Free The Eye of the Wolf by Sadie Vanderveen Page B

from where he laid, sprawled on his back on the uneven ground of the
Hall of Records. His blond hair was filled with dust; there was dirt smeared
rather charmingly down his cheek. His khaki pants were streaked with dust,
dirt, and anything else he might have found in there. There was a rip in one of
the knees of his pants. His white button-down shirt was no longer white, but a
dingy off-white that screamed for some Tide to remove the damage he had done.
His eyes were closed, one hand rested on his chest, dirt beneath the
fingernails, while the other sat under an upended box that had spilled books
all over the floor of the back corner. Books and scrolls littered the floor.
Some were opened but upside down, others had landed on their spines and tipped
over. It looked like a whirlwind had raced down the bookcase in that corner and
thrown the entire inventory on the floor and on him.
    Mikayla
swallowed her giggle and knelt down. Her first instinct was to poke him to see
if he was still alive. Instead, she leaned over and pressed two fingers to his
neck to check his pulse. His hand was fast and caught her wrist just as she
pulled away.
    He
lazily opened his eyes and peered up at her. His eyes were veiled underneath
his long dark lashes, lashes most models would have murdered him for. “Worried
about me, luv?” His British accent washed over her in like a calm ocean wave
warming her, melting her. He pressed a quick kiss to her fingertips before she
could jerk her hand back.
    She
stood up and brushed off her jeans. She refused to look at him, afraid her eyes
would linger on his deadly lips. She pushed her feelings back and regained her
composure. She was too practical of a person to fall for that foolish gesture.
Romance belonged in storybooks. Besides, she had work to do, but, oh, did he
have an effect on her.
    Mikayla pushed that thought and
that warmth he had created out of her mind. “Of course not. I just wanted to
make sure I didn’t need to call an ambulance, or if necessary, the coroner. I
can’t have a dead body stinking up the place. I have to work here.” She
straightened and looked down her nose at him in her best school-teacher
imitation. She arched an eyebrow. “Luv.” She said it matter-factly with just a
hint of snide sarcasm that made him grin.
    He
attempted to sit up and only groaned. Every muscle in his body hurt. He covered
his eyes with his hand and groaned again when she nudged him with her foot.
“Let me die in peace, Woman! Can’t you just let me die in peace.”
    Mikayla
smirked. “Well, it serves you right.” She knelt down again and began lovingly
picking up the books he had so carelessly allowed to land on the floor. “What
were you doing in here, anyway?” She leaned over him to pick up more books. “It
is before eight o’clock.” She checked her watch. “In fact, it is only
seven-thirty. You are always ten to fifteen minutes late. What’s wrong with
you?”
    Will
focused on her face as she leaned over him and her long hair trailed along his
face and neck. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. He grinned.
She had the cutest freckles darting across her nose and cheeks. He hadn’t
noticed them before. He had never liked freckles on women before, but on her,
they were charming and added only to the character that he already found
entirely too endearing for his own good. He ran a finger down her nose before
she could jerk back in protest.
    Mikayla
jumped back at the intimate gesture. Her eyes were wild and wide; fear,
frustration, annoyance, and perhaps a hint of mirth danced in her eyes. She
lost her balance from her precarious perch on her feet and landed with a thump
on her hip. She frowned and rubbed it with the hand that wasn’t full of ancient
texts. She said nothing, but again she refused to meet his eyes.
    Will
sat up. He began to pick up books. “I was looking for a book that I thought
might be of help to you.” He looked around him at all of the books on the