Free Enchanting Absinthe (Sex with Strings, Book Four) by Shona Husk Page A

dreams.
    He might not be getting laid after shows while he was awake, but she was in his head every night. And in the morning he woke with a sense of loss he couldn’t explain. It was affecting his performance. Not that it mattered. One more gig, then the end would be announced.
    Then it was all over, no more Lucinda’s Lover, and he could do whatever he wanted. If only he knew what that was. After four hundred years or so, he’d done what he wanted to do. Traveled, studied, had his fifteen minutes of fame more than once. The one thing he wanted had eluded him; people wanted him because of who they thought he was. He checked his watch. He was late. He had no idea what he was going to say and no idea if she’d even speak to him when she realized it was him.
    If nothing else, he wanted his magic back. Maybe if he told himself enough times that was all he wanted he wouldn’t be disappointed if she refused to have anything to do with him. He turned the corner and saw the wall that surrounded the house he’d agreed to view. In front was a blonde-haired woman in a black suit. His step faltered. Blonde? She turned and he saw her profile. It was Claire, looking far more respectable than the last time he’d seen her.
    The aching loss immediately bloomed into happiness that had no place in his heart. He had nothing to be happy about. He had to grovel up to a Shaman just to get his magic back.
    To get her back .
     
    Claire had been outside the luxury house for ten minutes. In front of the Winters’ Real Estate sign, the family business. She checked her watch again. Five more minutes.
    When she looked up, a man in dark jeans and a black coat that looked as if it belonged on a Jane Austen movie set strode toward the building. Black sunglasses hid his eyes even though it was overcast. Her heart skipped and fell over itself in confusion. It was him. She was sure of it. She didn’t need to see his eyes to know who it was. There was something in the way he moved.
    Did she want to see him or not? Was it really Absinthe? Surely not, they were still touring. It was her imagination wanting to see him. The hollowness that had been part of her vanished. A bout of nausea took its place and swelled in her stomach. She swallowed hard and forced a smile that grew beyond cool professionalism.
    He stopped in front of her and held out his hand. “Claire Winters.”
    The sound of her name was enough to confirm it. She took his hand and the familiar calluses from years of playing violin grazed her skin. Her blood sizzled at the contact and she wanted more than a handshake. She wanted to put her arms around him and say how much she’d missed him, but one night didn’t exactly qualify as a relationship and she really had no right to make any claims on him.
    The bond between them was an awkward side effect. Had he realized their magic had joined? She drew in a breath of cold air and reminded herself it was Absinthe who’d kicked her out because she was Shaman.
    Claire forced out the frozen air that hurt her lungs. “Mr. Black.”
    Her hand mechanically released his, but her fingers tingled. Her flesh hadn’t forgotten his touch and her blood hadn’t forgotten his bite. She wanted to sink into the ecstasy again, but it wouldn’t be the same with any Vamp, only him and only because he had magic that fed on hers and amplified everything.
    “William, please.” He took of his sunglasses and carefully placed them in a pocket. His lips held no trace of a smile, and his eyes were hard polished green. This was not a reunion. This was business.
    Walking to the front door gave her a chance to quell the impulses that raced through her body. Two months was a long time for a Shaman to be alone and her body knew him, wanted him. Her magic craved his; it was already reaching out, thickening the bond with every breath. She kept her eyes in front and her teeth locked together, acutely aware of how close he was standing.
    Treat him like any other