My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set

by Michelle M. Pillow

  He gave her a warm smile. “I believe you do.”

  He turned and gave Castor a wave, receiving one in return. “Make good choices,” he called over his shoulder as he sailed out of the room.

  Leia swung around to gaze at Cas, who stared right back. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for that.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the least I could do.”

  She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she clasped them in front of her. Why was he being distant?

  She waved at the door. “I’ll get back to work.”

  He moved around his desk, sat, and turned his attention to his computer, effectively dismissing her. “When should I expect your resignation?”

  She paused at the doorway. She couldn’t turn to face him, certain he’d see the devastation written on her face. He truly didn’t want her. Granted, she shouldn’t be surprised since they’d never discussed anything beyond a temporary attraction. However, after what he’d said in the glen before Kaios had appeared…apparently she still had the capacity to hope in vain.

  “I’ll call Legendary Consultants today and have my official letter to you before I leave.”

  She closed the door behind her with a click. On unsteady legs, she crossed the office to her desk. She sat, her gaze on her black computer screen, not really seeing it, too preoccupied trying to keep her tears at bay.

  Who knew when she finally got her wish to return to her spring granted, she’d be reluctant to go?

  After several minutes, when she felt more in control, she picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. “Hello, Delilah…”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Are you a total idiot? Or just blind as the Graeae when Perseus stole their eye?”

  Castor checked his watch, noting the late hour. How had she known he was still at work? “Hello, Delilah.”

  “Leia is perfect for you. What the hell are you doing replacing her?”

  “Poseidon is giving her spring back.”

  “I heard.”

  “She’s going home.”

  “Does she want to?”

  He frowned. “Of course, she wants to.”

  “She said that?”

  He ran his hand through his hair and leaned back, his chair creaking a protest. “I heard her talking to Calliadne after the fight. They didn’t know I was there, and she said she wasn’t worthy of me. Because she thinks she’s a failed nymph.”

  “So you arranged to have that failure fixed…” Delilah guessed.

  “Yes. And she chose the spring. I have to let her go.”

  “Why?”

  Delilah wasn’t usually this dense. “She’s been lost without her spring for over a millennium.”

  “Until recently, I would’ve agreed with you.”

  He scowled, getting tired of the riddles. “What does that mean?

  “It means she’s perfect for you.”

  “You said that already, and I agree. She’s been a terrific Executive Assistant.”

  “I’m not talking about the job.”

  Hope, that deceptive emotion, sprang to life inside him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve never seen her happier than she has been this last year working for you. Especially right after Tala and Marrok’s mating.”

  “But Kaios…”

  “Don’t get me wrong. He had her worried, but she was also more alive than she has been in…”

  “In?”

  “At least as long as I’ve known her, which includes before she lost her spring.”

  Castor thought back over the last year. Delilah was right. Leia had changed. When she’d first started with him, she’d been serious and distrustful of him. Over the course of the year, the real Leia had emerged—smart, still mouthy, and strong. Lately, she’d let him in more and more. Right up until today.

  He gripped the phone. “Did she tell you why she’s been so happy?”

  “I think that’s something you should discuss with Leia herself.”

  Wrapped up in PJs and a fleece robe, her hair still wet from a long soak in the tub, Leia plunked down on her sofa and put her feet up on her coffee table. With a little salute, she lifted a glass of red wine, a Christmas gift from Cas she had just opened and gave a silent tribute to Dionysus. She had to hand it to the pleasure god—wine was good stuff. The full-bodied liquid slid over her tongue and she savored the chocolate and cherry aftertaste.

  Closing her eyes, she lay her head back against the comfy cushion of her overstuffed chair and tried to relax away her god awful day. Pun intended.

  A loud knock at her door startled her, and she jerked her hand, sloshing a few drops of her wine on her cream-colored cushion. “Damn. Damn. Damn.”

  She hopped up and ran to the kitchen, where she wet a rag, then back to the couch where she dabbed at the stain.

  Whoever was at the door knocked again. Only louder. She glared at the door and wished whoever it was to the devil. “Just a second.”

  “It’s me.”

  She paused mid-dab at the deep, unmistakable rumble of Castor’s voice. What was he doing here? More importantly, she couldn’t take another round with him tonight. She was too emotionally drained.

  She slowly went back to working at the stain. “What do you need?” she called.

  “Let me in please.”

  She ground her teeth. Rag clenched in her fist, she hopped up and crossed to the door, which she unlocked and opened a crack. By Olympus, he looked good. Edible. She loved it when he rolled back his sleeves. “I’m not in the best mood right now. Can it wait?”

  “No.”

  Stupid question anyway.

  “Does it have anything to do with my replacement? I talked to Delilah today, and she’ll be at the office tomorrow to get things rolling.”

  “I’m not here to talk about your damn job.”

  She opened the door wider and put her hands on her hips. “There’s no need to swear at me.”

  Rather than answer, Cas stepped inside, invading her spacing and forcing her to back up. He kicked the door closed and yanked her into his arms. His lips covered hers in a kiss that blasted her senses and chased her questions to the back of her mind.

