Whispered Curses: A shy girl alpha male romance novel
Whispered Curses
By Haley Travis
Copyright 2020 Haley Travis. All rights reserved. Cover design by Lexie Renard.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted or duplicated in any form whatsoever without express written permission of the author. This book is intended for sale to adults only. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual people or specific locations or details is completely coincidental, or intended fictitiously. All characters are over 18, no sex partners are related, all sex is consensual. This is fantasy. In the real world, everyone practices safe sex at all times. Right? Right.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue ~ Eden ~ Nana’s Whispers
Chapter 1 ~ Eden ~ Time for Change
Chapter 2 ~ Eric ~ Tell Me
Chapter 3 ~ Eden ~ Morning Light
Chapter 4 ~ Eric ~ Brunch
Chapter 5 ~ Eden ~ Falling Water
Chapter 6 ~ Eric ~ Names & Numbers
Chapter 7 ~ Eden ~ What’s in a Name?
Chapter 8 ~ Eric ~ Desperation
Chapter 9 ~ Eden ~ Language
Chapter 10 ~ Eric ~ Superstitions
Chapter 11 ~ Eden ~ Business Meeting
Chapter 12 ~ Eric ~ Dark Gray Suit
Chapter 13 ~ Eden ~ Just Business
Chapter 14 ~ Eric ~ Building
Chapter 15 ~ Eden ~ The Office
Chapter 16 ~ Eric ~ Big Desk
Chapter 17 ~ Eden ~ Eden’s
Chapter 18 ~ Eric ~ Goodnight
Chapter 19 ~ Eden ~ Flight
Chapter 20 ~ Eric ~ Breakfast
Chapter 21 ~ Eden ~ Long White Hallways
Chapter 22 ~ Eric ~ Green Space
Chapter 23 ~ Eden ~ Nana
Chapter 24 ~ Eric ~ Tea Time
Chapter 25 ~ Eden ~ Gambling
Chapter 26 ~ Eric ~ Quiet Dinner
Chapter 27 ~ Eden ~ Bed with the Devil
Chapter 28 ~ Eric ~ Morning Business Meeting
Epilogue ~ Eden ~ What’s in a Name, Again
Other Stories and About the Author
~ Prologue ~ Eden ~
* Nana’s Whispers *
We’d always just called it The Knowing. It sounded quite mysterious. Well, it was. Nobody in my family was particularly superstitious. I mean, not walking under ladders isn’t to avoid bad luck, that’s a basic safety tip. And nobody wants to break a mirror – you’d be pulling bits of glass out of the carpet for years.
Yet there was something different when Nana made a proclamation. We would be in the middle of a regular conversation, gathered around the kitchen table. She’d be sipping some strange tea that she had mail-ordered directly from the factory. Apparently, Canadian teas didn’t understand true balance, or some complicated British fussiness.
Nana would stare into her teacup, swirling it gently. Her head would cock slightly forward, and to the left. Then she would stare up at the ceiling as the room got quiet. We knew that whatever she was about to say next would be important, and someone would grab the grocery list notepad from the fridge to jot it down.
When Mom was looking for a smaller house after Dad died five years ago, Nana had interrupted our discussion of the importance of a flower garden. Staring up at the ceiling, she had whispered, “Your neighborhood is your garden. Live well, and make it grow.”
Mom had been looking in the Junction, and the distant edges of Parkdale trying to find an affordable house. But with this new direction, she found the perfect little bungalow in Woodbine Gardens. It had been underpriced because the decor was so violently hideous. Two weeks of ripping out seventies wallpaper and painting everything in light, soft tones made the house absolutely perfect. The woodwork was still crazily outdated, but Mom liked it.
A few years later, my sister Eva was telling us all about some fancy arts event that her friend was throwing the next Saturday night. She was volunteering to work the door. She was rather excited that she got to dress up like a princess, and welcome people to the ballroom. It sounded adorably kitschy.
Then we all held our breath when we noticed Nana was staring into her teacup. When she glanced up at the ceiling, she whispered, “Rain is plain and snow will blow, but never drive in the freezing rain.”
Sure enough, when Eva was coming back from the party at two in the morning after helping to clean up the event, there was half an hour of freezing rain. Instead of waiting for it to pass, she jumped into a taxi.
The accident wasn’t too bad, relatively speaking, and she walked away with slight whiplash and a broken wrist. Still, had she heeded Nana’s whispers, and just waited half an hour, that wouldn’t have happened.
Although Nana had never said anything directly to me, I knew that it would be coming someday. Sometimes her warnings were a bit abstract, such as, “A little of this bologna. No, no no, that’s wrong.”
Two days later the news was filled with product recalls from a packaged sandwich meat company. Coincidence? We didn’t know. Even though we didn’t quite believe that she had some sort of gift, or second sight, we all silently agreed that it was better to just do as Nana said.
