Page 12 of Twilight Echoes
Yet her symptoms didn’t present as a typical painful joint.
“I didn’t think all this through. I should have known that you were part fairy. I knew about your sister and Jackson. I just never believed we could have been part of that legend.” He stood about five inches taller than her five-seven frame. His biceps filled out the fabric of his black T-shirt. He might be on the thin side, but he didn’t lack in the muscle department. “I should have reached out to your father on my own. Although, him being a prince and all doesn’t make it easy.”
“You would have had to get ahold of his secretary. Make an appointment. It would have been a whole thing, even though the two of you have met before. I’m happy to do this for you.” She patted Darrell’s chest. “I’ve always thought I owed you one.”
“For what?” He stood only inches away, his hand resting on her forearm, dust flying everywhere.
She had to swallow a moan, which made her cough. She cleared her throat. “Making a five-year-old look like a ballerina.”
“No need to be modest now. You were the most talented girl in that room, and you know it.”
Her cheeks heated. Knowing she was good was one thing. Bragging about it was something entirely different. “There were a lot of excellent dancers that day.”
He lifted her chin with his thumb. “But there was only one destined to be a principal dancer, and when we danced, it was like we’d been doing it forever.”
“I was five,” she managed to say as every inch of her skin sizzled with the anticipation of his lips exploring her body.
“That’s part of why it was so amazing. You danced like a seasoned professional. You made me look good.” His thumb traced her lower lip as his gaze followed the motion. “Watching you today made me want to leap onto the stage and perform with you.”
She gasped. Dancing with him had been a wild fantasy. One she stopped entertaining years ago.
“You’re captivating and staying away from you now is going to be impossible,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “When the curse is broken, and I know my pack is safe, you and I will dance again. It just won’t be onstage.”
“Um… oh… okay.” She blinked, trying to get rid of the image frolicking in her head of him naked under bedsheets, his hair all ruffled from a night filled with sex. “I should go get my father,” she managed to ground out.
Darrell took a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll be back shortly. Make yourself at home.” She turned on her heel, and as gracefully as she could, she scurried out of the living room and down the hallway toward her father’s office. She tried to push the idea as far out of her mind as she could that Darrell was not only her soulmate—or in his wolf world, his fated mate.
But they were the second pairing of the Legend of the Fated Moons.
“Dad?” She knocked on the door. Her father, Prince Albert, was a powerful wizard and the head of the royal family and leader of the Coven of the Silver Flock. His duties went far and wide, and one of them was making sure every coven followed all coven laws.
More importantly, they followed the laws of humans and of paranormals.
Most did.
But a few didn’t.
Including her auntie Alley, who had cast a blocking and unlucky spell on Jackson, nearly destroying him and almost killing Amanda.
“Come in,” her father shouted. “I wasn’t expecting you this evening, though I’m quite happy to see you.”
Quietly, she closed the door behind her and greeted her father with a hug and kiss. He stood close to six foot four, and his personality was larger than his thick, muscular body. All her life, he’d been her personal hero, and all four of his girls had been the apple of his eye. Neither she nor her three sisters ever felt as though one was favored over the other, though being the baby meant Avery got away with so much more than her sisters.
“An old friend of mine needs help.”
“Old? Sweetheart, you don’t get old friends until you’re at least in your fifties,” he said with a laugh. “Let me guess, it’s?—”
“Darrell Hughes.” As a small child, interrupting her father would have resulted in the loss of her cell phone privileges. As an adult, it brought a scowl.
But today, it brought an arched brow and the faintest of smiles. “Is this the dancer whose pictures covered your bedroom walls when you were a teenager? The one you said you were going to marry. The one?—”
“Dad, please.” She folded her arms, giving him her best ‘I’m a grown-up’ look. But it did nothing except make her father laugh harder.
“I’m sorry, but for years all you could talk about was that young wolf and you made me take you to every performance he was in when he came to town.” Her father ran his palm over his mouth. At least he tried to wipe the grin off his face. “How is it that he’s an old friend?”
She cocked her head. “Come on, Dad. We trained at the same studio.”
