Zurlo, Michele - Torment [Daughters of Circe 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read Free

fashion the crude log cabin that, over the years, morphed into something truly elegant.
    Something worthy of Hope.
    The front end of the house, over which the balcony looked, contained an open-style kitchen and living room. The ceiling rose above him, vaulting gracefully to meet the second-story roof and echoing the pattern of the hand-cut hardwood floor. Cupboards covered the far wall where the majority of the kitchen appliances were located. The counters were a pale marble that added light and energy to a room that could have been dark and foreboding. Extending to the living room like the ceiling and the floor, recessed and dropped lighting completed the open plan.
    The front half of the kitchen was given over to a massive dining table that would comfortably seat at least eight, though no more than two had ever attended it. The front and side walls in both rooms were broken by large, curtainless windows. Living in such a remote area, Shade didn’t see that curtains served a purpose other than to keep out the light, which didn’t bother him.
    The back half, where he stood, was home to six rooms, three upper and three lower. The balcony led to his master suite, a second bathroom, and Hope’s room. She was gone now, nothing but a memory, but he couldn’t part with any of her things. She would need them when she found him again. He had no doubt she would find him again. Destiny had a way of working those things out, even if it took a hundred years.
    The lower floor had an extra bedroom he hoped would one day be a nursery for his offspring. It was full of junk now, but he would clean it out when the time was right. His compulsion wouldn’t countenance a room where everything was put away.
    His compulsion had been a source of irritation for Hope. It would be for any woman. Hope had grown so tired of it that she placed a charm on him. It hadn’t worked.
    When he had lived at his parents’ home, a maid had been employed for the express purpose of picking up after him. Not many people were aware of this peculiar habit of his. Now, years later, he didn’t have the heart to pick up after himself. His things were clean, just not put away. The clutter would drive any visitor away. Fortunately, he didn’t get visitors. Ever.
    Throwing a change of clothes in the passenger seat of his pickup truck, Shade headed toward his brother’s place. Soren lived in the monstrosity of a home where they grew up, having inherited it when their father passed away. Though he was older by seven minutes, Shade did not begrudge Soren the home or the responsibilities that came with it. He visited often, keeping abreast of the news and of people’s lives, but he never accepted the open invitation to move back home.
    Even if Soren hadn’t killed Hope on the sacred altar in the clearing near that house, Shade knew the small, hidden village of Lyton would never again be his home. His kin, his brethren, would never accept a witch as his mate, no matter what the Shadow Man attributed to destiny. They hadn’t accepted Hope, and they wouldn’t accept her when she was reborn.
    The drive took nearly an hour. Shade didn’t own a phone, cell or otherwise, and he knew he was taking a chance Soren might not be home. It didn’t matter too much. Friends were always around.
    Eventually, the trees parted to reveal the quaint town set into an Appalachian hillside. The town wasn’t on any maps. Overhead satellites weren’t able to locate it. Even the turnoff for the road to town was hidden. If a person didn’t know exactly where he wanted to go, he would never find his way. No stranger had ever set foot on their land, not in over two hundred years, unless he counted Hope.
    Hands rose in greeting as Shade drove through the narrow streets of the town. He found out before he had gone a quarter mile that Soren was away on business, though no one knew what that business might be. Some speculated it might be a special woman, a theory others rejected outright. If