Read Online Lunar Marked (Sky Brooks Series Book 4) by McKenzie Hunter - Free Book Online
Authors: McKenzie Hunter
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many shades of odd that this so-called simple dinner was. My attention quickly went to the art on the wall as I thought about how I could make this go as quickly as possible.
Sebastian’s smile blossomed, unfolding into something that was enchanting and charming, one of the more lethal and unassuming weapons in the arsenal the pack used. When necessary they were so charming that you were lured into a trap you’d be unlikely to escape. Being a were-animal didn’t make me immune. I returned the smile.
He was quite handsome, but it was his presence that was the most enthralling. His confidence and power were as refined and tailored to him as the clothes he wore. You couldn’t be meek and demure if you wanted to command the most powerful pack in the country. He wore it well, and people noticed. Flawless mocha skin, well-deep oval amber eyes, an imposing presence you never got used to. Instead, you remained acutely aware that he was a well-dressed, attractive predator.
The stock smile stayed on my face, my muscles fixed into a curve that simply displayed a pseudo pleasantry that I just didn’t feel. The situation was made no less strange when he ordered a bottle of wine and dinner: filet mignon, rare; roasted red potatoes and asparagus. Then he ordered the chocolate ganache and grinned at me when he asked the waiter to bring the dessert first.
I am a dessert first type of woman, and it seemed like everyone knew it.
“Who’s spreading these rumors about me?”
“Do you want me to change it?”
“No, I don’t want to be a bother.” I smiled.
We sipped on wine while I tried not to drink the whole bottle. It was a delightful white, crisp with a hint of peach that lingered on the palate. I didn’t bother finding out the name because based on the decorum of the place, I doubt I was willing to pay to taste it again.
I tried to focus on the woman standing in front of the piano, her expressive eyes closing occasionally as an emphasis to the soulfully intense sorrow that lingered over her words. Her crooning was a roller coaster of immense pleasure and intense pain and every emotion that existed in between. It was a soulful sound, with enough sorrow, seduction, and joy to tug at the emotions and entrance the spirit. She was a siren, enthralling the audience, forcing them to deny their hunger in search of something that fed them more intensely. Her voice, beyond her years, wailed a deep sultry melody over the crowd. If she was twenty-five, she was barely, but she seemed like she should have been born in a different era. She was dressed in a simple white shirt with cap lace sleeves and a long A-line skirt that clung to her body, moving as gently as she did during the song. Short layered dark bangs swept across her brow, held back by a small flower, drawing attention to thickly lined smoky eyes. Peach gloss accented her full lips. Her poise and mannerisms reminded me of a movie my mother loved, Lady Sings the Blues . I changed my mind several times about whether or not I would visit the place again. Maybe I would come for dessert or appetizers—which cost the equivalent of a meal at most restaurants. I would come back if only to hear her again.
“Beautiful isn’t it?” Sebastian pulled me from my trance.
“I don’t know if I would describe it as beautiful. Elegiac? Its peculiar combination of sorrow and happiness and all the variations in between.”
I watched him as he watched the songstress.
“You hear sorrow?” he asked, frowning. Then he directed his attention to me. “ Hmm , you hear sorrow where there is beauty.”
He considered me in silence for a long time.
A bottomless pit of deep browns with a hint of amber continued to assess me but they were quickly forgotten when the waiter brought the ganache. The rich, decadent flavors dominated my attention.
“Skylar, how are you?” Sebastian finally asked.
“I am eating chocolate pie; how do you think I am—I’m great!”
“It’s a
Sebastian’s smile blossomed, unfolding into something that was enchanting and charming, one of the more lethal and unassuming weapons in the arsenal the pack used. When necessary they were so charming that you were lured into a trap you’d be unlikely to escape. Being a were-animal didn’t make me immune. I returned the smile.
He was quite handsome, but it was his presence that was the most enthralling. His confidence and power were as refined and tailored to him as the clothes he wore. You couldn’t be meek and demure if you wanted to command the most powerful pack in the country. He wore it well, and people noticed. Flawless mocha skin, well-deep oval amber eyes, an imposing presence you never got used to. Instead, you remained acutely aware that he was a well-dressed, attractive predator.
The stock smile stayed on my face, my muscles fixed into a curve that simply displayed a pseudo pleasantry that I just didn’t feel. The situation was made no less strange when he ordered a bottle of wine and dinner: filet mignon, rare; roasted red potatoes and asparagus. Then he ordered the chocolate ganache and grinned at me when he asked the waiter to bring the dessert first.
I am a dessert first type of woman, and it seemed like everyone knew it.
“Who’s spreading these rumors about me?”
“Do you want me to change it?”
“No, I don’t want to be a bother.” I smiled.
We sipped on wine while I tried not to drink the whole bottle. It was a delightful white, crisp with a hint of peach that lingered on the palate. I didn’t bother finding out the name because based on the decorum of the place, I doubt I was willing to pay to taste it again.
I tried to focus on the woman standing in front of the piano, her expressive eyes closing occasionally as an emphasis to the soulfully intense sorrow that lingered over her words. Her crooning was a roller coaster of immense pleasure and intense pain and every emotion that existed in between. It was a soulful sound, with enough sorrow, seduction, and joy to tug at the emotions and entrance the spirit. She was a siren, enthralling the audience, forcing them to deny their hunger in search of something that fed them more intensely. Her voice, beyond her years, wailed a deep sultry melody over the crowd. If she was twenty-five, she was barely, but she seemed like she should have been born in a different era. She was dressed in a simple white shirt with cap lace sleeves and a long A-line skirt that clung to her body, moving as gently as she did during the song. Short layered dark bangs swept across her brow, held back by a small flower, drawing attention to thickly lined smoky eyes. Peach gloss accented her full lips. Her poise and mannerisms reminded me of a movie my mother loved, Lady Sings the Blues . I changed my mind several times about whether or not I would visit the place again. Maybe I would come for dessert or appetizers—which cost the equivalent of a meal at most restaurants. I would come back if only to hear her again.
“Beautiful isn’t it?” Sebastian pulled me from my trance.
“I don’t know if I would describe it as beautiful. Elegiac? Its peculiar combination of sorrow and happiness and all the variations in between.”
I watched him as he watched the songstress.
“You hear sorrow?” he asked, frowning. Then he directed his attention to me. “ Hmm , you hear sorrow where there is beauty.”
He considered me in silence for a long time.
A bottomless pit of deep browns with a hint of amber continued to assess me but they were quickly forgotten when the waiter brought the ganache. The rich, decadent flavors dominated my attention.
“Skylar, how are you?” Sebastian finally asked.
“I am eating chocolate pie; how do you think I am—I’m great!”
“It’s a
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