The Chosen Ones 03 - Chains of Ice by Christina Dodd

Author:Christina Dodd [Dodd, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789780451417
Amazon: 0451412915
Publisher: Signet Select
Published: 2007-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

On the table by John’s bed, Genny placed a bowl of soup wrapped in a towel, a cup of water, and a note. The note read,

Am going into town to shower and change. Be back as soon as I can.

Her hand hovered over his head, wanting to give him one farewell caress.

But she loved him. And she didn’t want to feel this way about him or any man. She pulled her hand back, and wished this love she felt could be as easily withdrawn. Trouble loomed between them, and it was a trouble of her own making.

Going to the cabinet, she looked again at the pile of letters sitting on top. They were from New York City, and the postmarks stretched back almost two years. The first ones, from the Gypsy Travel Agency, had been read, then stuffed back into their envelopes. Then came a series of unopened letters from the Gypsy Travel Agency. Finally, the latest envelope, still sealed, was from a name she recognized—Irving Shea, former CEO of the Agency and one of the men who had been adamant about removing her father from his position in the company.

Ever since, her father had cursed his name.

Yet he’d been willing to sell her services to Irving and the Gypsy Travel Agency. She had to wonder at his change of heart.

With her father, she always had to wonder at his motivations.

What had changed that now Irving himself approached John Powell? Was this because she hadn’t produced results in the time he had allotted?

Again she glanced at John, asleep on the bed.

He had an obligation to the Chosen Ones to finish his contract.

She had an obligation to the Gypsy Travel Agency to try to convince him it was the right thing to do.

Yet the unopened letters were a testament to how deeply he resented the commitment. And she had never seen reason to believe that love could overcome any difficulty. If anything, her parents had taught her that love could be withheld. Love could be wielded like a weapon. If Genny wasn’t careful, John Powell could hurt her as she had never been hurt before.

Opening the front door, she strode out into the crisp morning air—and stopped.

Under the tree, the lynx Lubochka called Nadja and John called Mama Cat sat waiting, her gaze fixed on the hut. Her eyes narrowed on Genny, demanding an accounting.

Genny sat down on the step.

The great cat strolled forward, smooth and graceful. Reaching Genny, she turned and sat beside her, and together they gazed across the panorama of forest and hills toward the Seven Devils.

“He’s okay,” Genny told her. “He was pretty sick. I guess you know that. But once he started releasing all that energy, he got better.” Once he’d started making love to her, he’d gotten magnificent . . . but Genny suspected the lynx knew that, too. “The scratches you gave him are almost healed”—Genny had never seen a recovery so miraculous—“although the scars will never disappear. No harm done, and John and I are both very sorry Brandon found your den.

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