Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Lights from the traffic outside could be seen through the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating ribbons of white and crimson across the polished hardwood floors before disappearing into the rainy night. The sound of rain tapping against the glass was softened by the smooth R&B music floating effortlessly through the space. A local cover band had just begun their rendition of Sade’s “Sweetest Taboo,” the lead singer’s sultry voice blending seamlessly with the clinking of glasses, laughter, and quiet conversations scattered throughout the bar.
The music was good.
The whiskey was better.
After spending the last three days at a romance authors’ conference, surrounded by bestselling authors, aspiring writers, editors, and publishers, this little rooftop bar tucked a few blocks from my hotel was exactly what I needed. Somewhere far enough away from the conference that no one would recognize me. No discussions about deadlines. No debates over character arcs. No one asking my opinion about whether the hero’s grovel was strong enough.
Just me.
A manuscript.
And a double whiskey.
I snapped the manuscript shut, signaling the close of another novel I’d spent the better part of the evening editing.
Another alpha.
Another soulmate.
Another morally gray man willing to burn the world down for the woman he loved.
A small smile tugged at my lips.
If I had a dollar for every possessive mafia boss, tortured billionaire, dragon shifter, vampire king, or werewolf convinced he’d finally found his fated mate, I’d probably own my own publishing house by now.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
I spent my days editing love stories.
I spent my nights escaping into them.
Dark romance had always been my weakness.
The darker the hero, the better.
Give me the damaged man with an impossible past. The one convinced he wasn’t worthy of love until one woman changed everything. Give me the mafia boss willing to burn cities to the ground for his wife. Give me the alpha who could recognize his mate with one breath. Give me the man the entire world feared, except the woman he loved.
Ridiculous?
Absolutely.
Realistic?
Probably not.
Still…
There was something comforting about the certainty those stories promised.
One love.
One person.
One soul recognizing another.
Maybe that’s why readers couldn’t get enough of them.
Maybe that’s why I couldn’t either.
Somewhere between the hundreds of manuscripts I’d edited over the years and the countless happily-ever-afters I’d helped shape, I’d started asking myself the same question every editor secretly asked but never admitted out loud.
What if soulmates really existed?
And if they did…
What happened if you lost yours?
The thought came quietly.
Uninvited.
Cash.
I immediately reached for my whiskey, letting the familiar burn settle in my chest.
“No,” I whispered to myself.
“We’re not doing that tonight.”
I refused to give life to memories that had no business taking up space in my present.
I’d lost count of how many manuscripts I’d reviewed this year alone, and it was only early spring.
The cold marble beneath my fingertips offered a welcome contrast to the warmth spreading through my body as the last of my double whiskey slid effortlessly down my throat. Before the empty glass had completely settled against the bar, my hand instinctively shot up.
Another.
The tall, slender bartender tipped his head in acknowledgment before continuing to serve the couple seated a few stools away.
While I waited, my attention drifted to them.
They leaned into one another as though the rest of the room had disappeared. Smiling. Whispering. Existing inside a world built only for two.
Just watching them made me think about the stories I edited every day.
The werewolf.
The fated mate.
The unbreakable bond.
Destined for one another.
Unable to hurt each other.
Fiercely protective.
Guaranteed to love each other for the rest of their lives.
I wondered…
Outside the pages of a fantasy novel, could that kind of love really exist?
And if it did…
Did it only happen once?
A little buzzed, but nowhere near drunk, I made my way through the crowded maze of tables toward the exit. The conversations, laughter, and music faded with every step until all that remained were the muffled sounds of the city waiting outside.
The rain had stopped.
Its aftermath hadn’t.
The pavement glistened beneath the glow of the valet lights, reflecting streaks of white and red from the passing traffic. The cool night air kissed my skin as I stood beneath the covered entrance, digging through my oversized purse in search of the valet ticket I knew I’d carelessly tossed inside.
Receipts.
Lip gloss.
A half-used pack of gum.
Business cards from the conference.
Everything except the one thing I was looking for.
Then…
It hit me.
Pine.
Fresh cedar.
Warm.
Masculine.
