I hadn’t realized there was a terrace up there. It was floored in redwood planks and tricked out with planter boxes and comfortable upholstered couches. The San Francisco skyline stretched out on all sides, the lights soft through a thin veil of fog.
Jackson was standing at the far end of the deck, surrounded by tiny lights. I didn’t realize it at first, but as I got closer, I realized there were pyrokinetic light orbs, tiny flares of energy fueled by his powers. They shifted as I came close to him, swirling to surround us both.
“Wow,” I said, and he smiled.
“I made dinner. Come on.”
We ate in the heart of the San Francisco skyline, fish and asparagus and potatoes and wine. He asked me about the speakeasy, how I planned to go forward. We talked about his freelance jobs and how much he would have to travel. He’d bought cheesecake from a fancy bakery. Caramel topping. When I’d taken the last bite, Jackson pulled a small wrapped package out of his pocket and handed it to me. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just said, “Open it.”
The paper was dark red and thick, satisfying to tear. The cardboard box beneath it was the kind my mother had kept jewelry in. White cardboard embossed with a subtle texture. When I opened it, I found a freshly cut key on a silver keychain. Attached to the ring was a pretty red stone, the same color, I noticed, as the dress I’d worn that first night I’d played. I rubbed it with my thumb.
“I know you want to keep your apartment,” Jackson said, and I looked up. He did? “I know you need your own space. But I want this to be your space too.”
I stared at the key, rolling the stone around in my fingers.
“No one’s ever asked me to move in with him before,” I said.
“I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that.”
I gripped the keychain in my fist, stood and walked to the railing surrounding the deck. The fog was growing thicker, obscuring some of the farthest buildings. Jackson followed, standing a few feet away from me and leaning on the rail.
“You’re making me nervous over there,” he said.
I turned to him, smiling. “I’m just wondering if there’s a hardware store around here that can make a copy of this.” I pulled the old-fashioned key to my apartment out of my pocket. “I mean, if I’m going to have the key to your place, you should have the key to mine. Unless you’d rather just pick the lock?”
Jackson closed the distance between us and caged me with his arms. His dark hair fell forward as he leaned down, and the heat of him was like a windbreaker against the fog.
“I’d rather have your key,” he said. “If you want to give it to me.”
I tilted my head to meet his eyes. “It’s going to be hard. I can stop the grounding, but not while I’m asleep. Are you sure you want this?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Are you sure you want to be with a man when you have to concentrate every time you touch him?”
I laced my hand through his, focusing to keep the transfer at bay. It was getting easier. I didn’t know if it would ever be easy. “Some things are worth the struggle.”
“So that’s a yes, then.”
“Yes. That’s a yes.”
He leaned closer, and the anticipation of the kiss to come welled up in me, a hectic joy. I wanted to lose myself in this moment, but I didn’t want to see those beautiful lights go dim. They swirled around us, congregating into a bright cloud, and then winked out.
“I’ll make them again,” he said, and found my lips in the sudden dark.
* * * * *
About the Author
A.J. Larrieu grew up in small-town Louisiana, where she spent her summers working in her family’s bakery, exploring the swamps around her home and reading science-fiction and fantasy novels under the covers. At one point there really was an alligator in her backyard, but it was a small one. She attended Louisiana State University, where she majored in biochemistry and wrote bad poetry on the side.
Despite pursuing a PhD in biology, she couldn’t kick the writing habit, and by the time she graduated, she had an addiction to writing sexy urban fantasy and paranormal romance. The first book in her Shadowminds series, Twisted Miracles, was a finalist in RWA’s Golden Heart competition.
A.J. lives in San Francisco with her family, where she works as a biochemist by day and writes sexy supernatural stories by night. She loves to chat with fellow book lovers, so please drop her a line at [email protected], follow her on Twitter at @ajlarrieu, or visit her at www.ajlarrieu.com.
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ISBN-13: 9781426899478
Broken Shadows
Copyright © 2015 by A.J. Larrieu
Edited by Deborah Nemeth
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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