The Soother Read Free Page B

never stand a chance. If Carrine allowed it, they’d all be falling at her feet.
    Knowing full well the beautiful and wise witch suspected something, Calliope hurried into the house and grabbed her boots before shutting the door and locking it behind her.
    Plopping down on the steps, she yanked the boots up over her jeans and cinched them tight. Through hooded eyes she watched as Carrine tapped her foot. If she didn’t get her out of here fast, she’d be busted with a capital B. How could Calliope explain what she didn’t yet understand?
    • • •
    Krystoff fought through the fog and clawed his way back to consciousness. The trek from the abyss that skirted the edge of death had not been an easy one, but the angelic voice crooning to him in chanted whispers gave him a reason to slay his demons and open his eyes.
    He pushed to his elbows and lifted his head off the pillow. A sharp stab to his gut and spinning vision forced him back down. How quickly he’d forgotten the severity of his wounds. Considering what Eron had done to him, Krystoff was fortunate to be alive. Part of him had wished for death. The part that wanted to extract vengeance on his mother and Scout. He couldn’t ask for a better disguise than death.
    Dust motes fluttered above his eyes, dancing through the trail of sunshine streaming in through the bedroom window. They reminded him of woodland fairies sprinkling magick throughout the forest. Or, they could be spies. One never knew.
    The crackle of flames drew his gaze left. A bundle of dried wildflowers hung above the stone mantel, which held various forms of star-themed knickknacks. None held his attention more than the orange and blue flame serpents, hissing and snapping at one another. Why anyone needed to burn a fire in the middle of summer was beyond him. If his energy weren’t so tapped, he’d chuck the pitcher of water sitting on the bedside table at the fireplace and douse the blasted inferno.
    Determined to get vertical, he clenched his jaw and swung his feet to the floor. His bones nearly splintered with the impact. Krystoff panted through the pain.
Need to go slow.
The familiar scents of yarrow and burdock wafted through the air. He breathed deeply and smiled. So his angel wasn’t an angel after all. He glanced down at his torso. The jagged wound was almost sealed. The witch knew her stuff. His mouth watered as his groin tightened, but he swallowed past the gnawing hunger and shoved it to the bottom of his to-do list.
    Chances were, she had just the ingredients he would need to whip up a healing spell that would have him good-to-go in ten seconds flat. His cravings would have to wait to be sated. His gaze drifted to the chair next to the bed. Reaching out, Krystoff skimmed his finger over the chipped paint and imagined her sitting there while she tended his wounds, her blue eyes intense as she focused on the task at hand. The seat held two floral pillows — both in need of more stuffing and a stitch or two. Other feminine touches were added here and there throughout the bedroom. Frayed throw blankets, cracked crystal vases and scuffed purple combat boots. Interesting mix.
    Krystoff shoved off the bed, wincing as his muscles stretched and twisted. He shuffled out of the small room and into the kitchen, pulling all the curtains shut on his way. Though the sun wouldn’t kill him, the heated light made his skin itch. Just another half-breed perk.
    He called to the shadows swimming in his blood and wrapped them around his nude body. The cool blanket had him sighing in bliss. How quickly he’d changed sides and actually welcomed the shadows he had always detested. A metal pot with freshly cut flowers adorned a white kitchen table surrounded by mismatched chairs. Leaning against one of them, he sucked in the heavy air and tried to catch his breath. Eyes closed, he briefly gave in to the fatigue threatening to suck him back under. When the room spun, he opened his eyes and pulled his vision