Shades of the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page B

sanity.
    What in the gods’ names was she talking about?
    “Not the gods, milady.” Nyria laughed as her voice became nothing more than an
    echo down the stairs. “There are no gods at Anubeion!”
    Catherine slapped a hand against the door panel and turned away. She knew defeat
    when she’d been handed it and until morning—when she could speak with the
    prince—there would be nothing she could do.
    Flouncing on her bed, she sat there with her chin propped in her hand, flinching
    now and again as the lightning continued to stitch through the heavens. Though she
    kept listening for the beast, the howling had stopped and even the thunder had ceased
    to boom quite so fiercely. Heaving a sigh, she was about to blow out the lamp when she
    heard a clicking sound at her door and looked that way.
    “Nyria?” she questioned but was met with silence.
    22
    Shades of the Wind
    Curious, she got up and padded over to the door. She placed her ear against the
    wood but heard nothing out in the hall. She tried the door handle and was surprised to
    find it twist in her hand. With infinite care, she opened the portal and looked out into
    the hall.
    There was no one about and if Nyria had had a change of heart and unlocked the
    door, the least she could have done was inform her, Catherine thought. Leaving the
    door ajar, she slipped out into the hall, looking both ways down the shadowy corridor
    but seeing no one lurking about.
    The stairs creaked only in a few spots as she slowly made her way to the ground
    floor. She took the back hallway and stopped only long enough to peer out the
    mullioned window, searching for the animal that had been making such a mournful
    sound. When she couldn’t see beyond the deep veranda that bordered the back of the
    mansion, she unlocked the door and slipped out onto the veranda and went to the
    railing.
    Rain was still coming down hard, cascading over the veranda’s overhang in silvery
    sheets. The smell of wet, fecund ground was somehow comforting and Catherine stood
    there with her hands on the porch railing, drawing the cool, damp scent deep into her
    lungs, reveling in the gentle mist that blew in from the rain to speckle her face.
    It felt like a dream when arms slipped to either side of her, imprisoning her against
    the railing. She looked down at strong-looking hands that curled possessively over hers
    and felt a warm body press against her back. Soft lips touched the side of her neck.
    “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice sounding strange to her.
    “Taking what is mine,” he said. His words were little more than a whisper of breath
    against her shoulder.
    She felt lightheaded and the world seemed to canter off center for a moment. Her
    head fell back against his hard shoulder and he lifted her hands from the railing and
    crossed them in front of her, trapping her in his strong arms.
    “This isn’t right,” she said.
    He didn’t answer for his lips had moved to her shoulder and his tongue was
    making darting spirals upon her flesh. There was a slight nip and she cried out, but
    almost immediately the sting was soothed.
    She felt her womb lurch and then he was lifting her in his arms, holding her to his
    brawny body. In the darkness, she could not see his face but the warmth of his body
    lulled her and she closed her eyes as he turned from the porch and carried her back into
    the house.
    Floating on a sea of desire, lost in the arms of a passionate warrior whose body was
    hard and strong and lusty, Catherine let herself drift, unable—and unwilling—to stop
    what was happening to her. As he placed her on his soft bed and pulled off her robe
    and gown, eased the slippers from her feet, all she cared about was how it would feel to
    have his muscular chest pressing down upon her aching breasts. She wanted to know
    what it would be like to have his warm mouth take hers, to lose herself in his dark gaze.
    23
    Charlotte Boyett-Compo
    Khenty stood at the side of the bed and looked