Beyond Your Touch

By Pat Esden

She wants more than he can promise.
His desires could lead to betrayal.
But without each other, neither can survive the dangers ahead.
 
 
Annie Freemont knows this isn’t the right time to get involved with a man like Chase. After years of distrust, she’s finally drawing close to her estranged family, and he’s an employee on their estate in Maine. Though she never intended to stay on the estate for long, her father’s illness and the mysteries surrounding her family made leaving impossible. And now with the newfound hope of rescuing her long-missing mother, Annie’s determined to be involved with the family’s plans one way or another.
 
If only she could keep her mind off Chase and focus on the impending rescue. But there’s something about the enigmatic Chase that she can’t resist. And she’s not the only woman. Annie fears a seductive stranger who is key to safely freeing her mother is also obsessed with him. As plans transform into action and time for a treacherous journey into a strange world draws near, every move Annie makes will test the one bond she’s trusted with her secrets, her desires—and her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kensington Books
• Release date: Sep 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781496700087

Pat Esden

PAT ESDEN would love to say she spent her childhood in intellectual pursuits. The truth is she was fonder of exploring abandoned houses and old cemeteries. When not out on her own adventures, she can be found in her northern Vermont home writing stories about brave, smart women and the men who capture their hearts. An antique-dealing florist by trade, she’s also a member of Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and the League of Vermont Writers. Her short stories have appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society’s Mythic Circle literary magazine, and George H. Scithers’s anthology Cat Tales. You can find Pat online at PatEsden.com, Facebook.com/PatEsdenAuthor, Twitter @PatEsden, and PatEsden.blogspot.com.

Book preview

curtain.

CHAPTER 1

Bury the truth in robes of marble and ivy, In halls of learned books and tomes ripe with false beliefs. But it still breathes, still whispers and waits.

—Excerpt from Devils and Djinn

By Samuel Freemont

His neck tasted like strawberry jelly. Well, actually like jelly and powdered sugar—which was no surprise since we’d spent the last hour wreaking havoc on his freshly washed sheets, first by having a jelly doughnut fight, and then by making love in said newly created mess. Chase was no slouch when it came to lovemaking, far from it. But the doughnut fight had made me laugh until I cried. In all honesty, I’m not sure which I enjoyed more, the fight or the sex—or seeing him laugh, his mind and body off-duty for a change, just there in the moment with me.

Chase rolled me onto my back and straddled me, his forehead resting against mine, his soft blue aura soaking my skin with warmth. We kissed again, gently this time, lips moving in a slow, delicious waltz. I broke away and wiggled a bit lower, trailing kisses down his neck and licking a lingering dab of jelly off his collarbone. He flinched when the tip of my tongue brushed the scarred skin just below his left shoulder, a fist-size mark created so many years ago by Malphic’s branding iron.

It was hard to even begin to think about how different Chase’s childhood and mine had been: me traveling and dealing antiques with my dad, blissfully unaware that the stories he told me about magic and his family were real—and Chase kidnapped from his human mother, taken to the djinn realm, branded and enslaved by his genie father, and raised to be a Death Warrior until my family rescued him five years ago. It was crazy. Almost unbelievably so, but it was the truth.

The phone on the floor beside his bed jangled, and our private world evaporated as Chase climbed over me and sat on the edge of the bed to read the text.

Damn. I was supposed to go see your grandfather this morning. He was up, grabbing his briefs and jeans, his aura fading with each step.

In less than a dozen strides, he was across his attic bedroom and into the tiny half bath. It wasn’t like Chase’s and my growing relationship was a secret, something banned because I was a Freemont and he worked for my family. But finding any semblance of privacy had proven impossible with both of us living on my family’s estate of Moonhill. It had been a month since I’d first come here with Dad and things had started to sizzle with Chase. Still, we’d only managed to spend the whole night together a couple of times. Mostly we stole our alone time when and where we could, like this morning.

I retrieved my jeans and shirt from the floor, then glanced out the window. It had been foggy and barely dawn when I’d driven the ATV up from the main house to have doughnuts and coffee at the cottage with Chase. Now the fog had lifted and sunshine brightened everything. It had to be close to eight or nine o’clock.

