Leather and Lace [Skinwalkers 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Jane Jamison

Author:Jane Jamison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Published: 2013-09-19T16:00:00+00:00

* * * *

Cleaning up the dishes and the stove didn’t take long. Chan was one of those cooks who cleaned up as he went along. Satisfied that everything looked good, she took one longing glance at the back door leading into the cave, then took the knife in hand and left the kitchen. She felt kind of silly holding the knife like she was stuck in a horror movie about to get attacked by a serial killer. But it did make her feel more secure with the men out of the house.

Ideas swarmed in her head as she checked the rest of the downstairs. Had her imagination run wild earlier? That had to be the explanation. She’d simply remembered something she’d seen in a movie. But the man had seemed real, too real not to be someone from her past. And yet, she knew he couldn’t have transformed into a fanged-out monster. That was ridiculous.

She walked around the living room and ran her fingertips over the hand-carved furniture. Although not like the polished furniture found in a store, it was durable and had a rustic, imperfect beauty to it. She wondered if Zack’s family had made it. If so, it was more valuable than any high-end furniture because it was part of his legacy.

The image of the killer struck her again, jangling her already rattled nerves. She sat down on the sofa, put the knife on the coffee table, and tried to push all thoughts of him away. Instead, she focused on her name, sensing that if she could remember her last name, she might open the floodgate of memories and let them spill in.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. Saying her name was like a mantra that could calm her, and if she was lucky, bring her more information.

Lace.

Lace.

Lace.

Lace what?

Yet instead of the answer to that question, another word came slinking in to take its place.

Stripper.

Stripper?

Was she a stripper? She wanted to refuse the word, but it stayed. Opening her eyes, she tried to imagine herself dancing on a platform in front of a crowd of men. Dollar bills lay at her feet and when she bent over, she realized that she had nothing on.

She stood up, her heart going as fast as her mind. It couldn’t be true. She wasn’t a stripper. If she was, she was sure she’d remember it. Dancing for strangers didn’t feel like it fit with her personality.

“Maybe I’m still confused. And maybe it’s too soon to force anything out of me.”

She paced over to an old roll-top-style desk and flattened both hands on the surface. That had to be it. She was pushing too hard. She wasn’t a stripper. She just knew it.

Then what am I?

Frustration boiled inside her and she fisted her hand then brought it down hard. The desk rattled and a book perched against the back of it fell over. She reached to put it back into place, but fumbled and let the book fall open.

It wasn’t just any book.

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