Ryder on the Storm: Emerald Seer I by Violet Patterson Read Free Book Online Page A

now. Then pain, that wretched, searing pain. Dammit.
     
    When she woke, Storm found herself propped against Shane, his arms around her, still on the floor. “I think it is time we had a talk, Storm. A real talk. You can’t hide this anymore, and you shouldn’t have to. Not from us. Why don’t we stay in tonight?”
     
    Too drained to register the full meaning of his words, Storm simply nodded against his chest. She allowed him to stand. Shane lifted her easily, as if she were weightless, and carried her upstairs.
     
    “I am going to help Dan unload the rest of your stuff and by then you should be rejuvenated so we can have that talk.” Shane pulled the quilt over her and kissed her forehead lightly. “Oh, and don’t try slipping out. We will find you. No more avoiding this, babe.”
     
    Storm drifted off, her dreams a strange kaleidoscope of faces and colors. Trin kept telling her to listen, to see, and to feel. She awoke with Trin’s perfume in her nose. She’d been there. Somehow Trin had been there. Damn. Creepy. The thought passed quickly as she was interrupted by a sexy tenor.
     
    “Afternoon, sunshine. How about you hop out of bed, shower up, and meet us in the study in ten?” Dan looked down at her, his expression unreadable but not unpleasant. The sunlight from the window cast a long shadow across the room. For a second she swore there were wings protruding from the shadow’s back. She opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, closed her mouth, and nodded her agreement instead. Storm rubbed at her eyes, still feeling heavy from the sleep.
     
    “Shower, dress, study in ten minutes. Will do, boss. But, what is this all about? I am not used to you two being so serious.”
     
    “Quit stalling and clean up.” Dan already smelled clean, his hair still damp and clean clothes had replaced the dish soap outfit. Man did he smell good, sweet and clean and somehow a little spicy. “Now, Storm.” If not for his smile, Storm may have been a bit intimidated.
     
    “Alright, alright, I am up and moving!” To illustrate her point, Storm sat up and threw off her cover in one fluid motion. “Ten minutes.”
     
    True to her word, ten minutes later Storm stood outside the cherry-wood six-paneled doors that led to the family study. Pushing the doors inward, Storm noticed immediately that the study was completely unchanged, and still completely unlike any study she’d ever seen. As a child, she’d spent hours reading on the patched up, antique sofa. Every book that filled the floor to ceiling, handcrafted cherry wood shelves an original print. The massive shelves spanned three full walls, the fourth a wall of glass with doors that opened to a patio overlooking the orchard. Storm spun around for a moment, taking in the thousands of glorious books in every genre imaginable. She had read them all by her seventeenth birthday, even the family histories that appeared to be locked in the same glass paneled cabinet that had housed them during her childhood. A fire danced in the cobbles-stoned hearth and the heavy cherry wood mantle still held all of the familiar pictures of Storm at various stages of life. She walked over and ran her fingertips along the mantle, stopping at a picture of that had been taken in the orchard just before she’d left. The last picture Aunt Trin had taken of her. She remembered the day. A throat cleared behind her, pausing the walk down memory lane. Storm turned to face the inevitable.
     
    Dan sat at the enormous cherry wood desk. Her ancestors clearly had a thing for cherry wood. Sheesh. At least Aunt Trin and her mother had added some personality by way of various stained glass lamps including a small butterfly one on the desk. Shane lounged in her father’s camel-colored wingback chair. It too had seen better days but he looked comfortable enough. The closeness of the space suddenly felt suffocating. She crossed to the wall of windows and began pulling back the heavy, burgundy