The Nymph's Curse: The Collection (74 page)

“No, Chance. I can’t go back.” She grabbed hold of the door handle like she was holding on in an effort not to lose control of her feelings. “I can’t go back to being alone … or being without you.”

Chance gave her a sexy, unbridled smile. “Are you sure? Are you really willing to give up your work?”

Harper answered with a slow nod. “I want you to make me one promise. Starling needs to stay in Worley. She only has six months left of school. She can stay here with me until she gets done. She needs to get help before she has to face the world alone. She needs to be surrounded by love. Okay?”

“That’s fine, but I want …
us
too,” Chance said. “I’ll stay here with you and Starling … hell, I’ll even let Kodie stay if he wants. We can have our own family. And I can give up poker — I’ll figure out something to make Blackwater happy — I’ll give him his money back … whatever it takes. But if you want, I’ll stop so we can all be together.”

“Chance, you and I both know you wouldn’t be happy if you stopped playing poker. It’s what makes you happy — it’s your passion. I don’t ever want you to regret your decision in giving it up to be with me. Regret turns into resentment and I won’t let you do that to yourself. I love you too much to ask you to change. When it’s time to go to Vegas, I’ll go with you. Maybe I can find another job if I want … I have a feeling Shaw is going to be hiring.”

“Did you say you love me?” He smiled his irresistible million-dollar smile.

Butterflies rose in her belly. “I do. I love you — ”

“I love you, too. You stole my heart the second you tripped over the barstool.” The heaviness that had seemed to weigh upon his shoulders lifted and he leaned toward her. His lips met hers.

She couldn’t say no. Not to his kiss, not to his love, and least of all to a new life. The life she had been waiting to start.

“Be with me … for the rest of time,” Chance said in between kisses.

“Yes, Chance … Yes … ”

A ray of sunshine burst into the pickup, warming the space with its welcomed brightness. For so long she had been a lonely swan, trapped in the darkness of the winter in her heart. Her only solace had been her work and the security that came with the rhythmic passage of time. No longer. No longer could she be a winter swan. The love for Chance and his young daughter had brought an unexpected spring to her life. More than spring, she had found the things she needed above all else — she’d found love and a family.

The door to Harper sister’s house slammed shut behind Starling, catching her off-guard and she stumbled into the small table. A set of keys tumbled to the ground. The house was in disarray, boxes were strewn across the floor, their contents spilling out like poorly kept secrets.

Starling bent down and picked up the ring of mismatched keys — next to them was a little, broken porcelain doll, its painted on smile still intact. A brass key slipped to the front of the ring, catching Starling’s attention. On the key’s little brass surface was engraved the words: “Do not duplicate. First National Bank, Savannah, GA.”

Her mother had once owned a key that had looked like this little brass one. Carey had once said it belonged to a safe deposit box.

Standing up, she was just about to drop the keys back onto the table next to a crystal swan when she spotted a jumbled stack of letters. On the top of the pile sat an unopened envelope. At the top left corner, in the sender location, it read
First National Bank … Savannah, Georgia …

Open it
… . A ghostly voice echoed through her, drawing chills to her skin. She hated when
they
spoke to her. Writing was so much easier. When she had been on full doses of GX 149 the voices had been quiet, but now she was rationing the supply and the voices had returned, stronger than ever.

Open it
… .

No …
She thought.
Quit talking to me. You’re not welcome.

Open it … .

They wouldn’t stop. Not spirits. Not when they had come to her.

Carefully, as to not draw Kodie’s attention as he made his way to the empty prehistoric kitchen, she tore the edge of the envelope and opened the letter.

She started to read.

It didn’t make any sense. Why would a spirit want her to read the letter? It was just another bank letter.

Find the books in the box … Find the books and find answers …

Why?
She thought, sending her question to the spirit.

There was no answer.

She had no right to take Jenna’s or Harper’s property, but as she questioned her actions a cold spread through her, the sign of a ghost manifestation. The spirit pressed its icy fingers around her warm hand and gave it a slight push
,
urging her to take the letter.

Kodie whistled away in the kitchen, blissfully unaware of her inner turmoil. She had to trust the spirit. There was a reason it wanted her to act. Starling slipped the keys into her purse. Harper had tried to help her and she had promised to continue trying to isolate the chemicals in the GX 149, but Starling had never been the kind to hold out hope to be saved by another. She was her own woman. She couldn’t
wait
to be rescued.