  When he encountered no resistance, Cas framed her face with his hands and the kiss gentled—both reverent and drugging at the same time. Her body came alive beneath his scorching touch. Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled back. His blue eyes were almost navy, eyes she could drown in.

  “I can’t let you go.” The words seemed ripped from a dark place within him.

  Hope surged, but experience taught her not to trust it. She gazed at him warily. “Why?”

  He swallowed. “Because I’m in love with you. And I think you’re in love with me.”

  His words stole the breath from her lungs as happiness and relief poured through her like a tidal wave.

  He gave her a little shake. “Say something.”

  She gave him a broad grin. “Something.”

  “Not what I was going for.” While his lips twitched at her teasing, a worry lingered in his gaze she’d never seen before. She didn’t like it.

  She slipped her arms up through his and around his neck and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss. “I love you, too.”

  The shadow in her heart must’ve reflected in her expression, because he didn’t celebrate. “But?”

  She swallowed. “I thought you’d only ever love your wife.” There. She’d said it.

  “Ah.” He smoothed the hair back from her face and ran a tender finger down her cheek. “I will always love Hilaeira.”

  Leia wouldn’t ask him not to, so long as he found a place in his heart for her too.

  “But I’ve never felt for anyone what I do for you. It borders on crazy. I’ve been waiting thousands of years to find a love like this.”

  Leia’s heart swelled. She went up on tiptoe to place a light kiss on his lips, inhaling his now- familiar scent. “So have I,” she whispered.

  “Thank the gods.�
�� His arms tightened around her almost painfully, but she didn’t protest. He leveled a strangely intense look on her. “Be my wife?”

  She blinked, both her emotions and her mind still catching up, not expecting either a declaration of love or a proposal, let alone in the same night.

  Before she could answer, he rushed into speech. “Don’t say no. We can relocate. I’ve already started searching for property close to your spring.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll trade with a nymph closer to here. A spring in Greece is a real find these days, so it shouldn’t be difficult.”

  The tense muscles of his shoulders relaxed slightly. He searched her gaze. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Wherever you are is home for me.”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  Instead of tossing off a joke, she kissed him. “You won my love with every good part of you.”

  “It doesn’t hurt that I’m pretty hot either.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide her grin. “Demigods.”

  He swung her off her feet, into his arms, and strode toward her bedroom. She wrapped her arms around her neck, snuggling against him in a delicious way. “How about we take a bath,” she whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

  Cas stopped walking. His body quickened at her husky suggestion. He knew exactly what that offer meant to her. “Are you sure?”

  She nibbled at his ear. “I want to find out what all the hype is about. With you. I’ve been waiting to share this with the man I love.”

  Cas swallowed, both humbled and incredibly turned on. With a grin, he changed directions. “Your request is my command.”

  Epilogue

  Delilah sat behind her large and elaborately carved mahogany desk—a gift from a grateful phoenix—and kicked off her sky-high stilettos, scrunching her toes into the deep-pile carpet to relieve her cramping feet. The shoes worked for the image she insisted on projecting to the world, but boy did they kill.

  She reached for the mail her assistant had left neatly stacked in its tray. She opened the first envelope and smiled when she discovered a wedding invitation from Leia and Castor. About time, too. With a flick, she flipped over the envelope, scrunching her nose at the “and Guest” beside her name. Not that she’d be attending the wedding. She had a strict no weddings, matings, funerals, or ceremonies in general rule. Over the years, she’d found they weren’t particularly fun.

  She hadn’t attended Tala and Marrok’s mating ceremony either, despite the fact she’d arranged that particular union—a brilliant move on her part, if she said so herself. Now the couple had to figure things out for themselves, though they weren’t impressing her thus far. Why were relationships so damn hard? She’d practically handed the werewolf pair the perfect situation on a silver platter. They’d better not screw it up. She’d give them six months before taking matters into her own hands. Couldn’t be having dissatisfied customers, now could she?

  A soft knock at her door had her putting away the wedding invitation. “Come in,” she called.

  Her assistant, Naiobe, entered, with her the red-headed witch Kaios had used to remove Castor’s, Leia’s, and all the nymphs’ powers.

  Delilah waited until the woman sat in the chair across the desk before she learned forward, folding her hands on the desk. “I understand your name is Rowan MacAuliffe.”

  Rowan glanced around the room with wary eyes, but nodded.

  “I’ve heard your side of the situation with Kaios.”

  Stunning grey eyes focused on her. “And?”

  “And I think I can help you. If you’d like.”

  The End

  * * *

  The series continues with

  The Worse for Were

  * * *

  To keep up on Abigail’s books, join the mailing list HERE!

  About Abigail Owen

  Do you love plots that move hot and fast, feisty heroines with sass, alpha heroes with heart, a dash of snark, and oodles of sexy shifters? Welcome! You’ve found a friend here.

  Abigail Owen is a multi-award-winning paranormal romance author. Other titles include wife, mother, Star Wars geek, ex-competitive skydiver, spreadsheet lover, Dr. Seuss quoter, eMBA, organizational guru, Texan, Aggie, and chocaholic.

