Bay of Sighs Read Free Page A

adding protection over the more usual alarm system,” he continued. “We caused her pain, and harm, so it’s unlikely she’ll gather herself enough to come at us again tonight, if indeed she can find us. But we’ll sleep better with a layer of magick over all.”
    â€œSplit up.” With his sword sheathed, his dark hair tumbled around his hard, handsome face, Doyle nodded agreement. “Go through the place, make certain it’s clear and secured.”
    â€œShould be two bedrooms down here, four more upstairs, and another common space. It’s not big and plush like the villa, and we won’t have all that outdoor space.”
    â€œOr Apollo,” Annika put in.
    â€œYeah.” Riley smiled. “I’m going to miss that dog. But there’s room, and it’s well located. I’ll take the upstairs.”
    â€œYou just want first call on the bedrooms.”
    Riley grinned at Sasha, then frowned. “You okay, Sash? You’re pale.”
    â€œJust a headache. A regular headache,” she said when all eyes turned to her. “I don’t try to fight the visions anymore. It’s just been a very long day.”
    â€œAnd so it has.” Bran drew her close to his side, whispered something in her ear that made her smile and nod. “We’ll take upstairs as well,” he said, and with Sasha, vanished.
    â€œOh, cheat! No fair using magick!” Riley charged toward the steps and up.
    â€œThree up, so three down to clear this floor. I’d sooner bunk down here,” Doyle said with a look around, “closer to the outside access.”
    â€œYou and me down here then,” Sawyer decided—to Annika’s disappointment. “Closer to the kitchen and the food. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
    The two bedrooms stood side by side. Not as big as the ones they’d left behind on Corfu, but with nice beds and pretty views from the windows.
    â€œWorks,” Doyle stated.
    â€œWorks,” Sawyer agreed after opening another door to a bathroom with a shower.
    The door slid in and out of the wall, delighting Annika so she had to push it in, pull it out a few times before Sawyer grabbed her hand and pulled her away.
    They found another room with what Sawyer called a bar, a big television on the wall (she
loved
television), and a large table where colorful balls stood in a triangle on a green top.
    Annika stroked her hand over the top. “It isn’t grass.”
    â€œFelt,” Sawyer told her. “It’s a pool table—a game. You play?” he asked Doyle.
    â€œWhat man who’s lived a few centuries hasn’t played pool?”
    â€œI’ve only lived a few decades, but I’ve played my share. We’ll have to have a game.”
    There was a powder room—though no one powdered anything in them that Annika had seen—and then the kitchen and eating area. She knew immediately Sawyer was pleased.
    He wandered through it. A tall, lean body that moved, she thought, as if never hurried. Her fingers wanted to brush through all the dark gold hair the sun had streaked, shaggy and windblown from the traveling. And eyes, gray like the sea in the first silver light of dawn, that made her want to sigh.
    â€œThe Italians understand cooking—and eating. This is excellent.”
    She knew something about cooking now, had even learned to make a few dishes, so she recognized the big stove with its many burners, and the ovens for baking and roasting. A center island held its own sink, which charmed her, and another sink—wider—stood under a window.
    Sawyer opened the box that kept things cold—the refrigerator, she remembered. “Already stocked. Riley doesn’t miss a trick. Beer?”
    â€œOh, absolutely,” Doyle said.
    â€œAnni?”
    â€œI don’t like the beer very much. Is there something else?”
    â€œGot your soft drinks, some fruit juice. And wait.”