Nora Connolly

Twenty-seven:

Nora Connolly

The first thing Nora was aware of was that she wasn’t in Roman’s room. That alone should have been cause for concern. But then, on the stove, there was a cauldron bubbling with something purple inside of it. A tall, blond man wearing black stood over it, stirring the boiling substance.

“I knew it would only be a matter of time until you found me.” He had a deep voice, with a British accent.

Nora frowned. “Found you?”

He looked up. “Yes. We were bound to each other as children, you and me. It was all part of your grandfather’s plan to keep you from being with that werewolf. Your parents, of course, weren’t too happy about it. But Mordred---even though he was a wizard---had some common sense. Werewolves don’t like our kind. Your so-called ‘mate’ will kill you.”

“You know nothing,” Nora snarled, “Roman isn’t anything like that. He loves me. I know it. And you…I’ve got no idea who you are. But I do know that I want nothing to do with you.”

He laughed. “As if yo