Read Return to Me (Storm Lords) for Free Online Page A

up at Cade, in his smooth business suit, and handed him the leash with a grin.
    Cade looked at Torr, his eyes narrowing. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
    “I never joke,” he replied.
    Cade sighed but took the lead gingerly. “Okay. But you owe me.”
    “And Cade,” Torr said, “we need a meeting this afternoon. Call the others in.”
    “Trouble?”
    Torr glanced at Bella; she was making no attempt to hide that she was listening avidly. But he wouldn’t keep secrets from her. Not ones he was allowed to tell anyway.
    “We may have. I’m going to see what I can find out.”
    “Okay. I’ll send out a call. Finn is here, but the rest could be anywhere.” Cade turned to go.
    “Look after Skip,” Bella called out, but the dog seemed quite happy trotting along with Cade. “He seems to like him more than you,” Bella said as the door closed.
    “I have a dog. He can probably smell him on me.”
    “You do?”
    He didn’t mention that the dog was actually a hellhound. A present from Lilith, but he didn’t hold that against the animal.
    “So does this problem have anything to do with me?” Bella asked.
    “No. It’s tied in with my partners.”
    “Partners?”
    “There are seven of us who own the company.” He waved a hand at the sofa. “Now, we need to talk.”
    Torr had thought hard about what he should tell her. The truth—that they’d been lovers in a past life—was obviously out of the question, but he needed a way to get through to her. And quickly.
    Somehow, she’d built a solid wall around her empath abilities, blocking them out. Having seen the file on her, he could understand why. Her mother had been a monster, and her life on the streets must have been hard, but he still needed to smash through that wall. Her past had made her afraid to love, but if she could see into his mind, she would know how he felt, know his feelings were genuine, and maybe allow herself to feel again.
    ***
    Bella kicked off her trainers and sat on the sofa cross-legged. “So what’s the job?”
    His smooth, suave, sophisticated appearance was becoming unraveled. Midnight black hair hung loose to his shoulders, and every time he ran his hands through it, Bella’s fingers itched with the need to know how it would feel. She sat on her hands, in case they reached out when she wasn’t paying attention.
    He should have looked scary, with those yellow eyes and that scar, but she didn’t feel scared. Maybe it was the champagne.
    Torr crossed the room and poured himself a scotch. He held the bottle up to her, but she shook her head. “It’s not even eight in the morning.” She wasn’t used to alcohol and perhaps now was not the time to experiment with its effects. He came back; but instead of resuming his seat opposite from her, he sat down on the sofa beside her, put his glass on the coffee table, and leaned back with a sigh, his long lashes flickering closed.
    Bella shifted in her seat. He was having the strangest effect on her. She wasn’t used to men having any effect, and she tried to analyze the feelings as she studied him from the corner of her eye. He’d lost his suit jacket somewhere along the way, and his white silk shirt was stretched taut across his broad chest. Through it, she could see the faint shadow of dark hair. The shirt was open at the throat and her eyes were persistently drawn to the triangle of skin revealed. Her gaze drifted lower to where the shirt was tucked into the waistband of his black pants. His belly was flat, hips narrow, legs long. She tried not to stare at the bulge of his groin, but her eyes kept flicking back. Finally, she forced herself to look away and out the window.
    Her fingers drummed on the arm of the sofa. She wished he’d get on with it. Whatever ‘it’ was. Give her something else to think about. She tried to be patient. Her attempt lasted around thirty seconds. “Well? What’s the con?”
    He opened his eyes; they were sleepy, heavy-lidded. Turning his