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An Excerpt From: CURSED BY MOONLIGHT
Copyright © MELISSA LOPEZ, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
Caasi
drained the last of the wine from the goblet with a sigh. The drink had
been sweet and refreshing. Just what she needed to soothe her frayed
nerves. The night crawled by with little hint of ending.
The
clan of Glanworth was a rowdy tribe.
But
something else unnerved her. Something she dared not explore. Setting the
empty container down, she moved to a quieter corner for a moment’s rest.
She didn’t get far before the old man who’d earlier spent much time staring
stopped her progress. He clasped her arm. “I wish to speak to ya.”
Assuming
she’d been taken for a woman who’d allow a tumble for treasure, she glared
fiercely. How often had she been taken for a whore? The old fool. “I’m no
whore.” She silently urged the man to release his hold. If he didn’t, her
ever-on-guard brother would start a fight.
The
wiry hand dropped away. “Nay, girl, we’ve got plenty of willing wenches.”
He reached up and smoothed down the scraggly beard that covered his face
and trailed down his chest. Suspiciously, he looked around the hall before
he lowered his tone. “I’ve need of a witch.”
A
breath rushed through her nose. Rarely were she or
her people confronted so boldly without intent of malice. And then, normally
someone wound up dead. People were of a superstitious nature, and when they
didn’t understand another’s way of living, they turned ugly.
“'Tis what ya be, ain’t it?” His light eyes narrowed. “A witch?”
With
pride, she lifted her chin. “Some have called me such.” To her people, she
was the granddaughter to a great wise woman, still a fledging, learning the
craft of magic. Only at her grandmother’s passing would she take her
rightful place as a wise one. Only to outsiders was she known as a witch.
“Good.”
The man’s smile showed missing teeth. “I’m called Godric.”
“I’m
named Caasi. You wish me to heal someone? Tell
your future?”
“There
be nothing but my death left for me.” He laughed with a shake of his head.
“Even I can see I’m an old man.”
A
smile tugged her lips. She could see Godric meant
her no harm. His crinkly eyes and tone set her at ease. He reminded her of her
uncle. “What do you wish then?”
“After
you meet my lord, we’ll talk.” Falling in step behind the man, she glanced
back to catch her brother’s familiar gaze.
As
expected, keeping to the shadows, Nassar
followed. At Lord Glanworth’s chamber, Godric entered with barely a knock. She followed after
reassurance Nassar would be a sentinel.
The
lone man sitting in the chair stood at her entrance. Not daring to look at
any one man—let alone the lord—too long, she’d stolen only peeks at him
earlier. Now she couldn’t tear her gaze away as sweet sensations she wasn’t
accustomed to burst to life low in her belly. As her breath quickened, her
mouth went dry.
A
powerful man stood before them. He radiated strength with his broad shoulders
and height. He would tower over many of her people, probably many of his
own. She appreciated his wedge-shaped chest and brawny arms. His long brown
hair hung in a loose tail down his back. This allowed her to look her fill
at his face. The strong lines held no scars, no imperfections. But his
green eyes were most arresting.
“Godric?” His big hands rested on his hips while the
lord’s mouth tightened. “Why have you brought her here?”
Unprepared
for his direct stare, she straightened under its weight. She’d seen the
hunger in his eyes before. Instinct that had been nurtured since childhood
took control. The man had eyes that missed nothing. He had the eyes of a
wild pack animal on a hunt. Every sense she had, every piece of her body,
screamed at her to run.
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