About six months ago, when I was reeling from a recent devastating breakup, I went to have tea with Nana. She lived in Vancouver now, but was visiting my mother in Toronto for a few weeks.
Nana shared the stories of her love life before she met grandpa. Stories of her lousy, screaming drunk of a first husband. Back in the fifties, women didn’t often pick up their baby and move away from their husband. Nana always had a mind of her own.
“How did you know he wasn’t going to come after you?” I had asked.
She rolled her eyes at me, sipping her tea. Then she shrugged. “He was always wildly drunk, and he drove a motorcycle. I knew it was just a matter of time.”
Sure enough, her first husband wrapped himself around a tree, and Nana met a dashing young military man a year later at a legion hall dance.
They had moved to Canada and started a wonderful new life together. Somehow, hearing the tale of her life again had grounded me. There was always hope. There was always a way to find love.
I was actually smiling to myself when I realized that Nana had grown quiet. She stared down at her tea, swirling it gently as her head fell to the side. Then she stared up at the ceiling.
I could barely make out her whisper, “Never get in bed with the devil. He lives for darkness and fire.”
~ Chapter 1 ~ Eden ~
* Time for Change *
They say time heals all wounds. That’s not always true.
But tequila helps. A lot.
There is some mathematical formula about how many months it takes a broken heart to heal, according to how many months you were together. It likely didn’t take into account if it was your first crack at love, and how you broke up.
Or the fact that there were distinct rumors he had a sugar baby, or some sort of floozy on the side. Not the sort of thing anyone wants to find out the week after a lousy breakup. Perhaps it was the cherry on top of the messed up sundae I’d be telling a therapist about years down the road.
I wasn’t ready for many things yet. Bars, drinking, loud people, and Kelly dragging me onto the dance floor after a few shots of tequila. I knew it had been six months, but I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready to look at guys again.
We’d gotten ready at Kelly’s place, and she practically forced me to wear one of her saucy party dresses. “Show off those amazi
ng legs,” she laughed, fluffing my hair. “Let some men check you out.”
“You know I’m not ready for this,” I grumbled. But I couldn’t resist doing a twirl in front of the mirror. This bright cherry red really did look incredible on me, making my hair look more auburn than brown.
“You don’t have to talk to any of them,” Kelly laughed, hustling me downstairs and into a cab. “Just ogle them. They’re nothing but eye candy tonight.”
Sometimes it was great having a friend who took charge, even when she was pushy. Kelly’s forthright attitude was encouraging, and usually what I needed.
My perpetually effervescent best friend might have had a point. Men stare at women all the time, with no intention except to admire them and have a little thrill. Was there any reason why I didn't deserve a mental boost?
Her pushiness continued when we arrived at the club, slipping bills to the doorman so that we could skip the line and head straight to the bar. Before I had a chance to think, there were two tequila shots in front of me. Kelly knew my favorite dancing drink well.
“As your party director tonight, I demand that you chug those, then stare at men.”
I’d always been the shy one. The girl with her nose in books, where the people were quiet and dependable. The girl who thought things through for days before considering making a move. The girl who wanted things to be planned, and expected. Just this once, I was going to obey, and go with the flow. The worst thing that could happen was that I flirted a little. That wouldn’t break me.
We clinked glasses, then did the two shots. At once. On an empty stomach. I already felt it hitting me as my hand was grabbed and my scantily clad body was hurled onto the dance floor.
Song after horrible song blasted at us. But as we laughed and danced around, it felt like entering an alternate dimension. It was silly. Wonderful. Completely freeing.
Kelly and I twirled under the flashing lights, while I tried to take a good look at the men around me. One guy in a dark blue shirt had incredible cheekbones. His jawline looked like it had been sculpted by a portrait artist. He was gorgeous to stare at, and probably would have made a small fortune modeling.
Smiling to myself, I was just happy that I could see the beauty in a man without the heartache for once.
Spinning the other way, I saw Kelly doing a little bump and grind with a bearded guy who was obviously instantly smitten with her. He was an absolute hunk, but I also saw the way he was gentle with her, taking her hand to give her a spin.
Kelly and I had a long-standing agreement that we did not drink to the point of being helpless. If either of us picked up and disappeared, we would send a text to say that we were safe. From the way she was snuggling into that guy's arms right there on the dance floor, I could already tell I would be getting one of those texts later tonight.
The club was so packed that it didn't matter that I was dancing with myself now. A song I actually knew came on, even though it was the strange thumping dance heavy remix.
My arms shot into the air, my hips swiveled, and I let myself go. I found myself smiling, and making tiny patterns with my hips. For the first time in ages, I became lost in the physical sensation of fun. I probably looked drunk, even though I‘d only had two. But sometimes my favorite drink made me high more than tipsy.
Just when I was thinking another shot of tequila might be in order, I felt a prickle behind me, as if someone was staring. I spun around, stumbling in my heels. Strong hands gripped my waist, as I looked up into the most mysteriously dark, sexy eyes I'd ever seen.