Unique.
Familiar.
My fingers froze.
Every muscle in my body locked in place as the scent wrapped around me, slipping into my lungs like it had every right to be there. Years of carefully packed-away memories threatened to surface all at once. The pleasant buzz from the whiskey instantly became irrelevant.
That scent.
It belonged to one man.
Not a conclusion.
A person.
My person…
Well…
He used to be.
I slowly closed my eyes, taking one deep breath before releasing it just as slowly, silently cursing myself for allowing one familiar scent to have this much power over me after all these years.
At that exact moment, my fingertips brushed against the missing valet ticket.
“There you are,” I whispered.
The speed at which I pulled it from my purse and handed it to the valet should’ve been enough to tell anyone watching that I was ready to leave.
Then I heard it.
“Cynthia Santee.”
A shiver raced the length of my spine.
Instantly.
Violently.
My body reacted before my mind ever had the chance.
I would’ve blamed it on the cool night air if he happened to notice.
Hell…
I would’ve blamed it on anything.
I took my time turning around.
Partly because I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him.
Mostly because I wasn’t sure I was ready to.
For one ridiculous second, I wished the concrete beneath my feet would open up and swallow me whole.
But the universe had never been in the business of doing favors.
So, with all the courage I could gather, I turned to face the man who had once held my heart… and then shattered it.
“Cashmere James.”
I forced a small smile.
“It’s been a while.”
Our eyes met.
The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding escaped my lungs all at once.
His eyes were exactly as I remembered.
The lightest shade of brown I’d ever seen, almost honey-colored beneath the valet lights, standing out against smooth, dark chocolate skin that looked as flawless as if time itself had refused to touch him.
His beard was neatly shaped, connecting effortlessly to a perfectly groomed mustache. Jet black. Clean. Sharp.
Older.
More mature.
Somehow…
Even more handsome than I remembered.
My eyes betrayed me, slowly tracing the familiar lines of his face before settling on his lips.
Those lips.
My traitorous mind chose that exact moment to replay memories I’d spent years trying to bury.
His mouth on my neck.
His lips trailing slow kisses across my skin.
The way his hand always found the back of my neck, holding me there like he never wanted to let me go.
A soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.
I blinked.
Pulled myself back to the present.
Cash hadn’t moved.
He was still watching me.
His eyes slowly drifted downward.
My left hand.
The oversized diamond on my ring finger caught the valet lights for only a second.
His gaze lingered just long enough for me to notice.
Then, without a word, he looked back into my eyes.
Nothing in his expression changed.
“I miss you.”
The words were quiet.
Honest.
Dangerously so.
He took two slow steps closer.
Close enough that cedar and pine surrounded me once again.
Another chill swept across my body.
This one…
He noticed.
I saw it in the slight tilt of his head.
The subtle lift of one eyebrow.
He noticed the way my body still recognized him.
Recognized his nearness.
Recognized him.
I hated that.
No…
I hated that after all these years, his presence still had the power to make everything else disappear.
The scent.
The memories.
The whiskey.
All of it blended into the perfect recipe for making one bad decision after another.
I needed to leave.
Now.
The sound of tires rolling to a stop on the wet pavement pulled me from the trance.
My valet.
Thank God.
“I hope the feeling continues,” I said over my shoulder, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he still affected me.
The valet held my driver’s door open.
I slid into the driver’s seat before I lost my nerve.
The door closed.
Silence.
Only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath.
I exhaled slowly and rested both hands on the steering wheel.
Without thinking, my thumb found the large diamond on my ring finger.
I twisted it once.
Then again.
A nervous habit I’d never been able to break.
I looked up.
Cash was still standing exactly where I’d left him.
Hands tucked into the pockets of his dark slacks.
Watching me.
Not waving.
Not smiling.
Just…
Watching.
Then one corner of his mouth lifted.
“Still running, huh?”
I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.
Not because he was wrong.
Because after all these years…
He still knew exactly which nerve to touch.
I started the engine and eased away from the curb.
As the bar disappeared into my rearview mirror, I made myself one promise.
Never come back to this place again.
