It’s creeping towards weekend, and creeping towards release day for me as well. Only a week left to go! I’m definitely getting excited, and I’m hoping to share that with the next installment of my free read prequel. If you missed the first parts you can find them here: Part One Part Two
Really hope you enjoy! 🙂
Emma slowly came back to consciousness. Her head hurt, she definitely wasn’t in her own bed and she was now getting a weird sense of déjà vu. She cautiously opened her eyes – please don’t let there be gravestones everywhere, please! To her relief she at least seemed to be in a bedroom, though she’d been right, it wasn’t hers. The neutral walls, plain furniture and dark sheets were completely unfamiliar. Where the hell was she?
“Hello?” She managed to call out. Fuck, her throat hurt too. This was not turning into a good day.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” The low voice shot through her, and her eyes scanned the room, settling on a tall figure rising from a chair in the corner.
Okay, the day might be looking up. Her brow scrunched up as things started to come back to her.
“You were in the graveyard, you carried me… wait, I wasn’t dreaming?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. How are you feeling now?”
Emma ignored the question, her mind racing. Fuck, it hadn’t been a dream. Her face burned as she remembered fuzzily telling him how cute he was. Urgh, she was never going to live this down!
“I’m sorry, for erm… stuff I said. I was a little out of it.”
He grinned at her, and she couldn’t help notice how his eyes lit up, and little crinkles appeared at the corners. God, she was staring again!
“Hey, anything said under a concussion can’t be held against you.” He winked at her. “And besides, you at least had the good taste to prefer me to my brother. Otherwise you might have something to apologise for.”
Emma closed her eyes as heat seared her face. Shit, there were two people who’d seen her embarrass herself utterly.
“Emma.” His voice was soft, rolling over her name, and her eyes flew open, shooting to him. His gaze was warm. “You honestly have nothing to feel embarrassed about. I was flattered such a beautiful woman thought I was… ‘cute’ to use your words.”
She groaned again, but he made her feel a little better.
“Now, how are you feeling?”
She sat up slowly. “Not too bad. My head kinda hurts, and my ankle, but I’ll live.”
He stepped up next to the bed, his fingers were light as they probed the lump on her head, but it still made her winch.
“You have a nasty bump, and your ankle is sprained. It could have been a lot worse though.”
Emma nodded slowly. “I know. I guess it was lucky you and your brother showed up.”
For a moment anger flashed across his face. “It was damn lucky. God knows what that incompetent teacher of yours was thinking.”
“It was my own fault,” Emma sighed. “I wasn’t sure on one of the symbols and I should have checked.”
“She should have been watching you, that’s her job.” He paused. “Well, it was.”
Her brow creased in confusion. “What do you mean ‘was’. Oh God, you haven’t got her fired. I said it was my fault!”
Shit, she couldn’t be responsible for that. The other students would curse her to high heaven, not to mention poor May might not be one of her favourite teachers, but she had a family to support. Her hand was suddenly taken in a warm grasp.
“Calm down, honey, she’s not fired. She’s just not going to be teaching you necromancy anymore.”
The heat of his palm was traveling up her arm, and it was hard to concentrate on anything else. What did he mean? She was seriously not getting kicked out of the class – okay, so it might not be her strong point, but she would work harder. She was going to get this, damn it.
“Well, I want a new teacher for it then.” She told him firmly.
He grinned at her, his thumb rubbing across the back of her palm, sending tingles shooting through her. “That’s already been arranged.”
She blinked up at him. “Really? Who?”
His grin grew broader. “Me, of course.”
Garret bit back a smile as the book sailed through the air, narrowly missing his head.
“We might need to work on your aim as well,” he mildly commented.
“If I was aiming for you, then I would have damn well hit you. Not that it would have made a dent in your thick head anyway!”
Hands on her hips, she glared at him. Her face was flushed, her eyes spitting green fire. Damn, she was adorable when she was pissed. Probably not the best time to tell her that though – not with so many throwable things within reach.
“You need to calm down,” he told her. “You’re letting your emotions get the better of you. Some aspects of witchcraft you can get away with that, but necromancy requires a calm centre. There’s no place for emotion among the dead.”
“Well, I can see why you like them as much then.” She snapped at him.
He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him then. She was coming along nicely, whether she realized it or not, but patience was not something the little witch seemed to have any reserves of.
“Yes, the dead are frequently preferable to the living. No talking back, no attitude problem, no throwing things.” He grinned at her. “They tend not to be quite as much fun though.”
Her brow scrunched at him, as though she was trying to decide whether he was making fun of her or not.
“I have a raising tonight. I was going to ask if you wanted to come and assist me, since you’ve been doing much better, but if you’re going to throw things…”
For a long moment she stared at him, and he could see the struggle behind her eyes. Then she sighed and the anger seemed to seep out of her. “I would really like to see it done properly.”
He grinned at her. “Great, it’s a date.”
“A what?” Her voice went up an octave.
He laughed at the shock on her face. “Don’t say I don’t know how to show a girl a good time. But in the meantime… back to work.”
“Slave-driver,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing! I didn’t say a word.” The smile she shot him was positively angelic. Yup, he was probably in trouble here.
Leave a Reply