My eye caught the movement of a dozen black sheep drifting under Chase’s clothesline and headed around the corner of the cottage toward the estate’s front gate.

Chase? I turned toward the bathroom. I’m guessing the sheep aren’t supposed to be wandering around in your yard?

Crap! He flew out of the bathroom and dashed down the stairs. His footsteps stopped and he called back up to me. Don’t worry about the mess. I’m doing laundry later. And Annie, I’m sorry about running off like this.

Don’t worry. I’ll be right down to help. I made my own quick trip to the bathroom and headed down the narrow stairs to find him. I didn’t know a thing about sheep, but I was sure he could use an extra hand with rounding them up or something.

Once downstairs, I started across Chase’s tiny living room. There wasn’t much in it: a secondhand couch, a chair, some exercise equipment, a coffee table, and an ivy plant he’d picked up after I started visiting. Through the front windows, I had a view across the sheep-covered lawn to where a black Jaguar had stopped on its way out the gate. Chase stood with one hand on its roof, hunched over, talking to the person riding shotgun. My grandfather. It looked like my uncle David was driving and someone was in the backseat. My dad.

My shoulders tensed. Last night, Dad hadn’t mentioned going anywhere. He hadn’t texted or left a voice-mail message, either. For that matter, I’d never seen all three of them go anywhere together. What the heck was going on?

I found my cardigan on the coffee table next to our empty coffee mugs and Chase’s blue yarn and knitting needles. Snagging it, I shoved my arms into the sleeves and launched myself out the front door.

Undoubtedly my early-morning presence at the cottage would confirm Uncle David’s conviction that I had the morals of a sewer rat. Well, to hell with him. I was twenty, after all. Chase and me hanging out together shouldn’t get anyone’s panties in a bunch. But David would hassle my dad, who in turn would tell me to be more discreet and to not forget to use protection—and remind me that Chase was half genie as if that might call for some kind of magical contraceptive. Which would make me blush and worry Dad might be right.

A knowing smile tugged at the corner of my grandfather’s mouth as I jogged between the sheep and up to the car. I put my hands on my hips and glared through the open front-passenger window. So, what’s going on? I asked.

Apparently, they’re going to Slovenia, Chase said, folding his arms across his chest.

I let my glare dart past Grandfather and to my dad in the backseat. Slovenia? Don’t you think you might have said something? What the heck’s in Slovenia?

Dad’s eyes sparkled with excitement. A bone flute, a twin to the Divje Babe. But more recently discovered and still in private hands at this moment. If our theory’s correct, it can be used to open the veil between realms, and more specifically to break through even a warded veil. Interesting, wouldn’t you say?

My pulse jumped at the possibilities and I nodded my agreement. My mother had been Malphic’s prisoner in the djinn realm since before Chase had been kidnapped and enslaved. The family had tried to rescue her, but failed when Malphic used a warding spell to seal the veil before everyone could escape. If this flute could do what they thought, then we’d be able to attempt another rescue—like as soon as they got back.

I tilted my head, studying Dad intently. Are you sure it’ll work?

Fairly sure, but that’s where we need yours and Selena’s help, he said.

Grandfather patted my hand. Talk to your aunt Kate, she’ll tell you all about it.

We need to get going, Uncle David grumbled.

The car rolled forward a few inches, but I held on to the window’s edge a moment longer. Acquiring a flute in Slovenia had to be safer than fighting a vengeful genie and his shadow-henchmen, and we’d all survived that. Still I didn’t believe for a second I was hearing the whole story. Be careful, I said.

Dad gave me a quick air-kiss and a wave good-bye. Don’t worry. This is going to be easy. His tone was light, but there was a catch in his voice.

I waved back, then hugged myself as the Jaguar glided through the open gateway and disappeared down the road beyond.

An uneasy feeling twitched in my stomach. Dad hadn’t sounded that confident, not at all.

I pushed my worry down deeper, locking it away. Everything would be fine. Of course it would. It had to be.