He smiled, then held his hands up in front of him as if to say that he was sorry for grabbing me.
I mouthed the word, "Thanks,” then took a careful look at this guy. He was utterly gorgeous. Tall, and quite broad through the shoulders. His black button-down shirt was a bit snug across his obviously muscular chest. Something about him almost seemed otherworldly. Those deep eyes were already pulling me in.
He cocked his head, obviously checking me out as well. Then he nodded, giving me an incredible grin. Holding out his hand, I took it automatically. Pulling me in, he clasped my hand, lifting it up while holding me tightly around the waist with his other arm. Nobody gave us a second look as we began slow dancing.
His deep voice purred in my ear, “I was dragged here for my friend’s birthday, and now I think I need to get him a better gift to thank him.” His hand pressed against my lower back. “I love being in the right place at the right time, don’t you?”
Looking up at him, the red lights reflected in his eyes, making his grin extra naughty. Dropping my hand, his fingers tangled into the back of my hair. My hands circled his huge shoulders, feeling his heat right through his shirt.
He was hot. Wildly, wickedly hot. And he was looking at me as if he wanted to eat me alive.
Time seemed to slow down. A choice floated before me. I could be the timid, shy girl I always was. I could blush, and run away. I could dream about the amazing hot hunk who seemed to like me.
Or I could take him. Stretching up, I brought my lips near his, signaling precisely what I wanted. His eyes blazed, then his mouth barely brushed against mine. I moved with him, gliding my lips against his in a feather-light tease. We both shuddered, and he held me tighter.
“You’re delicious,” he murmured against my lips.
“You should taste me when I’ve been drinking blue beaches,” I giggled. “My tongue would be blue but I’d taste like sugar.”
“What are you drinking tonight?”
“Tequila.” Then I hiccuped twice.
He laughed, slipping an arm around me to whisper in my ear, “You know, they say that’s the devil’s drink. Let’s get you some water.” He led us to the end of the bar that had a water pitcher, and poured for me.
Although I didn’t require babysitting, it was sweet that he wanted to take care of me. After a half glass of water, and managing to only splash a tiny bit on the front of my rather low cut dress, the hiccups stopped.
I saw his eyes tracking my lips. “What?” I asked. “Did I smudge my lip gloss?” How was I able to speak with him so normally? I was always so timid around men. Oh right, the booze. Tequila is a chatty drink.
Lifting his hand, he cupped my face while running his thumb along my bottom lip. His mouth came closer, as my eyes riveted to those perfect, full lips. Then he swerved to my ear again to breathe, “It’s causing me physical pain to not really kiss you hard right now.”
Wrapping my arm around his back, I press my body against his. My other hand began to wander across his chest, the front of his shoulders. Good grief, he must work out a lot. Or work construction or something. The layers of muscle simply added to his insanely attractive physique.
Looking up into those hypnotic dark eyes, I asked, “Why on earth would a guy as gorgeous as you want to kiss someone like me?”
In my tipsy haze, it was a perfectly reasonable question. But he looked at me like I was nuts.
“Beautiful, I couldn’t think of a single man in this entire place that wouldn’t want you.” He paused. “Okay, I did see two guys dancing close together in the corner. You might not be their type. Ninety-nine percent of the guys at this club would gladly switch places with me.”
Stretching up, I tipped my chin so that our mouths were only an inch apart. “Maybe you should kiss me then, instead of holding yourself back.” I blinked hard, not believing I’d just said that.
His gaze filled with hunger as he stared from my eyes to my lips. “You luscious little temptress,” he smiled. “I know that I’m a bad man, but I can’t take advantage of a drunk girl.”
I raised a finger to tweak his nose. “For the record, I am not drunk. Very slightly tipsy.”
He pulled me tighter, as we began to sway again to the terrible music. “It sounds like you would rather I were a bad man than a good man.”
“Actually,” I said, trying desperately to sound logical, “It would make you a very good man. I am pretty sure that a hard kiss from you
would be healing. Therapeutic.”
His thick eyebrow raised in a smirk. “How so?”
“The last man who kissed me was bad. Very, very bad. Evil, actually. So, you’d be helping to burn him out of my mind. That’s healthy. Right?”
“Mmm, intriguing,” he purred into my ear. Then the tip of his tongue tapped the edge of my earlobe and a deep, hot tremor ran through me. “Tell me, as your new therapist, I need to know how long it’s been.”
“Six months,” I confessed.
“No...” he drawled, staring at me as if I were a buffet and he was starving. Nobody had ever looked at me like that, and it was disturbing how much I enjoyed it. “You could not have been single for six whole months. The vultures would have swooped in.”
I shook my head, then immediately wished that I hadn’t, since a few things were a tiny bit fuzzy around the edges. “No swooping. There has been no swooping at all.”
His hand began stroking my lower back in firm circles as he held me. “Poor little kitten. Have you been lonely?” I nodded carefully.