Old Souls

Copyright ©2013 by P.A. Lupton

First Edition: February 2013

The characters, plot and events in this book are a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional by the author.  The author holds exclusive rights to the content within this book.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means or stored in any database or retrieval system without prior written authorization from the author.

Cover artwork
by Phatpuppy Art

For more information:

http://www.palupton.com

ISBN (e-Book): 
978-0-9877493-2-1

Bound by Blood – Garner Witch Series (Book 1)

To my Husband,

Thank you for loving and supporting me no matter what—especially since I spend the majority of my day with my head in the clouds. You are infinitely patient, and I love you with all my heart.

To my Goodreads Posse,

You girls know who you are, I love you all. You make reading an adventure and you guys are the reason I write.

A special mention to my beta readers…

Katie, Barbara, and Katya
, your input was invaluable.

Thank you!

First Impressions

My anxiety spiked as I entered the boardroom. The lights had been dimmed to accommodate the projector that sat on the long wooden table, and a pull down screen hung at the adjacent end. Twenty seats surrounded the table, most already filled with coworkers. Some I recognized, some I didn’t.  No matter how I tried, I was unable to shake this odd feeling that had overwhelmed me all morning. A foreboding sense that something significant was about to happen. No wonder my nerves were stretched tight.

Why was I so edgy? I was new to the job, yes, but I’d been here two weeks and was growing more comfortable every day. As one of the youngest, most sought after graphic artists in the advertising business, I had confidence in my abilities.  And landing the position of art director at Young and Rubicam, one of
Toronto’s largest firms, was a dream come true.  Today, Mark Young—
the
Young of Young and Rubicam—was attending. I’d been working on a project for one of the firm’s largest clients, and Mark Young always made final approval on important accounts. I’d yet to meet him, which is probably why I was so jumpy and tense.

“You all right? You look like you’re gonna puke.” Although he sounded concerned, I noted a trace of humor in the familiar voice. Colin was my manager, and also the one who recommended me for this position. Not only was he my biggest fan, but he was also my best friend. He
had been my TA in university and it hadn’t taken long for us to become friends, especially with the easy rapport we shared.

I flashed him a tentative smile. “Um, I’m fine. Just haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Don’t be nervous, your designs are brilliant. Everyone’ll love them.”

“You’re biased.”

“Of course I am, but that doesn’t mean you’re
not
brilliant.” He smiled. “You, girl, have an amazing talent. I wouldn’t bullshit you.”

“Thanks.” I sighed. “I know it’s pathetic, but I needed the pep talk. This is my first big presentation and I think I’m just nervous it’s happening in front of the big boss. What if he hates my ideas?”

“No worries, he’ll love your work.” He winked as he pulled out a chair for me. “Besides, I’ve got your back.”

Slanting a grateful smile, I watched as he took the seat beside me. And despite Colin’s uncanny ability to lighten my mood, I just couldn’t shake my growing tension. Probably sleep deprivation. Really, I wasn’t lying, I hadn’t been sleeping lately. In fact, strange dreams had plagued me since the day I started my new job.

Despite the timing, my dreams had absolutely nothing to do with work. They were more…
personal
in nature. They were good, amazing even, but lately some of the dreams had become …unsettling. And by unsettling, I mean down right terrifying. Still, I’d overlook ten times as many nightmares in order to experience the good ones. Heat spread across my face as the memory of the one I’d had last night replayed itself in my mind.

A smile tilted my mouth as I recalled the man who played a starring role in my dreams. Stunning was far too tame a word to describe him. Seriously, even I had to give myself props for my imagination. Profound talent was required to conjure that man—I would never again doubt my artistic skill.

High cheekbones and full lips softened the strong, masculine lines of his face, but the sharp angle of his jaw gave him a rugged look. The combination of hard and soft balanced his features, making the overall effect utterly irresistible. He had shoulder length auburn hair, and a strong dark brow. Ridiculously long, black eyelashes framed the most intense crystal blue eyes I’d ever seen. His clothes were strange, though. He wore a black, cropped riding coat with dark grey breeches tucked into leather boots. He was dressed like one of the heroes on the cover of the novels that I read. His clothing told me I needed to lay off the historical romances I loved so much, but proof of that fact was unarguable when
my
hero spoke. 

“Je vis d'amour et d'eau douce.” the words, whispered as he leaned in to kiss me, echoed through my mind daily.
It wasn’t just the husky, sensual tone of his voice that had me replaying the words over and over; it was their meaning that pulled at my heart.

It was the strangest thing. I’d never spoken a word of French in my life, and yet in my dreams I had entire conversations with him in the language. Well, when we were having conversations, that is. But when I woke up, I could remember the words he’d spoken but I no longer understood their meaning. I had to Google it. ‘
Je vis d'amour et d'eau douce’ translated: I live on love and water. My dream man was a romantic.

