It was supposed to be a fresh start. A completely blank slate in a place where no one knew about the tragedy that ripped her family apart six months ago. A tragedy Rowan can’t help but blame herself for.
Now the only thing she wants is to blend in. To escape the house that has become more like a prison. Her new school is her only hope. Somewhere she can pretend she’s just like everyone else.
Only Rowan doesn’t realize how unique she is. Holden is the first to recognize it, but he’s not the last.
Rowan can’t explain the draw she feels to the guys who have found their way into her life. The way something seems to spark the first moment she touches each of them. How it almost hurts to walk away from them at the end of each day.
Things are changing, from the ripple of power humming just below her skin to this new family she’s finding herself a part of. But not all of the changes are good.
Someone doesn’t like the power Rowan is stepping into or the bonds she’s forming with the guys who have gifts as rare and strong as her own. And when the truth is revealed, it has the power to burn everything in its wake…
I tilted my head back so that I could see his face. “You felt it?”
He nodded. “I knew you were hurting somehow.” There was confusion in his expression, wariness, but also, a fierce protectiveness. “They need to shield you better.”
My hands fisted in Vaughn’s T-shirt. “They do, but no one can stop words.”
“I could,” he grunted.
“But I really don’t want you to go on a murderous rampage to stop a few mean girls.”
We’re about to enter the junior studio on the opposite side of the building when Mara catches up with me.
“Excuse me!” she pants, her cheeks flaming pink. “Could I speak to Mr. Blackwell for a moment?”
The other panel members turn to look at me, to see if I’ll comply.
Sonia is particularly curious. She knew something was up the moment I told her to offer Mara the studio. The discounted rate was a fabrication, invented by me on the spot. The same with this grant. It’s all leverage to get Mara right where I want her: completely at my mercy.
“Of course,” I say quietly. “The rest of you go on without me. I’ll join you momentarily.”
I lead Mara down the hall to an empty studio several doors down. I step into the clean, deserted space. She hesitates in the doorway, afraid to be alone with me.
“Are you coming?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
Pressing her lips together, she marches into the room, closing the door behind her.
I wait for her to speak, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest, thrilling at the hectic spots of color on her cheeks.
She’s illuminated with fury, eyes blazing, cheeks flaming. Her dark hair swirls around her face, defying gravity from the pure electric tension between us. Her thin hands tremble, and she digs her nails into the thighs of her jeans.
“I know it was you,” she says, her voice low and hoarse.
I’m enjoying this so much I can hardly stand it. Her rage, her fear, and the delicious predicament I put her in, all mixed together in a potent cocktail. Her expression of shock when she saw my face, and the awful struggle as she had to discuss her work with the panel, while her brain must have been twisting and turning inside her skull . . . I’m so glad I have it all recorded. I can’t wait to watch it over again tonight.
“What was me?” I say mildly.
“You know,” she hisses. Her whole body is shaking. I’d like to hold her against me, to feel those tremors vibrating through my frame . . .
“Please explain.”
Her eyes glint with tears of fury, but she refuses to let them fall. Her lips are swollen and chapped, as if she’s been biting at them . . .
“Someone snatched me off the street. They tied me up, cut my wrists, and left me in the woods. You were there. I saw you. You stood over me, staring at me. You saw I needed help. And you walked right over me. You left me there to die.”
“What a bizarre accusation,” I say. “Do you have any proof?”
I know she doesn’t. I just want to see how she’ll respond.
“I saw you,” she hisses. “I’ll tell the cops.”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” I tuck my hands in my pockets, tilting my head as I look at her. “That would cause a lot of problems for you. You’d lose the studio, of course. The grant, too.”
“Are you threatening me?” Her voice rises, the edge of hysteria sharp as razor wire. “Why are you doing this? Why did you do this to me?”
She holds up her arm so her loose bell sleeve drops away, revealing the long, jagged scar across the wrist. The scar is still healing, raised like a welt on the skin.
“I didn’t do that,” I scoff.
Mara falters, her upraised hand dropping an inch.
Interesting—she doesn’t actually know who cut her.
“You were there,” she insists.
“So what if I was?”
She startles, shocked that I admitted it.
“Then you did this!” she shrieks.
“No,” I growl. “I didn’t.”
In one swift step, I close the space between us. Mara tries to turn and run, but I’m much too fast for her. I seize her by the arm, yanking her toward me, holding up that accusing hand and branded wrist.
I look down into her terrified face, pinning her in place with my gaze as much as my fingers locked around her wrist. “There’s no limit on predators in the world,” I hiss. “And no lack of damaged girls to attract them.”
Sophie Lark is an Amazon Bestselling author who writes intense, intelligent romance, with heroines who are strong and capable, and men who will do anything to capture their hearts. She lives with her husband, two boys, and baby girl in the Rocky Mountain West.
She has a slight obsession with hiking, bodybuilding, and live comedy shows. Her perfect day would be taking the kids to Harry Potter World, going dancing with Mr. Lark, then relaxing with a good book and a monster bag of salt and vinegar chips.
Child TV star turned adult wallflower Naomi LeClaire has vowed never to return to the spotlight.
But when she’s stuck in a storm with Donovan Foster, the hot, charming, wild-life rescuing internet sensation, and she finally gives in and kisses him…and a few articles of clothing end up on the floor…suddenly her simple, quiet life is tossed upside down.
Especially after the paparazzi catches a heat-of-the-moment kiss. Now everyone assumes she’s his girlfriend and, when she realizes that’s the best way to keep Donovan out of trouble, Naomi agrees to play along. Even though it puts her center stage with her private life in very public view. Again. They’re a whirlwind of opposites-attract chemistry the fans love, but they’ll surely blow over faster than a Gulf Coast hurricane. As long as they can keep straight what’s real and what’s just a once-in-a-lifetime fantasy.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Erin Nicholas has been writing romances almost as long as she’s been reading them. To date, she’s written over thirty sexy, contemporary novels that have been described as “toe-curling,” “enchanting,” “steamy,” and “fun.” She adores reluctant heroes, imperfect heroines, and happily ever afters.
Erin lives in the Midwest, where she enjoys spending time with her husband (who only wants to read the sex scenes in her books), her kids (who will never read the sex scenes in her books), and her family and friends (who claim to be “shocked” by the sex scenes in her books).