CHAPTER 2

Flutes created from bones that once gave swans flight or carried the weight of lumbering bears now transport us to otherworlds on the notes of a song.

—From the Scroll of Zitherod.

Translation by Dr. Rupert Bancroft Walpole

Chase gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze. Don’t worry. They’ll be fine.

Maybe, I said. But no one’s going to convince me that acquiring an artifact like that isn’t risky, most likely downright dangerous. And there’s the little issue of how legal it is—and getting it past customs and into this country.

They know what they’re doing.

I suppose. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the sheep once again wandering in the direction of the open gateway. Chase must have noticed them too because he took off after them, whistling and waving his arms to herd them back into the yard. I raced after a couple of stragglers. And in no time at all, we had the whole flock across the lawn, funneling up a footpath toward their shedlike barn and pasture.

Must be a break in the fence, Chase said as we stopped to catch our breath.

I moved in close to him. I’d stay and help you look for it, but it sounds like Kate’s expecting me. I tilted my chin up and looked into his eyes, hoping to score a last-minute kiss.

Yeah, I’m curious to hear more about what’s going on too. His voice betrayed nothing, but the smolder in his ocean-deep eyes told me that I was going to get my way, and that perhaps he was recalling a bit of the Doughnut Olympics as well.

A flutter of desire danced in my stomach. I raked my fingers up his chest and readied to go up on my tiptoes. But a pang of anxiety mingled with the flutters, and I lowered my hands and gaze. I needed to finish talking about my worries before we got distracted by more pleasant things. Besides, getting it all out with him would make it easier to face Kate.

I took a deep breath. It’s not just the Slovenia trip that’s bothering me. I’m terrified about what comes next. It sounds awful, but— I looked back up. I love my mom. I want her back. But my dad . . . I hate the idea of him vanishing into their realm like she did, whether he has a magic flute or not. We just saved him from one genie. I don’t want to lose him to another one. And I know there’s no way to talk him out of going.

Chase brushed a wisp of hair back from my face. Nothing’s going to go wrong. He slid his fingers down my jawline, gave me a quick peck on the lips, then turned away and started toward the footpath. Miffed that he hadn’t gone in for a real kiss and convinced he was finished talking, I was about to go after him and launch into all the reasons why everything could go wrong, when I heard him mumble, I’ll make sure of it.

What? I said, hoping I’d heard wrong and mortified by what it could mean.

He kept walking up the footpath, wading through the sheep.

My cheeks burned with anger. He couldn’t be planning to . . . he wouldn’t!

I stormed up the path, sheep bawling and pushing forward. I caught up with him at the barnyard gate. My voice rose an octave. You can’t just say something like that and walk away. You’re not going to the realm. You can’t.

He tugged the gate open and the sheep siphoned through. I shouldn’t have said anything, he muttered.

Well, I’m glad you did. I’m terrified enough for Dad. But you? It’s too dangerous.

His unflinching eyes locked with mine, nailing the truth to my heart. Who would you rather have go, your uncle David or someone like Tibbs who doesn’t know a thing about the realm?

The ache in my chest transformed into a numbing chill. I wished with every inch of my being that it weren’t the case, but he was right. Plus, I totally understood that his desire went beyond his knowledge of the realm and the djinn. My mother had been the closest thing he’d had to a mom in the realm and she’d given up her chance for escape so he could get away.

He pulled the gate shut, then rested his hands on its top rail and stared out at the sheep and the hillside beyond it. When he spoke, it was as if he were talking to himself as much as to me. I knew it wouldn’t be long before we’d have to go to the realm. I should have been expecting it, should have been training, getting in the zone. But—you and me—I lost track of things.

I slipped up next to him and ran my hand along the rail until my pinky nudged his. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I mean, I was scared before and now— I swallowed a lump in my throat. I know you have to go. It’s better for everyone. And I promise, between now and then, I’m going to help find the safest possible way for you all to do it.

The sheep had wandered farther off now, heading out of the barnyard and up toward the cemetery that was their favorite place to graze. Up there was a headstone with my mother’s name on it. My grandmother’s grave was up there too.

