Airel: The Discovering (Airel Saga Book Two)

Chapter II

Somewhere in the Mountains of Idaho—Present Day

I DREAMT OF THE Book, felt its presence in the room like a living thing. I could swear it called to me in the night the way my mother would: sweetly.

I opened my eyes to see the sun high in the sky, the curtains pulled back, and a warm yellow sunbeam filtering across my bed. I yawned, reaching up with my arms over the forest of soft pillows. I felt my back pop and a rush of wonderfulness flow through me like the unkinking of a garden hose.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Michael’s voice made me start. He grinned and chuckled low.

“Michael, you scared me. What are you doing?” I pulled the covers up to my neck, though I was fully clothed in my pajamas.

“Relax, I’m just here to wake you. I couldn’t let you sleep any longer. It’s noon already, and the date I have planned for us is slowly slipping away.” I smiled and let the covers fall away. I struggled out of their grasp, my feet finding the floor. I discreetly checked my breath and ran a hand through my tangled hair. I was promptly self-conscious. We were dangerously mixing bedhead, dragon-breath, and Michael Alexander. He was standing only a few feet away, offering a date, and it made my heart ache. He was so thoughtful and was doing all he could to keep me from losing it. He had a way of calming me, making all the stress I felt seem far away.

“You kinda caught me at a bad time, Mister.” I could feel my face heat up and my palms begin to sweat.

He looked at me, stuttered, and cleared his throat, looking down at the floor. “I’ll just wait down in the kitchen. That way you can make your stunning entrance. I made you breakfast—well, lunch.” He had worked his way to the door as he spoke, and then he smiled, turned, and left.

I shook my head at him, smiling. As soon as the door closed, I leaped from the bedside to the bathroom. I got ready as quickly as I could, dressing in jeans and a pink hoodie. I stepped into my sneakers and ran down the stairs, feeling better than I could have imagined. One look in the mirror had told me I was still beautiful. Once again, no makeup required. I shook my head and let my hair sort itself out. I would never get used to this.

Michael was standing with his back to me at one of the counters, downing a large glass of orange juice. I stopped and looked at him, feeling my heart rise and thump in my chest. I snuck in and grabbed a stool, sitting on it. “So what’s the special?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice.

“Gotcha back,” I said.

He smiled.

“You are as smooth at a jungle cat.” When he turned toward me, a large bowl of exotic fruits came into view behind him. He had arranged everything in the shape of a heart.

I clicked my tongue and said, “Awww.” It was such a nice gesture, a little over the top in a hopeless romantic sort of way, but I liked that about him.

“There’s fresh bread, too,” he said, turning to the brick oven. He brought out a couple of gorgeous-looking rounds of sourdough, and abruptly my stomach turned.

Oh, no. I didn’t want to get sick again. Why was this happening? It was like a second puberty—no matter how you sliced that idea, it was bad. I spoke in an effort to distract myself. “You make your own bread, too?” I was impressed.

“Sure, why not?” He looked at me quizzically, cocking his head. “You okay? You look weird.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well. Not weird. I mean, you look great. But you look like you just smelled something gross…”

My mind fluttered, going into emergency procedures. Michael’s eyebrows lowered, making me wonder what he was thinking. “I’m fine; just hungry. It all looks so good.”