  Abigail currently resides in Austin, Texas, with her own personal hero (who she totally married!) and their kids, who are growing up way too fast. She also writes award-winning contemporary romance as Kadie Scott.

  www.abigailowen.com

  Lure of Obsession by Lisa Kessler

  Muse Chronicles Book One

  Lisa Kessler

  This one is for my stepmom, Vivian, who has spent most of her life as a teacher inspiring the next generation to reach for their dreams.

  Thanks for always loving me and my kids like your own.

  Chapter One

  Mel stepped out of her car and froze. Damn. The condo was dark. Pitch dark. Nia never turned off a light, let alone all of them. Ever.

  Worst-case scenarios played across her mind until she wanted to jump back in her car and drive away. Mel rubbed her hand up her arm, quelling the goose bumps rising on her skin. She forced herself to try to be optimistic. Maybe Nia went out earlier in the afternoon and, by some freak chance, didn’t leave any lights on?

  No way. That was horseshit, and Mel knew it. She’d lived with Nia for two years now. The girl was incapable of facing the dark.

  Mel took a deep breath. Coming up with positive scenarios was difficult for her. The day she turned eighteen, the Muse of Tragic Poetry blossomed inside her, and with it came a penchant for tragedy. The glass was not only half-empty in her mind, but it could shatter at any moment. The awakening of her muse also caused her to have crazy dreams about a run-down theater and a group of women like her, who had a higher calling.

  Now, ten years later, she’d found her soul sisters, her fellow muses. Although they were mortal women only embodying the original Greek muses, each of her sisters had been chosen as a vessel—for reasons that were only clear to the gods themselves—to inspire the next generation of mankind. Together they’d worked and saved and pooled their money to buy the theater before it was marked for demolition, and together, they would restore it. The Theater of the Muses, Les Neufs Soeurs, would once again bring together the thinkers and artists and dreamers of the world.

  But in spite of the progress toward their ultimate goal, she still struggled against a part of herself that continued to live in a perpetual state of angst.

  Standing in the dark street where she could be hit by a car or abducted by an ax murderer wasn’t helping.

  Before she slammed the car door, she leaned in, snagging her messenger bag from the passenger seat. Her students’ English papers still needed grading. This is probably nothing.

  With the bag slung over her shoulder, she locked the car and crossed to her front door.

  Even the porch light, Nia’s twenty-four hour beacon, was off. A chill slithered down Mel’s spine like a viper. Her roommate, the reborn Muse of Astronomy, didn’t have energy conservation on her radar. She was all about stars and beacons of light in the darkness.

  Talons of dread sank into the muscles on Mel’s shoulders, and her chest constricted. The silence magnified each click as she slid her key into the lock. She opened the door slowly, her hand searching for the switch on the wall beside the door.

  Light flooded the room, and her heart stopped. Nia’s lifeless blue eyes gazed up from the floor at the base of the stairs.

  “No!” Mel collapsed next to her, pressing her fingers against Nia’s neck in search of a pulse. No sign of a heartbeat but her skin was still warm. Her head was at an impossible angle, a small halo of blood framing her blond hair like a shadow.

  “No,” she breathed. “Nia, no.” Mel blinked back hot tears, turning toward the staircase and looking it up and down. What had happened? Had she fallen?

  With a trembling hand, Mel reached over to clos
e Nia’s eyes. Then she scrambled back, her stomach twisting. While her mind was always quick to envision the worst, this was the first time reality had lived up to her expectations—maybe even beyond. She made it back outside to the porch before she lost her dinner over the railing. Coughing, she fumbled for her cell phone in the pocket of her blazer and then dialed.

  “9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” the voice on the other end of the line asked.

  “My roommate. She’s—” Her voice cracked on a sob.

  “Is she injured?”

  “Yes. No. I mean, she was.” Mel squeezed her eyes shut, begging her brain to engage. “She’s dead. I think she fell. I don’t know. I just got home.”

  The operator managed to coax her address from her and kept her on the line until the first police car pulled up, lights flashing. She wasn’t sure how many others followed.

  Mel was vaguely aware of the officers jogging toward her and then disappearing inside while she sat on the steps, lost in a fog of shock, oblivious to the cops and medics going in and out of her condo. But one thought gnawed at her, refusing to be ignored: the lights had been off.

  Nia wouldn’t have come down the stairs in the dark. Not in a million years. The Muse inside of her thirsted for light. She didn’t even sleep in the dark. So who had turned them off?

  “Are you Melanie Jacoby?”

  She flinched at the sound of the stranger’s deep voice and blinked to find herself staring up at a broad-shouldered man dressed in navy-blue slacks and a white dress shirt. His cuffs were rolled up, exposing chiseled forearms. A tie hung loosely around his neck, the top button unfastened.

  “Mel,” she muttered, lifting her gaze to his face. He had a strong jawline and bright green eyes, almost gray, in stark contrast to his dark hair. “Call me Mel.”