Danica Winters is a bestselling author who is known for writing award-winning books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and often a touch of magic. When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana testing her patience while she tries to understand the allure of various crafts (quilting, pottery, and painting are not her thing). She always believes the cup is neither half full nor half empty, but it better be filled with wine.

Please feel free to contact her through her website:
www.DanicaWinters.net

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www.Facebook.com/DanicaWinters

Twitter:
www.Twitter.com/DanicaWinters

Avon, Massachusetts

Copyright © 2014 by Danica Winters.
All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

Published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

www.crimsonromance.com

ISBN 10: 1-4405-7971-7

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7971-4

eISBN 10: 1-4405-7972-5

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7972-1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Cover art © 123RF/dndavis and iStockphoto.com/Coffee&Milk

To Carlene and Bingo.

Thank you for all of your love, support, and laughter.

There are many people who have worked to make this book and this series possible.

First and most importantly, thank you to my fans. Your love of my books is what keeps me writing. There is no greater feeling than meeting a reader who has enjoyed something that I have had the special role of creating.

Special thanks to the Crimson Romance staff: Julie Sturgeon, Tara Gelsomino, and Jess Verdi, and to my agent, Amanda Luedeke. I appreciate all of your hard work and passionate dedication to the craft of writing.

Acknowledgements couldn’t be complete without thanking the man in my life, Herb. Thank you for always listening and helping to be my “idea man.”

1. Title Page
   
2. Copyright Page
   
3. Dedication
   
4. Acknowledgments
   
5. Chapter One
   
6. Chapter Two
   
7. Chapter Three
   
8. Chapter Four
   
9. Chapter Five
   
10. Chapter Six
    
11. Chapter Seven
    
12. Chapter Eight
    
13. Chapter Nine
    
14. Chapter Ten
    
15. Chapter Eleven
    
16. Chapter Twelve
    
17. Chapter Thirteen
    
18. Chapter Fourteen
    
19. Chapter Fifteen
    
20. Chapter Sixteen
    
21. Chapter Seventeen
    
22. Chapter Eighteen
    
23. Chapter Nineteen
    
24. Chapter Twenty
    
25. Chapter Twenty-One
    
26. Chapter Twenty-Two
    
27. About the Author
    

It was a strange feeling to know that she was probably going to die and to not really care. The last year of Starling Jackson’s life had been filled with ghosts, lies, her mother’s murder, and the death of an enemy—a death fraught with dangerous threats. Finally, the time had come to make her stand against her world and the ghosts and enemies who inhabited it, even if that stand cost her the only thing she had left to give: her life.

She walked through the Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport and to the baggage claim area where a cluster of people moved in a precarious dance of personalities, the boldest of which pushed to the front of the group while the rest escaped to the far recesses of the room. Starling stood in the middle, pushed back by those struggling for a place at the front and nudged forward to stand as a barrier from the melee by those who hated the entire situation.

Don’t let them push you. You are stronger than this … take control,
the familiar voice of the ghost Asclepius echoed in her mind.

“Oh, I’ll take control.” Reaching into her bag, Starling took out her pills and swallowed down a tablet. That made six. Or was it seven pills today? Regardless, it was a new record. There was no doubt the medicine was losing its effect in keeping the spirits at bay. If she didn’t find the
Libros Umbrarum
books soon, there wouldn’t be any break from the endless whispers and threats of the ghosts that invaded her reality.

I’ll be back … You will have to listen to me soon enough …
Asclepius quieted.

“Not if I have my way.” She dropped the bottle back into her bag.

The stainless steel belt that carried the luggage whirred to life, making the fickle, but telling, dance intensify. Bags poured out into the center of the terminal, forcing some of the meek travelers to come forward and try to grab theirs before the suitcase disappeared into the abyssal baggage carrier’s area. Starling’s black bag, identified by the red and white ribbons tied to the handle, made an appearance.

She moved forward, readying herself to catch the bag the moment it passed her way. It moved closer. But before she could grasp the handle, a man stepped forward and lifted it off the conveyor. His long, dark hair touched his collar, leaving an oily residue on his white shirt.

“Excuse me!” she called, trying to struggle through the crowd fast enough to see the face of the man who had stolen her luggage.

The man didn’t turn. Either he was oblivious to the fact she called out to him, or he was trying to get away before she had the chance to cause a scene that would get the airport security’s attention.

“Hey you!” she called, people turned and looked at her like she had lost her mind. Normally their glances would have shut her up, but this time, with so much hanging in the balance, she couldn’t afford to let their disapproval staunch her attempt.

The ribbons on her suitcase swayed merrily as if waving goodbye, but their subtle action only made her struggle harder.