“Aerolus didn’t want much.” She tried a small smile. “Look, Mister…?” He didn’t fill in his name, and she sensed he wasn’t buying her version of Trudy. Shit. Time for a diversion. “I told him about the woman hanging around your house, and he—”
“What woman?”
Arim looked ready to bite her in half, and his tone was clearly superior, demanding her immediate response. His manner made her think of the noble Aellei, and she inwardly bristled. Even as she formed the words, she called herself five kinds of stupid. But then, she’d never known when to back down, hence her sojourn to this realm.
“Excuse me.” She glared loftily up at him and assumed Trudy’s best professorial tone. “But I don’t recall inviting you in here. Just who the hell are you?”
Arim didn’t blink, but she could see a subtle tightening of his brow, a telling reaction that in Aerolus signalled puzzlement. Studying the sorcerer, Alandra noted the many similarities between uncle and nephew and wondered if all Storm Lords had that same arrogance, and that same potent, sexual allure.
“My name is Arim,” he bit icily. “Now, about that woman you mentioned?”
He withdrew his spell, and she could almost hear him debating whether to pry it from her psychically, making her wonder about his people. In Aelle, when a body threatened the royal family, as occurred on a daily basis, the order was action first, questions second. Apparently, the Storm Lords had a better grasp of the intelligent way to ferret information.
It took way too much effort to make the dead speak.
Arim’s gaze began to burn. Alandra hastily focused and told him what she’d told Aerolus, sensing she’d worn his patience thin.
As she’d planned, her description of herself set him on edge.
“You say she had a glow to her skin, white hair and violet eyes?”
“Yes.”
“How could you tell her eye colour from here?”
She flushed. “I have a telescope I use for star watching. It must have been pointed at your nephew’s house the other day.”
“I see.” He eyed her up and down, and she sensed he did indeed see. Thank the shadows for Trudy’s physical mantle of desperation. “I should be grateful you have an appreciation for heavenly bodies.”
Though he spoke plainly, his words dripped with sarcasm. And despite the danger of the situation, her Aellei blood clamoured for some fun while pushing him into leaving. “You know,” she said with a slow, hungry smile, one that had his face clearing of all expression. “You could thank me over a light dinner, and perhaps, some wine?”
He simply stared, and she could tell she’d discomfited him.
“Actually, I have to get back.”
“What’s your rush, Arim?” She blinked and pouted, and he took an actual step back.
“Why not stay a little longer,” she paused and stroked the upper slope of her breast suggestively. “Make it a real date, and I’ll cook you breakfast tomorrow,” she teased.
“I’m sorry to have taken your time, Professor.”
She tried to look forlorn, but wanted to laugh when she felt a large mental shove to forget all about him.
“I’m sorry, but what was I saying? Ah, I forget your name.”
He shook his head. “I was never here.”
He vanished in the blink of an eye, and had she been of this world, she surely would have forgotten all about Arim the Light Bringer. As it was, her kind loved Dark magic, and the anger burning brightly in Arim tainted his energy just enough to empower Alandra.
Brimming with good cheer, that she’d managed to fool the powerful sorcerer and that she’d soon be returning to the shadows in the spaces between, Alandra shimmered back into herself and left Trudy’s house.
The minute she entered the pocket of space between worlds, she felt Aerolus’ draw. She’d left him a subtle trail—one only he would be able to see—weeks ago, having assumed they’d have met again before now.
Sensing tendrils of elemental magic, Alandra nodded grimly and sought the source of her frustrating desire.
She entered the small, floating structure that served as her temporary home. Made of an alien rock, one that both protected and contained her magic, the cottage felt more like a small part of a larger estate, much like the tower room she’d left in Aelle. In this place she’d gathered enough odds and ends to remain comfortable, if not content.
A large bed, a small desk, and a table and odd chairs sat in various spaces in her open living area. One aspect of this new home pleased her tremendously. Light never seemed to go very far in the between, and the glorious darkness was filled with the untapped potential of great magic.
Untapped potential, she thought, searching for her reason behind this visit. There, in the richness of shadow and surrounded by her powerful protective energies, waited Aerolus Storm. He sat at her desk, studying the hastily ‘borrowed’ scrolls she’d recently added to her growing collection.
“Well, well, well,” she murmured as she set foot on the smooth patch of carpet that served as the flooring in her comfortable shelter. “Aerolus Storm, as I live and breathe.”
He glanced up from her desk, a pinch of annoyance barely visible on his exotic face. His eyes glowed bright silver, and as if she were back looking through the telescope, Alandra felt the heat of lust sear her soul as she stared at him.
“The woman in white,” he said softly, rising to a height that easily surpassed hers. “It’s time I stopped avoiding you, hmm?”
Hearing him admit his avoidance annoyed her. “Yes. It’s time we talked, Wind Mage.”
“My name is Aerolus, which you already know.” He circled her desk and approached until he stood a few feet away. The fact that he towered over her irritated her further.
“By what name are you called, purie?”
Purie. Little one. She scowled. “I’m no child.”
“I can see that,” he murmured.
“And I’ve been waiting for quite some time. Have you any idea what kind of trouble you’re in?”
He shook his head and stepped closer. “We’re always in trouble.”
“I’m sure you are.” She sniffed, wanting to be appeased. “I’d like to know why it took you so long to find me.” She crossed her arms, waiting.
He simply stared at her, studying her like an intriguing species he’d recently discovered. She wanted to throw something, stamp her foot, scream in frustration, but knew she’d only look childish—the last thing she wanted to appear if she were to hold the upper hand.
For the past year she’d watched Aerolus and knew his many moods. Right now, if they were back in Seattle, she had no doubt he’d do his best to pin her under a microscope for dissection. What a wonderful way to establish dominance, she thought with disgust.
“You’re here,” he said bluntly, his voice a raspy seduction in itself, one she had to force herself to ignore. “You’re real.”
She frowned. “Yes, I’m here, and I’m real. Honestly, Aerolus, I’ve been waiting a long time to have this discussion, and I still have doubts you’re worth the trouble.”
He was worth the trouble, and that was the problem. But what truly concerned her was her growing desire that showed no sign of abating. The way he looked at her made her heart race and her womb clench. Unfortunately, knowing Aerolus, he suffered not from lust, but from an overabundance of scholarly enthusiasm. The man had shown little to no interest in sex for an entire year, at least, until his performance this morning.
She flushed, hoping he credited her colouring with anger.
He stepped closer, no more than a few inches separating them. “You have no idea how much I wished I’d responded sooner.”