Free The Amber Stone by Dara Girard

toweled himself dry. Mist came up to greet him, meowing, her green eyes bright with intelligence.
    “It wasn’t what it looked like,” he muttered.
    Mist sat on her hind legs looking smug.
    “All right, it was, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
    The cat continued to look smug and all-knowing.
    He turned away, frustration gnawing at him. Why would the woman give him no peace? Even though sleep eluded him most nights, when he did sleep, she’d followed him into his dreams. She reached out to him, her bright light making the shadows around him recoil, but he did his best to stay out of reach.
    “Why won’t you leave me alone?” he remembered telling her in one dream as they stood among a sea of lavender, the sky overhead dark with rainy clouds.
    “Do you really want that?” she had asked him.
    “I don’t want you here.” He gripped his hands into fists and the clouds darkened above them. “I could hurt and destroy you if I wanted to.”
    “Perhaps,” she said as if the thought didn’t bother her and then she smiled. It was the smile that enraged him. He grabbed her arm and held her until he’d enveloped her into his darkness, a fierce wind wiping away the lavender field and leaving only cracked, barren soil. And as all the light around her faded, he looked at her face and expected to see fear or anger, but instead he saw sadness before all her light was gone.
    Sean reached down and stroked Mist. Teresa was no match for him. No woman was. He would not be any woman’s conquest again. And he’d never let anyone shatter his heart again. He liked living alone, being ignored. He didn’t know why his honesty had brought her to tears, but it was the price he had to pay for his solitude.
     

     

Chapter Nine

     
    Teresa had become aware of Second Chances used bookstore by accident. Her car had broken down and she had wandered into the bookstore while she waited for the tow truck to come. She knew it was just the place she needed to forget about him. She would bury herself in a stack of books and she’d never think about him again.
    She was looking through the shelves when Pernelle, the new bookstore assistant, approached her. She was new to the area and had come to town several months ago.
    “I haven’t seen you here in a while,” Pernelle said.
    Pernelle was a remarkable-looking woman with a glowing quality not even a Hollywood studio could imitate. She wore stylish clothes that hinted of New York elegance, her hair was luminous and cascaded like a black waterfall down her back; her eyes were a dark purplish brown. She reminded Teresa of her cousin Olivia, except Olivia never glowed unless she was given something expensive. Teresa was shocked when the stunning woman had made it her mission to befriend her, but always enjoyed discussing books and Pernelle had told her about JS Braden.
    “I’ve been busy,” Teresa said, wanting to be polite, although she wanted to be left alone too.
    “I’ve got another book you’re going to adore. A classic romance, where the heroine suffers tremendously but triumphs in the end, and another JS Braden book you’re going to stay up all night reading.”
    Teresa smiled. “You need to have a long talk with my sister Michelle. She thinks my book reading habits are a problem.”
    Pernelle dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. “She just doesn’t understand.” She leaned on the bookshelf, her eyes sparkling. “So have you got any news?”
    “No,” Teresa replied, confused. She never had any news to share. Her life was as exciting as mayonnaise.
    Pernelle rested her chin in her hands. “What I mean to say is have you met him yet? The mysterious stranger,” she added when Teresa continued to look blank.
    Teresa lifted a book and gazed at the cover, trying to cool her temper. The last person she wanted to talk about was Sean Casey. “As a matter of fact I have,” she said in a low voice, hoping her disinterest would stop the conversation.
    Pernelle rubbed