Scorned by Tyffani Clark Kemp Read Free Book Online Page B

was
worried. “Do I need to fetch a doctor?”
    “No,” but my voice was still breathless.
“Are you a witch?”
    He snorted. “Hardly.”
    “Did we dematerialize?”
    “No.” There was a frown, maybe confusion in
his voice.
    “The wind didn’t pass through us?”
    “Is that what it felt like to you?”
    I nodded. “Yes.”
    He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful,
before he answered. “I’ve never heard of that before, but I suppose
it is different for everyone. Perhaps that is why you lost your
breath. Perhaps that is why you felt...”
    “How did I feel?” I asked then wished I
could take it back. I felt his amusement in my head, but he
otherwise ignored the awkward moment.
    “Would you like to stay here by the ocean,
or would you rather go up to the bungalow for some tea?”
    I glanced up at the silvery moon that hung
low over the water, its reflection a glowing twin orb disturbed
only by the breaking waves that crashed on the beach at my feet. I
turned to find torches burning a path to the door of a thatch
roofed bungalow where flickering candlelight could be seen through
the windows.
    Roman smiled mischievously, pleased with
himself.
    “We can go to the bungalow.” I tried to keep
the excitement out of my voice.
    Roman stood in one smooth motion and swept
me up into his arms.
    “Um...okay.” I didn’t protest because I was
still having trouble catching my breath. He carried me quickly
across the sand and over the threshold into the bungalow. There was
a bed in the far corner, overlaid with a gauzy material that I
assumed to be a mosquito net. The bedspread was a deep blood red
that shimmered faintly. Gold strands twined through the fabric and
shone in the candlelight. Tons of pillows covered the top half of
the bed in matching red, black, and gold. Above the bed golden
gauze waved over a window.
    The floor was made of smooth slats of wood.
On the other side was a sitting area; two richly upholstered
armchairs that matched the red, black, and gold decor, and a love
seat. These all faced the bed, arranged around a coffee table that
held a steaming tea kettle. There was no source of heat with which
to make the tea.
    “Would you care to have a seat?” Roman
motioned me to the sofa and took his own place across from me in
one of the arm chairs.
    “This is nice.” I don’t think there could
have been a bigger understatement. The bungalow reeked of seduction
and comfort.
    “You have questions, Miss Scott,” Roman
began as he settled into his chair. “Please, do not allow me to
dominate the conversation.”
    What a gentleman.
    “You can fly.”
    “Yes.”
    “What are you?”
    “I think,” he tapped his full bottom lip
with his finger, drawing my attention there.
    Oh, he’s good at this game.
    “I think that may be best left for another
time.
    I poured myself some tea. “You want
some?”
    “No, thank you.”
    The kettle was light, even though it was
full of tea. I poured my little teacup as full as I dared, and
dumped sugar into the steaming liquid. When I looked up, Roman’s
eyes, danced with amusement.
    “I’m not a fan of tea,” I told him. “I use a
lot of sugar.”
    “I see that,” he nodded. “I will have to
keep that in mind. Just out of curiosity, of what are you a
fan?”
    “Hot chocolate.” I blew on the liquid. “And
big artistic mugs.” I sipped at the tea, proud of my ability to
keep a straight face. “The other day at the store. You caught my
beer.”
    Roman nodded. “I have a slight gift of
foresight. It’s not very strong, but I saw the box breaking. You
cried. I did not want you to cry.”
    “You saw me crying, and this bothered you.”
He nodded. “Why?”
    It took him a moment to answer, as if he
wanted to get the words exactly right before he gave me his answer.
“It hurts me to see women cry. Physically.” He touched a place over
his heart and a pained look furrowed his brow.
    “Who is Lucretious?” I was hoping to change
the subject and wipe the pain