Veiled Truth by Vivi Anna, now you can read online.
Chapter 1
When the uniformed butler opened the oak doors of the LeNoir estate in Nouveau-Monde, Lyra Magice tried not to be impressed. But she was—big-time. If the gated estate with the winding, stately, tree-lined driveway didn’t astound, then the two-story stone castle would have. The butler inclined his head.
“Bonsoir,mademoisel e.”
“Bonsoir.”Lyra loved speaking French; the sounds were so musical.
“Monsieur LeNoir would like you to wait for him in the parlor.” He swept his arm toward an arched doorway to the right. “May I take your jacket?”
She shrugged out of her brown wool coat and handed it to the butler. He slung it over his arm and directed her to the parlor.
The moment she stepped over the threshold, Lyra felt like she was in a Sherlock Holmes book. The room boasted a huge fireplace with an ornate mantel over top. An old-style sofa and two chairs with end tables sat in front of the crackling flames. Exquisite artwork adorned the walls. Cherrywood floors were stylishly covered with oriental throw rugs. By the look of them, they were probably worth thousands of dol ars apiece.
Even the faint sweet smel of pipe tobacco laced the air. She’d heard that Theron LeNoir was wealthy but truly she had no idea of the extent of it before now. Lyra turned to ask the butler something, but he was already gone. Theron LeNoir stood in the doorway instead.
Looking the part of the wealthy homeowner, he wore dark wool trousers and a button-down shirt with gold cuff links flashing at the wrists. His dark hair was slicked back from his high forehead but unbound. The ends fel over his ears and brushed the col ar of his shirt. At the seminar today he had tied it back, giving him a look of elegance and refinement. With his inky black hair flowing around him, he looked sexy and dangerous.
Smiling, he moved into the room toward her. “Bonsoir,Lyra. I am pleased you accepted my offer to come to my home.”
“Well, I appreciate the invitation. It’s not every day I get to see artifacts and books from witch history.”
“Yes, I imagine a lot of things were lost in the immigration to America as wel as during the persecution. Witches weren’t the only things burned during that time.”
Lyra tried not to watch him as he busied himself at the bar, uncorking a bottle of wine. He had a fluid way of moving, like a meandering stream of cool crisp water. He set out two wineglasses and poured the red liquid into them. Picking them up, he came to Lyra and handed her one. “From the LeNoir vineyard.”
“Thank you.”
He tapped her glass then took a sip, watching her over the rim. Normal y she didn’t drink, but the polite thing to do would be to at least take a sip. Normal y she wasn’t polite, either, but his obvious pleasure at watching her drink prompted her to do so. The wine was heavenly on her tongue as she held it in her mouth for a second then swal owed. It was better than she expected it to be.
He must’ve seen the surprise on her face, because he smiled. “It’s the best wine in France. This particular bottle is over sixty years old.”
“Oh, wel , it’s pretty good then.”
Chuckling, he cupped her elbow and guided her toward the sofa. “Let’s sit and talk. Catch up on the last five years.”
Lyra sat but she real y didn’t want to engage in conversation with Theron. She’d never been good at that, especial y with men. Attractive men, in particular. Or it could’ve just been her fear of speaking with Theron. Seeing him again, being this close to him, made her think about the time five years ago when she attended a spel -casting class and he had been there. He had made an impression on her then, and it seemed it was stil lingering.
Her thighs were quivering something fierce as he sat next to her on the sofa. Not so close that their legs were touching, but near enough that his delicious cologne enticed her senses.
A combination of spice and nature, he smel ed like her herb garden in Necropolis.
“I enjoyed your talk today at the seminar. I didn’t know you were an expert in demon summoning.”
He chuckled. “I’m hardly an expert, Lyra. I have some cursory knowledge that was handed down to me by my maternal grandmother and a keen interest in the dark side of people. Witches in particular.”
He stared at her while he spoke. His gaze was intense.
Lethal even. She could hardly look away. Nervous, she guzzled the wine down and set the glass on the side table. A drop escaped her mouth and it dribbled down her chin. Blushing, she was about to dab it, but Theron beat her to it. With the pad of his thumb, he slowly wiped the red drop away. He held her gaze the whole time and she found she had lost her breath. He had the most amazing gray eyes. Stormy. Fierce. Dangerous.
A caustic combination if she mixed in the fact that he was tal and gorgeous. Definitely not the type of man Lyra usual y found herself alone with. Men like Theron didn’t notice women like her. She had learned that lesson years ago. Yet here he was looking at her as if he wanted to gobble her up in one bite. His sexual potency hadn’t changed in the past five years. Lyra sucked in a deep breath after he dropped his hand from her face and sat back, regarding her mouth with interest. His curiosity bothered her. There had to be an ulterior motive. She had certainly felt something pass between them when they had first spied each other at the seminar. But that could’ve been nothing more than a magic recognition. They were both witches. Kin of a sort. Although he was a dhampir, born from a witch mother and vampire father, he possessed magic and some of the more loathsome vampiric traits, like an ingrained sense of self-importance. Or maybe she was just wishing there had been something flashing between them.
All she knew was that the way he was looking at her now made her nerves zing. She jumped to her feet. “I’d love to see the books now, if you don’t mind.”
He leaned back against the sofa and studied her intently.
Lyra had the sense he was laughing at her in some way. It might’ve been the way his lips twitched at the corners.
“I make you nervous, no?”