wise, she would have fabricated a silly fortune and released his hand as soon as possible. It was no doubt what he expected. But she was overcome with an irrational desire to prove herself.
    She ducked her head and continued.
    “I see material wealth. Power. Passion.” She slanted him a glance through her lashes. “Concealment.”
    A subtle tension invaded his skin.
    Signorina Rossini giggled. “Passion! Goodness! And what could you be concealing, Lord Satyr?”
    His hand shifted so his thumb interlaced Jane’s two smallest fingers, stroking the tender skin between them. Deliberately?
    She was amusing, he thought. Her fingers were soft, her skin unlined and youthful beneath her ragged crone disguise. His curiosity was aroused. He shifted on his seat. He was aroused.
    Annoyed that she had caused his need to flare when it couldn’t be quenched, he smiled, flirting. Just to rattle her.
    As Jane stared at the full curve of his mouth, sudden shocking visions dashed at her like storm-tossed waves. She saw him in another time and place. He was standing. The muscles of his naked chest flexed and rippled in soft candlelight. Or was it moonlight? His features were raw and savage, and eyes glittered as he stared intently at—something. A woman. She was before him, bent over some sort of table. W—what was he doing to her?
    She gasped, realizing they must be copulating. Blushing, she snatched her hand away. The vision snapped off as though a door had slammed shut.
    Flames of interest lit his eyes.
    Surreptitiously, she wiped her fingers on her skirt. This was insane. What was she doing melding so closely? What if he were to