on all night, just about.”
Ana wasn’t exaggerating. Two rounds of vegetable appetizers
took the edge off her hunger. Then came the salad. Since Sin had been adjusting
to drinking blood from the local bank for her meals, her stomach wasn’t
prepared for so much food.
Sin sipped at the gingered carrot soup and listened to the
conversation around her. But she couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to the
brothers. Gower wore a black pullover sweater that fit his form so snugly, she
itched to run her hands over it. Cashmere, she guessed, and she wondered what
the soft fabric would feel like on that hard body.
Baen was more casual in a navy wool shirt with the neck
unbuttoned. If she stuck her nose inside the collar, she knew she’d inhale
clean shirt and his scent, a heady combination. Enos, in a knit pullover, still
had his sleeves pushed up to the elbow after cooking all afternoon. She had
never paid attention to the lower arms of a man, but his were muscular, with
prominent veins that spoke of strength.
She held in a sigh. She needed to quit thinking about sex,
but how could she when the presence of any of the three ratcheted up her
temperature? She was sure her blood pressure, if she had any now, went up just
from looking at them. At times she had to concentrate on her breathing to keep
from sounding as if she’d just run a lap around the block.
Ana was looking in her direction, so Sin focused on what she
said. “It’s been a few years since an outcomer moved into the valley.”
“Outcomer?” Sin asked.
“Someone from outside the valley. We don’t get a lot of
visitors.”
Marrett cleared his throat. “You know who’s responsible for
that. Our forefathers.”
“My fourth-great-grandmother, to be exact,” Ana said. “She
cast the spell on the valley, making it hidden from outcomers.”
“Like Brigadoon?” Sin loved that movie as a child,
repeatedly watching the tale of a village in Scotland that only awakened at
certain times.
“Somewhat.” Ana set down her wine glass. “It doesn’t really
disappear, or go to sleep. We keep on enjoying our lifestyle, coming and going
from other areas. But only those who have business here will see the signs on
the highway directing them to Whispering Valley.”
“Wow, your ancestor was very protective of the village.”
Marrett spoke after swallowing some salmon. “Our forefathers
needed to be. They moved here because of persecution for their spiritual
practices, or because they were shifters or demon hunters. Your
great-grandfather George learned of Whispering Valley through his collections.
He taught me a lot while I was growing up. My family has worked in demon
cleansing for centuries.”
She looked at the different people sitting around the table.
“Is everyone related to the original settlers?”
Sophia, Ana’s sister, shook her head. “No. New people find
their way here like your family did. But with a total population of three
hundred forty-three, you can see it doesn’t happen very often.”
Sin had never lived in a small town, and found herself
liking the idea that one day soon she’d know everyone. There was a comfort in
being a part of a larger whole. For the first time since hearing she’d
inherited the old house, she looked at it as beneficial, rather than just a
place to escape.
After sampling all the delicious courses, she sat in the
living room with the others, sipping her latte. She was certain she would
burst, and hoped her sweater was tight enough to hide the muffin-top the large
meal had surely given her. Soon, Marrett and the Williams sisters left and she was
alone with the MacDuirmads. Music played softly in the background and Enos sat
beside her while his brothers cleaned the kitchen.
“That meal was exquisite,” she told him.
“Thanks. If you all enjoyed eating it half as much as I
enjoyed cooking it, I’m satisfied.”
She set her mug on a coaster on the antique Queen Anne side
table and pivoted on the loveseat to
Ana wasn’t exaggerating. Two rounds of vegetable appetizers
took the edge off her hunger. Then came the salad. Since Sin had been adjusting
to drinking blood from the local bank for her meals, her stomach wasn’t
prepared for so much food.
Sin sipped at the gingered carrot soup and listened to the
conversation around her. But she couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to the
brothers. Gower wore a black pullover sweater that fit his form so snugly, she
itched to run her hands over it. Cashmere, she guessed, and she wondered what
the soft fabric would feel like on that hard body.
Baen was more casual in a navy wool shirt with the neck
unbuttoned. If she stuck her nose inside the collar, she knew she’d inhale
clean shirt and his scent, a heady combination. Enos, in a knit pullover, still
had his sleeves pushed up to the elbow after cooking all afternoon. She had
never paid attention to the lower arms of a man, but his were muscular, with
prominent veins that spoke of strength.
She held in a sigh. She needed to quit thinking about sex,
but how could she when the presence of any of the three ratcheted up her
temperature? She was sure her blood pressure, if she had any now, went up just
from looking at them. At times she had to concentrate on her breathing to keep
from sounding as if she’d just run a lap around the block.
Ana was looking in her direction, so Sin focused on what she
said. “It’s been a few years since an outcomer moved into the valley.”
“Outcomer?” Sin asked.
“Someone from outside the valley. We don’t get a lot of
visitors.”
Marrett cleared his throat. “You know who’s responsible for
that. Our forefathers.”
“My fourth-great-grandmother, to be exact,” Ana said. “She
cast the spell on the valley, making it hidden from outcomers.”
“Like Brigadoon?” Sin loved that movie as a child,
repeatedly watching the tale of a village in Scotland that only awakened at
certain times.
“Somewhat.” Ana set down her wine glass. “It doesn’t really
disappear, or go to sleep. We keep on enjoying our lifestyle, coming and going
from other areas. But only those who have business here will see the signs on
the highway directing them to Whispering Valley.”
“Wow, your ancestor was very protective of the village.”
Marrett spoke after swallowing some salmon. “Our forefathers
needed to be. They moved here because of persecution for their spiritual
practices, or because they were shifters or demon hunters. Your
great-grandfather George learned of Whispering Valley through his collections.
He taught me a lot while I was growing up. My family has worked in demon
cleansing for centuries.”
She looked at the different people sitting around the table.
“Is everyone related to the original settlers?”
Sophia, Ana’s sister, shook her head. “No. New people find
their way here like your family did. But with a total population of three
hundred forty-three, you can see it doesn’t happen very often.”
Sin had never lived in a small town, and found herself
liking the idea that one day soon she’d know everyone. There was a comfort in
being a part of a larger whole. For the first time since hearing she’d
inherited the old house, she looked at it as beneficial, rather than just a
place to escape.
After sampling all the delicious courses, she sat in the
living room with the others, sipping her latte. She was certain she would
burst, and hoped her sweater was tight enough to hide the muffin-top the large
meal had surely given her. Soon, Marrett and the Williams sisters left and she was
alone with the MacDuirmads. Music played softly in the background and Enos sat
beside her while his brothers cleaned the kitchen.
“That meal was exquisite,” she told him.
“Thanks. If you all enjoyed eating it half as much as I
enjoyed cooking it, I’m satisfied.”
She set her mug on a coaster on the antique Queen Anne side
table and pivoted on the loveseat to
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