Stars of Fortune (The Guardians Trilogy, #1)(100)

“On that really excellent note—” Riley handed him a piece of paper. “The coordinates for our digs in Capri. Why don’t we do what we have to do—get that boat out of here, get the jeep back, clean up our mess—and head out for round two?”

“All about it, and you know what? It’s damn well going to work. We’ve got it going,” Sawyer decided. “We’ll close up shop. Next stop, Capri.”

They saw to the practicalities, the duties.

In the deep night with its swimming moon, Sasha looked out one last time, over the sea. Bran took her hand, lifted it to his lips in a way she knew would always make her smile.

“We’ll come back one day, as you said.”

“I’d like that. I’d like to stand on the promontory with you again, under the stars, on a warm summer night when everything’s quiet, and as far as we can see, there’s peace.”

“You’re my light, Sasha. My star and my peace.” He touched his lips to hers. “Are you ready?”

“I am. For everything.”

Together they went down to the terrace to join the others.

“Apollo’s snoring inside. The neighbor’s coming to take care of him first thing in the morning, feed the cluckers.” Riley glanced at her watch. “Just a couple hours now. I’m going to miss that dog.”

“Dawn’s close. If we’re going to do this,” Doyle said, “we should do it now.”

“Bring it in, everybody.” Sawyer gestured for them to move closer. “Grab hands and hold on to your hats. This is going to be a hell of a ride.”

Sasha looked up into Bran’s face, laughed.

And it was a hell of a ride.

* * *

In her cave, Nerezza seethed. She’d eased her pain, but no matter how much blood, how much potion, how much will, the streak of gray remained snaking through her dark hair. Lines fanned out from her eyes and mouth.

She broke another mirror, and cursed. And her tears ran like blood down her face.

They would pay for marring her beauty. They would pay for defying her. No matter what world they ran to, no matter what magicks they devised, she would follow, she would destroy.

She would not rest until the stars shone for only her.

Picking up her globe, she ran a hand over it. There were ways, many ways. She had only to choose another.

As she looked, as she watched, she smiled. And began to see, began to plot. Began to laugh.





Keep reading for an excerpt from

The Obsession

by Nora Roberts

Available April 2016 from Berkley Books





Having a houseful of men had some advantages. Xander and Kevin carted out Naomi’s shipping boxes and the smaller box of prints she’d framed for potential sale locally.

It left her free to carry her camera bag.

“Thanks. I’ll get these shipped off this morning.”

Xan tapped Naomi’s camera bag. “Going to work, too?”

“I am. I’ll take an hour or two before I head to town.”

“Where?” When her eyebrows raised, he kept it casual. “Just wondering.”

“Down below the bluff. We’ll see if the rain washed in anything interesting. It’s a pretty spring morning. Boats should be out.”

“Good luck with that.” He yanked her in for a kiss, gave the dog a quick rub. “See you later.”

She’d be within sight of the house, he thought as he swung onto his bike. And he’d already had a short, private conversation with Kevin about keeping an eye out.

Best he could do, but he wouldn’t be altogether easy until they found out what happened to Marla.

* * *

Naomi considered taking the car. She could drive nearly a half a mile closer, then take a track down through the woods—since she wanted shots there first—and make her way down to the shoreline.

But quiet area or not, she didn’t like the idea of leaving her car on the side of the road with her prints locked inside.

She got the leash, which immediately had Tag racing in the opposite direction. Since she had his number, she only shrugged and started down the curve of road.

He slunk after her.

She stopped, took a dog cookie out of her pocket. “You want this, you wear this until we’re off the road.” She held out the leash.

Dislike for the leash lost to greed.

He strained against the leash, tugged it, did his best to tangle himself in it. Naomi clipped it to her belt with a carabiner, stopped to frame in some white wildflowers the rain had teased open like stars on the side of the road.

He behaved better in the forest, occupying himself by sniffing the air, nosing the ground.

Naomi took carefully angled shots of a nurse log surrounded by ferns and blanketed with lichen and moss—yellows, rusty reds, greens on wood studded with mushrooms that spread like alien creatures. A pair of trees, easily ten feet high, rose from it, the roots wrapped around the decaying log as if in an embrace.

New life, she thought, from the dead and dying.

The long rain had soaked the green so it tinted the light. It seduced wildflowers to dance in sunbeam and shadow. It scented the air with earth and pine and secrets.

After an hour she nearly headed back, left the shoreline for another day. But she wanted the sparkle of sun on the water after the misty damp of the forest. She wanted the deeper, rougher green of those knuckles of land, the strong gray of rock against the blues.