Grandmother.

A sick feeling crashed over me and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold back a flood of painful memories. Since a few weeks ago when I’d broken the spell Aunt Kate had used to protect me from the anguish of remembering my mother’s kidnapping, a million flashes from my early childhood had returned to me, too many memories to fully comprehend at once. But over time their meanings and connections had become clear. Some were wonderful. Others—like the ones roiling in my head right now—haunted me and filled me with shame.

Chase slid his hand over mine, the warmth of his touch driving off the memories for a second. When I’m with you, I don’t think about anything else. His voice lowered, almost to a whisper. It’s not easy, keeping my aura under control so no one will see it. Letting go when I’m with you, the rush of being myself is better than anything else. But Annie—when I go into the realm, I need to have total focus and control. . . .

His voice faded into the distance as the memories assaulted me again. I had to tell him what I’d recalled, especially with the reality of my mother’s rescue and homecoming drawing close. If I kept what had happened to myself, the guilt and shame would burn a hole right through me. If anyone deserved blame for my mother being trapped in the djinn realm it wasn’t him. It was me. Chase, I said softly.

He turned toward me. Yeah?

The morning sun slanted across his face, sending shadows gliding along his jawline. I could have stared at that face forever, the strength of its lines, the hint of dark stubble, his tan, his dark cropped hair, his amazing eyes. He was beautiful, and he was about to risk his life to keep my dad safe and rescue my mom. Lives I should be saving because I alone was responsible for setting in motion the events that led to her kidnapping—and to my grandmother’s death.

My chest tightened and I swallowed back my words. Telling him would ease my anxiety. But he had enough to think about without shouldering my secrets. Besides, I wanted to enjoy every minute I could with him. Once—or if—Mother came back, decisions would have to be made: if she and Dad were going to live here or go back to our house in Vermont, where I was going to stay . . . things like that. It seemed far off in the future right now, but I’d also planned on taking a Sotheby’s course in London this fall, to work toward my goal of becoming a certified fine art appraiser. Dad had even agreed to pay for it. I had to decide if I still wanted to do that. Nothing, I said. It just—it kind of pissed me off when you didn’t kiss me. Like, really kiss me.

An amused smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and a glisten sparkled in his eyes. You sure you can handle it?

A wildfire ignited inside me and I giggled as he dramatically swept one hand around my waist, dipping me backward like a Disney prince sweeping his princess into a kiss. His lips smothered my laughter. I hooked my hands around his neck and returned his kiss, openmouthed, our lips and tongues teasing and tantalizing each other’s. His lips withdrew for a heartbeat, then returned even more insistent, his free hand claiming my chin, holding me prisoner, making me surrender to a round of even more sultry kisses. A blast of pleasure shuddered through me and I groaned. His lips left mine, nibbling their way to my ear.

Better? he whispered.

And then some. I could barely breathe.

I’m thinking one more, he said.

Two or maybe three kisses after that, I drifted back to the cottage, squashed on my helmet, and took off on the ATV. As I headed up the driveway, I was lost in the buzz still zinging through my body and the vibrating hum of the engine. But when I reached where the drive overlooked the sprawling main house and the ocean beyond, my searing guilt and shame returned with a vengeance, and those unrelenting memories hit me full force.

Whispers wake me. I crack my eyes open. I’m in Mama’s bed, in her and Daddy’s room. Everything is blue and hazy, moonlit. A broad-shouldered man with a bare chest and a shaved head is holding Mama, kissing her. Another memory follows: I stand in the hallway outside the room. Grandmother kneels in front of me, her gentle hands cupping my face, so much love in her gray-blue eyes. She asks me something and it makes my stomach hurt. I raise my chin and lie. No, I haven’t seen Mama with a man. A day or maybe a week later: Moonhill’s parlor is filled with yellow roses, the air heavy with their scent. Mama, Daddy, everyone’s crying. Grandma. Sudden death. A curse? A strange illness? Roses everywhere. I push a thorn against my thumb, tears flooding down my face as a voice inside me chants: Liar. Liar.

