Storm Reawakened

Meet The Rival

Oh hell nah.

If this two-faced stunning jerk thinks I'm going to give up all hope of running away to live a drama-free life, then he has another thing coming to him!

With new found determination, I quickly dress in a spare gown that's been delivered and head down a narrow stairwell to the bustle of tavern occupants who are all up for breakfast.

Hawthorne who waited outside the door now follows closely behind, remaining quiet. The sensible thing to do because if he so much as forms a word, I'll claw his beautiful eyes out.

I find an empty table and plop right down, my head and my stomach begging for carbs.

A few of the other diners give us suspicious recognition, their loud chatter falling into hushed murmurs but I pay them no mind—I'm getting used to that too. The stares. Evara is attractive and not even this simple dress can hide her birth right.

"What can I get for the Madam and Master?" came a friendly patron, her apron lined with spilt coffee and residue from whatever the kitchen has to offer.

"I'd like whatever they're having," I said, pointing at the heaping plate of eggs, hashed potatoes, and sausages served with fresh bread in front of an enormous man fitted in armour and his companion dressed in a robe and pointy hat...oh my gosh. A wizard? There are Potters here?

"Are you sure, Miss?" she asked doubtfully, quickly scanning my frame.

"Yes, absolutely positive." It's the surest I've been since waking up in this world.

Hawthorne looks amused and orders the same. While coffee is being poured for both of us, I take a moment to observe him and note two things. I don't fully trust him, yet I don't feel entirely uncomfortable around him. I know I'm stuck in a fantasy world, but if it turns out that I've been lying in bed next to a killer then I'll willingly jump into the ocean and won't give it a second thought.

And yet. Something tells me that even if he's two-faced and wearing a disguise, he isn't a threat to me—to Evara. If he really wanted her out of the way in a cold, ruthless manner, then he should have killed her early on. Why wait for her to act the part of a preying villain and create terrible rumours?

Hawthorne senses my eyes on him and looks up from his cup to tilt his head to one side, flipping the tables to observe me now. "Whatever are you thinking, Evara?"

"Please tell me, Duke. Did I sleep with you?"

"We woke up in the same bed, what do you think?" he returned mildly.

Narrowing my gaze, I take a tremendous sip of coffee for courage. "Don't patronise me."

"What do you want to think?"

"The truth. I want the truth."

"Even if I tell you, I didn't lay a hand on you and you mumbled about a man named McDonalds in your sleep?"

"Oh, thank god!" I exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

I knew I couldn't have slept with him and not remember a thing. And even if my suspicions of him are slowly crumbling, that doesn't mean I won't run the first chance I get.

"You seem awfully pleased by that," he murmured.

Rolling my eyes, I give him my best haughty look. "Oh please, not every woman wants to go to bed with you."

He says nothing but gives me a doubtful glance since that obviously seems rich coming out of Evara's mouth. "It's like I keep telling everyone. I've changed, and having a close encounter with death has made me realise the fault in my ways. Including my taste in men." I finish my speech by punctuating the last bits with some venom.

Hawthorne's face becomes sullen as I give him my most radiant smile and finish my cup of coffee with glee. Breakfast arrives shortly after and we eat in silence, but we're interrupted by a man with sparkling orange eyes and short silver hair.

"Evara Storm. I never thought I'd run into you like this, and with Duke Hawthorne no less."

If I could open my mouth and throw up a third time in less than twenty-four hours, then I would. He is just as handsome as Hawthorne and the smirk he's currently wearing is warm and alluring all at once.

I swallow hard, slowly shifting into la-la land where hearts are nearly bursting through my eyes and remind myself that there's a killer out there. And it must be someone close to Evara.

"Winston," Hawthorne announced coldly.

"Hawthorne."

Okay, I'm sensing some major tension here and I don't think a group exercise or a mediator is going to cut it.

"Erm, would you like to join us?" I asked softly, grimacing from their polarising reactions. Hawthorne's jaw twitches in anger while orange eyes gives an excited nod.

Winston, Winston...who is he? Why can't I find him anywhere in Evara's memories?

I'm chewing my bottom lip and can sense Hawthorne watching my every move, never taking his eyes off of me. So with him present, I decide to be abrasive and straight to the point. "Winston, you should know. I've had a terrible accident and I forget faces and names, and whole portions of my memory. So, tell me. Who are you and how do I know you?"

His smile falters, wondering if I'm being serious or just plain cruel. Yet the crease in my forehead and earnest amethysts make him level his head solemnly. "Who am I?" Winston echoed, a slyness creeping into his face that reminds me of the sun itself.

"Why, I'm a man in love with you."

Excuse me? He's what now?