Free Chasing Serenity (Seeking Serenity) by Eden Butler Page A

waves his hands and stiffens his back acting like an over exaggerated idiot. “I’m slighted by your wicked insults. Tell me, does your mum know you speak with that sort of slaggish tongue?”
    I freeze. Behind Declan Sayo’s eyes widen and I hear Mollie and Layla’s low gasps. His expression is expectant and a wide grin stretches his mouth. My eyes close and air fills my lungs, chasing back the knot that has formed in my throat.
    “No, she doesn’t,” I say. “She doesn’t know anything, seeing as how she’s been dead for five months.”
    Immediately his expression changes. He no longer smiles, he has, in fact, erased all emotion from his face save shock, perhaps embarrassment. “I—“ he begins, then takes a step toward me, but I turn away from him and stand next to Sayo.
    “I’ll sort through the books in the basement.” She nods and I don’t let her touch me when she reaches for my hand. The last thing I see as I leave the room is Declan’s softened, remorseful eyes.

Five
    Why anyone would stack a heavy box full of books on the top shelf, is beyond me. I narrow my eyes at the ladder leaning against the bookshelves. It is suspect, to say the least. There are rusted bolts securing the rungs to the frame and the foot grips are worn and frayed. I could call Sayo and have her send down the jackass to help me out, but that would require being in the same room with him and I’m not altogether eager to be anywhere near him.
    The rational part of my brain tells me I shouldn’t be angry. How was he supposed to know about my mom? He doesn’t know anything about me and he was just mouthing off like he always does. Still, his comment was unsettling. I don’t mind the jibe about my filthy mouth. I have heard myself speak, after all. But being reminded of my mom, when I’ve tried so hard to never speak about her to anyone, especially with someone like Declan, has my heart pounding, a panic attack threatening in my chest. And, it hurts. Thinking about her, remembering her makes a million pinpricks of pain scatter in my body. I miss her. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her.
    Determined to get on with it, I grab the ladder and move it in front of me. I say a quick prayer that I don’t end up with a broken neck and shimmy up the rungs. Everything is fine, sturdy even, until I get to the top and reach for the box. I’m just not tall enough.  Even with the stretch of my fingers, I barely manage to scratch the bottom. A quick glance behind me has me squeezing my eyes shut. That’s a long way down.  I stretch again and this time I raise up on the balls of my feet and am able to reach the cardboard cutout on the box that serves as a handle. I grip it, but the ladder shakes and then, because clearly the gods hate me, my ring gets stuck inside the box. I’m going down.
    “Shit! Not good. Not good!”
    The floor inches nearer and I squeeze my eyes shut, body tensed for a crash I know will hurt like hell, but then a pair of tennis shoes squeak on the marble floor and a large arm wraps around my waist. The ladder smashes to the ground and I am pulled aside as a dozen or more hardcover books fall around me.
    A solid chest fits against my shoulders and a heavy, tattooed arm wrenches around my waist, gripping me tight. I try not to think about how heated his skin feels or how I like the way his breath smells as he pants against my neck, moving my hair with each exhalation.
    Wait. Did I just think about liking anything at all about Declan Fraser?
    “Alright then?” he asks and I can only manage a quick nod in response. His arm is still wrapped around me and I see an intricate Celtic knot weaving around the name “Moira” in elegant script beneath the thin black hair of his arm.  
    “Um. Thanks,” I say and scramble to my feet. I don’t speak further, instead, I make quick work picking up the fallen books. He’s at my side on his haunches, moving the broken ladder. “I’m sure Sayo would rather you help