Romantic words and gorgeous looks aside, what had me dwelling on the dreams was how real they felt. Less like vague impressions and more like memories—almost as if it had really happened.  So realistic, I still felt the tingle in my lips as I was overtaken with flashbacks of his mouth claiming mine, possessing me while his tongue pushed past my lips and explored my mouth. Leisurely, the man kissed like he had nowhere else he wanted to be. Like nothing in the world existed except the two of us. Slow and teasing. And how pathetic was it that the best kiss I’d ever had (and I mean
ever
), occurred in my sleep? Every time I dreamt of him, it ended up in the same place. My sex life had never been so good. I might’ve been asleep while it happened, but in my book it still counted, especially since I was reaping all the physical side effects. I’d never had so many orgasms while I was awake. How sad was that? I’d wake up with my heart hammering in my chest, panting for breath like I’d run a marathon. Even now, the memory alone had my body pulsating.

“I’d kill to know what you’re thinking right now.” Colin’s voice broke through my daydream. It was like being doused with cold water.
Suddenly, and without warning I was thrust back to reality.

That’s right, important meeting.
Focus on work, Alyssa.

“Nothing,” I lied. “Just my designs.”

“Your designs are fantastic, but not good enough to justify
that
smile. Not to mention the fact that you’re breathing funny
and
you’re all flushed.” He snorted. “It’s a man.”

“That’s ridiculous” I denied.

“Oh yeah, it’s a man alright.”

“I didn’t admit anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” He leaned in eagerly awaiting the juicy details. Unable to resist, he was like a woman when it came to gossip. “Who is he? Anyone I know?”

Refusing to answer, I opened the folders in front of me and pretended to be busy. He watched me avoid his gaze with amusement.  “Come on, spill.”

Man, he was relentless. Like a dog with a bone. Smirking, I arched my brow and remained silent. He returned my stare, patiently—better at this battle of wills than I was. His deep set, brown eyes bored into mine, a master at finagling confessions from me.

“Let’s get started.” One of the executives from marketing announced. “Mr. Young is running late, but he’ll be along shortly.”

I was glad for the interruption since I wouldn’t have held out under Colin’s scrutiny much longer. And I didn’t want the humiliation of admitting I was fantasizing about imaginary men now. How had my love life had become
that
tragic?

***

Partway through the meeting my heart unexpectedly took off in an erratic gallop. My breathing sped and a warm tingle spread over my body. At first it felt like the response came out of the blue, but I was actually having some kind of reaction to a strange vibrating hum that had spontaneously taken root in my veins. The sensation was completely unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant. Something weird was happening, and whatever it was, it felt like the source of the current was getting closer.

“You all
right?” Colin leaned over and whispered.

“Fine.” I snapped back, trying to act like I was paying attention to the presentation at the front of the room, like I couldn’t feel… something—I wasn’t sure what—getting closer.

I tried to control my pulse and slow down my breathing. The more I thought about it the more I realized this wasn’t a new sensation. I’d definitely felt it before, mind you on a much smaller scale. It had started the day I interviewed for this job, but never as strong as it was now. What I’d felt then compared to what I felt now was like trying to compare static electricity to a bolt of lightning. Both were energy, but there was a vast difference in intensity. Right now, the buzz was lightning.

What was once a whisper, a vague hint of something to come, was now a roaring hum through my veins that screamed so loudly I barely heard anything beyond the rush of blood in my veins. Whatever approached outside that door would change my life forever.
This was it.
This
was what I’d felt looming. I don’t know how I knew it so certainly, but I did. Deep inside, something that had been buried had just come alive.

The suddenness of the attack was so terrifying, so powerful and unexpected I’d almost given in to panic. Before I had a chance to freak out though, the door to the board room opened and all other thoughts and concerns evaporated when I saw the man towering in the doorway. The world screeched to a jarring halt when
he
stepped into the room.  Frozen in place, I was completely unable to move or speak, drawn in by piercing blue eyes. Eyes that made the gravitational pull of the earth feel weak in comparison. I couldn’t have looked away if my life depended on it.  The man standing in front of me was the man of my dreams, and I didn’t mean that figuratively. He had shorter hair, and he was dressed in a designer business suit, but it was him, the man I’d been dreaming about the past two weeks.

The man running our meeting stood quickly, practically tripping over himself when he saw the man in the door. “Mr. Young, we were just about to—”

“Everyone out.” The man—Mr. Young, apparently— bit out tersely, offering no explanation. His eyes never left mine as he ordered, “
You
, stay.”

God, my dreams didn’t do his voice justice at all. There was a dark, seductive tone to it that made me want to strip my clothes off where I stood. Wait, what was I thinking? I was in the middle of a meeting. I shook myself back to reality and it finally hit me what he’d just said. Was he talking to me? He wanted me to stay? Shocked, my eyes widened and I looked to my left then my right. Surely he was talking to someone else. Hesitantly, I asked, “
Me?”

“Yes, you.”

What the hell? I was taken aback by his gruff tone. Where was that soft romantic tenor from my dreams?  His voice was slightly accented, but other than that he was completely different. Abrasive. And why was he glaring at me like he was angry? I’d never met the man—at least not in person anyway.