Tales From Otherworld: Collection One Read Online Free PDF Page B

piece of cheese and a glass of wine.
    She wasn’t wealthy, but the inheritance from her foster parents had left her with enough money to go abroad, to study art. And—though she never admitted it to any of her friends—she had come to Spain to look for family she had never met. Family only rumored to still exist. The journey had been dangerous and her friends thought she was crazy. Coming into a country so soon after civil war had ended, with yet another war waging not so far away in Europe—no, it didn’t really make for sanity. But so far, she’d been lucky.  
    Maria had ignored all the warnings. She’d always gone her own way. After all, nothing waited for her at home. Her foster parents were dead. She had no boyfriends nor close friends to tie her down. And perhaps the most important factor: She had no clue about what she wanted to do in life. All she knew was that she was searching for something, and she wouldn’t find it at home. So she’d packed her bags and come to Spain, and even though she didn’t really know anybody over here, she loved the city and the culture, and the old world charm.
    And that was how she’d ended up here: In a small village, on holiday from the university, drinking red wine, while she contemplated the rest of her life.  
    A moment later, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She stiffened, uncertain what had alarmed her. As she looked around, trying to figure out what it was that suddenly had her uneasy, she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There were no militarists in sight. No sounds of bombers or explosions—frequent visitors over the past couple of years. No, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
    “May I sit with you?”  
    The voice was deep, smooth and wary. But it struck a chord inside of her. Even before she looked to see to who was speaking, Maria knew she wanted to hear more. She slowly raised her gaze.
    The man standing in front of her was slightly above average height—maybe near to six feet, maybe a hair under. He was obviously European, for he had jet black wavy hair that reached his lower shoulder blades, and eyes the color of…
    Maria blinked. For a moment, she could have sworn his eyes were violet, but that was impossible. I must be tired , she thought, rubbing her hand across her face. She looked again. This time, his eyes seemed pale blue, impossibly frosty but still…
    “Please, join me.” She wasn’t in the habit of inviting strange men to sit with her, but there was something about him that resonated inside her. She realized she wanted to know his name.  
    As he sat, she realized how pale he was against the black suit. He looked almost albino, with creamy skin that would be the envy of every woman around. As she curled a tendril of hair around her finger, she realized that her heart was beating faster and thoughts she tended to keep under lock and key were rising, along with a heat between her thighs.
    “What might be your name?” Again, the deep, smooth voice glided over the words, sending a ripple of hunger through her body. She couldn’t place the accent, but it was lilting and sensuous.
    She ducked her head. “Maria D’Artigo. I’m from the United States.”
    “Hello, Maria D’Artigo,” the man said, a smile playing over his lips. “My name is Sephreh ob Tanu. Can I buy you another glass of wine?” And then, he leaned forward, his hand gently brushing hers, and in that single moment, she fell, hard into a dangerous stream of thought.
    “My life has just changed forever,” she thought. A door had just opened, and no matter where it led, she was going to follow. With a winsome grin, she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulders, and walked out of her past, into her future.