The 7th Son by Kathy L. Wheeler

Author:Kathy L. Wheeler [Wheeler, Kathy L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance, mystery romance, rebel lords of london, historical mystery romance, Regency Romance, Paranormal Romance, ancient curse, gypsy curse
Amazon: B08WRY4YT5
Goodreads: 57301059
Publisher: Kathy L Wheeler
Published: 2021-06-08T05:00:00+00:00

Ten

A

listar disengaged himself from Peyton and disappeared again into the bathroom. He was upset with her, she could tell. She’d pushed him to his limit against a will he strongly believed in. She hadn’t done it on purpose. At least she didn’t think she had.

She adored him, but she didn’t know what she could do to make him feel better. Something to take his mind off the oncoming disaster. He came back in the room and picked up his briefs and pants. Panic seized her. He was going to leave, disappear to sulk. She might never see him again. “The journal.”

“What?” He shrugged into his underwear.

“We have to go through the journal. It’s in my bag.”

He glanced at the clock over the bed. She was surprised to see that it was only twelve twenty. Still, they had less than twelve hours together, if her calculations were correct. If his calculations were correct. “I have a question.”

Alistar blew out a breath. “What?” His earlier question sounded puzzled; this one was terse.

She narrowed her eyes on him. “You’re giving up. You’ve already given up, haven’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He went over to her bag and dug out the diary.

That pissed her off. “Then why the hell am I here?”

He straightened, turning around to face her. Irritation followed by disbelief skittered across his features. Defiant, she held his gaze, her insides shaking with the fierceness of an earthquake, registering seven-point-six on the Richter scale. Did no one ever stand up to this man?

He lifted one haughty brow. “Your question?”

“How do you do that?” She shook her head. “Never mind. You’re just assuming you’ll go insane at the stroke of midnight, right?”

He didn’t answer.

“Your thirty-third year won’t start until the actual time of your birth, in my estimation.”

“Your estimation.” He grabbed the journal and strolled back to the bed. “So you believe I’m allotted another few hours.”

“Well, it’s something, isn’t it?” She felt her bottom lip tremble. “Am I the only one who cares, then?”

Alistar pierced her with that soul-searching stare of his. After a long moment, his jaw relaxed, and his gaze softened. He leaned in, kissed her, then tossed the journal on her sheet-covered lap. “No. You are not the only one who cares. I’m just not accustomed to it being anyone other than me.”

“Okay.” She dropped her eyes and pulled the sheet up to discreetly dry her tears. “Let’s get started.”

She opened the binder to the last entry she’d read that morning. “We’ll just skim through these looking for anything that gives us a clue. For all we know, you could have been born at 12:01 in the morning.”

“What shall I do without you?” he whispered, kissing her again.

She swallowed more tears she was afraid he’d taste, and opened the book.

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