His stomach growled, and he turned the corner to find Skyla, dressed in fresh clothes—the same short skirt, tight shirt, and kickass goth boots included—standing at the stove flipping bacon and scrambling eggs.
His vision blurred and the modern appliances faded into the background. Weathered stone, a baking hearth, and an old scarred table filled the space in front of him. And at the counter, the same female, stirring something in a ceramic bowl. Only this time she was barefoot, wearing a slip of a dress made of gauzy white and tied at her narrow waist with a woven gold braid.
The room spun. He reached out and gripped the hallway wall to steady himself.
She looked up. Her hand stopped moving. The bowl sat cradled in the nook of her other arm. A streak of flour ran across her right cheek.
A warm smile spread across her face. One filled with heat and mischief and knowledge. “Stop looking at me like that. Thou knows that is playing with fire.”
She went back to stirring. Looked back down at her work with a victorious grin. Turned to reach for something behind her.
But Orpheus felt like he’d just been sucker punched in the gut.
The air left his lungs on a gasp. The room spun again, flipped his stomach end over end. He reached for the wall with his other hand, felt himself falling. Saw shadows barreling in from all sides. And was powerless to keep from fainting like a giant pussy.
“Daemon? Shit, can you hear me?” The voice was muffled. Distant. Something hard pressed down on his chest. “Come on, already. Wake up!”
A crack echoed around him. His eyes flew open.
“That’s it. Criminy, you’re worse off than I thought. Yeah, that’s right, keep looking at me.”
He couldn’t do anything else. He stared up into amethyst eyes that sparkled like the Aegis Mountains in the early morning sunshine. And felt that rush of familiarity all over again.
“There you go. See? Not so bad after all.” Her voice wasn’t so muffled anymore. “Let’s get you up.”
He didn’t fight her when she pulled on his shoulders, maneuvering him around to lean against the wall, his legs kicked out in front of him. While his head continued to spin like a top, she went back into the kitchen, flipped off the stove, reached for bandages and other supplies, came back and knelt next to him.
Honeysuckle wafted in the air around him as she grasped the hem of his shirt and lifted it, exposing his abs and chest. The hem of her skirt rode dangerously high on her thighs, but that vision of her in that old-time kitchen wouldn’t leave his head. That and the knowing smile she’d sent him that spoke of familiarity on a personal level. An intimate level.
Her brow wrinkled as she inspected his skin. “This is…already scabbed over. I know daemons heal quickly but…well, you are not at all what I expected.”
Neither was she. Whatever the hell she was doing to him, though, he was about to put a stop to it.
He grasped her wrist, “I want…answers.”
She looked down where he held her then focused on his eyes. She pulled her hand free with a quick snap of her wrist, a motion that told him she was stronger than she appeared, then rose to her feet. “You need food. We’ll talk after you eat.”
Screw that.
He’d never fainted in his life. Couldn’t believe he’d done so now, especially in front of her. Whatever she was—witch, sorceress, immortal—she was playing some kind of mind fuck on him. Getting him to see and feel things that weren’t real. His mother had been Medean. He’d studied her craft, knew how to cast spells himself when the time was right, and was well aware the power the dark arts could harness. He wasn’t about to be manipulated by this female in any way.
He pushed to his feet. Before she reached the end of the hall he flashed in front of her, bringing her to a dead stop.
Surprise lit her eyes. Confusion followed quickly on its tail. Argonauts could only flash in Argolea. In the human realm they were limited to the same laws of nature as humans. Except him.
She dropped her supplies, took a step back. “What…? How did you do that?”
“I’m full of surprises.” He took a menacing step toward her.
She moved back more. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m tired of playing games.” He advanced until her back hit the wall. He knew his eyes were glowing green, illuminating the dark hallway around them. His daemon hovered right beneath his control, but he didn’t force it back like he normally would. Right now he wanted its strength. And the fear it instilled. “I want answers, and I want them now.”
He pressed a hand against the wall and leaned in close. Until the heat from her skin slid over his and the beat of her heart was all he could hear. “I want to know who the hell you really are.”
Coming April 2012
About the Author
A former junior high science teacher, Elisabeth Naughton traded in her red pen and test-tube set for a laptop and research books. She now writes sexy romantic adventure and paranormal novels full time from her home in western Oregon, where she lives with her husband and three children. Her work has been nominated for numerous awards, including the prestigious RITA Awards of Romance Writers of America, the Australian Romance Reader Awards, the Golden Leaf, and the Golden Heart. When not writing, Elisabeth can be found running, hanging out at the ball park, or dreaming up new and exciting adventures. Visit her at www.elisabethnaughton.com to learn more about her and her books.
Table of Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Eternal Guardians Lexicon
Excerpt from Enraptured
About the Author
Back Cover
Elisabeth Naughton, Tempted
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