Read Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WesternWind 01 - Wynd River for Free Online Page B

welcome,” he explained.
    “You called her by her name. Do you know her?”
    He shook his head and took a sip of the hot brew. “I plucked it from her mind, wench, trying to make
    her more comfortable around me, but I think I made matters worse.”
    Aingeal shrugged. “People fear you, Cyn. You should be used to that.”
    “I am.”
    She studied him as he squinted against the waves of heat wafting up from his cup. His amber eyes were
    narrowed, half-hidden by the longest, darkest lashes she’d ever seen on a man. He was by the far the
    most handsome she’d ever encountered, with a rugged complexion that bespoke power and authority.
    The finely chiseled planes of his face with high cheekbones, a strong chin with just a suggestion of a cleft,
    lips that were sensually full, dark eyebrows with wicked peaks rising at the corners of his eyes, a straight,
    manly nose and ears that sat close to his thick dark brown hair gave him the appearance of a god
    stepped down from the heavens—and in a way, he was.
    “You have the strangest thoughts, wench,” he said, casting a glance to her before looking down into his
    coffee.
    “Stop reading them then,” she warned, and leaned back to pour them both another cup of coffee. The
    mouthwatering aroma of sizzling bacon and frying potatoes made her stomach growl and she giggled.
    “You don’t need to read my mind to know I’m famished.”
    He half-smiled at her. She had an uncanny way of bringing out the human side of him and that bothered
    him. It was his inhuman side that held sway most of the time and he liked it that way. The inhuman side
    kept his head firmly attached to his shoulders and evil walking a tightrope around him.
    “Where is home?” Aingeal asked.
    “A world in the Fuilghaoth Galaxy,” he said. “A long, long way from here.”
    “I don’t know any worlds beyond my own,” she said with a sigh. “What is its name?”
    “Peacúil.”
    Aingeal frowned. “That sounds sinister.”
    “It was a dark world, a place of deep shadows and rampaging evil.” He finished off his cup of coffee but
    shook his head at her offer to pour more.
    “How did you learn Gaelach?”
    “The Gaelach and I have a common ancestry,” he replied. “Long ago, another of my kind crash landed
    on this world. He taught the tribe the language all Reapers speak.”
    “He too came from Peacúil?”
    The Reaper shook his head. “He came from Rysalia, a world located in a distant galaxy from the one in
    which I was born.”
    Aingeal’s eyes showed her concern. “There are Reapers on a lot of other worlds?”
    He looked her in the eye. “Wench, Reapers are made, not born. Even a Reaper’s offspring must have a
    fledgling transmerged into him before he can have the full powers of his sire. The male child is born with a
    parasite but in order for him to have all the abilities his sire has, he must have a fledgling given to him
    when he reaches puberty.” He shrugged. “Otherwise, can you imagine what a mean little brat of a kid
    could do with Reaper powers if he didn’t like his nanny?”
    The waitress brought their food and quietly placed it before them. She stood with her head down,
    awaiting the pleasure of the man sitting beside Aingeal.
    “That will be all, Katy,” Cynyr said. “Thank you.”
    She bobbed him a curtsey and backed away.
    “Does it bother you that people fear you like that?” Aingeal asked as she ladled food onto their plates.
    He shrugged. “Not especially so. At least they leave me the hell alone.”
    Outside a rumble of thunder shook the building and Aingeal flinched. “Where did that come from?” she
    asked. “The sky didn’t have a cloud in it when we came in here.”
    “If you don’t like the weather on the plains, just wait a minute and it will change,” he told her.
    Wind pushed against the eatery’s windows for a moment then rain began pelting the roof overhang. It
    sounded as though it might be hailing.
    “I don’t like bad weather,”