I gave the ATV as much gas as I dared and flew full-tilt down the hill toward the house, focusing on the bite of the wind against my face, struggling to shove those painful memories aside. But try as I might, I couldn’t forget what they’d already made perfectly clear: If I’d told Grandmother the truth, then she would have known for sure that Malphic was visiting Mother. She would have told everyone, protected herself, and done something to free Mother from his grip before he kidnapped her. Still, remembering wasn’t what was important and changing the past was impossible. The only thing I could do now was help with the plans to free my mother and bring her home again—and, by doing so, start to set right what my lie had put into motion.

I parked the ATV in the garage, then strode to the front door and into the mansion’s museum-like foyer. My sneakers squeaked against the marble floor as I marched to the west wing hallway. It was silent and dark, except for the flicker of light coming from the mirror-backed display cases, packed with whirring apparatuses.

When I reached the door to Kate’s study, I took a deep breath, knocked once, and let myself in.

Kate sat behind her desk. Most people with a bandaged neck and arm would look haggard. But not my aunt Kate. Even her lingering bruises only served to make her look more like a dominatrix than usual, not like a weakened woman recovering from a battle with genies.

Next to her desk, my cousin Selena lounged in a chair with her legs stretched out in front of her. Her blond hair swished across her back as she pivoted to smile at me.

Hey, Cousin, she said, haven’t seen you all morning. Did you get my text?

Ah—no. I was kind of busy. I settled into the chair next to her.

Kate wrinkled her nose at me. It would appear you’ve been out somewhere?

I attempted to flick my helmet-flattened hair back, but my fingers snagged on a jelly-sticky snarl. I grinned sheepishly. Yeah, ATV riding.

Of course you were, Kate said. Then she cleared her throat. Whatever. We’re not here to discuss your hobbies.

The f-word danced on the tip of my tongue, but I pressed my lips into a reserved smile and resisted the urge to say it out loud. Not reacting was more likely to get under Kate’s skin.

I’m assuming both of you know that the men have gone to acquire a flute? she asked.

Selena shifted upright, crossing her legs. Mom said you and her are working on making the Methuselah oil scent-free?

Yes. The plan is to have that done before the men return.

I tilted my head, taking it all in. When Kate and Selena’s dad had attempted to rescue my mother five years ago, they’d used the oil of Methuselah to prevent their bodies from becoming ethereal in the djinn realm. Unfortunately the oil had a strong odor that the genies detected. Kate and David had managed to escape with Chase, but the warning set off by the oil had given Malphic all the time he needed to seal the veil with a quick warding spell before Mother could get through. Still—judging by the way Kate was nervously fiddling with her signet ring—I suspected the oil wasn’t the only issue this time.

"Dad said you’re only fairly sure this flute idea will work," I said, pinning her with a pointed look.

She pursed her lips. That’s not quite accurate.

I swallowed a smile. Gotcha. The ability to read body language had its perks, at auctions and times like this.

Without taking her eyes off me, Kate plastered on a fake smile as if she’d figured out what I’d noticed. "We are certain it will work. But we’re missing a vital piece of the puzzle. We still don’t know how the flute-magic works—what combination of notes can force the veil open and break wards, if additional spells are required, those sort of details."

I snorted. That’s a pretty major stumbling block. Isn’t it a bit ridiculous to go all the way to Slovenia for a flute before you know how to use it?

What you’ve failed to take into consideration is that flutes like this don’t become available every time one turns around.

Well, that depends on where one gets it, right? I said, injecting a healthy dose of innuendo into my voice.

Kate flagged her hand as if going into more detail would be wasted on me. At any rate, she continued, the Professor is getting in touch with some of his Oxford connections about the music aspect and going to keep researching here as well. And Zachary—

Selena cut her off. I know where this is going. Annie and I get the joy of babysitting Zachary while everyone else does interesting stuff.

I nodded my agreement. Selena’s little brother, Zachary, was seven years younger than her. I liked him. He was super smart for an eleven-year-old, like Mensa-smart—which was why the Professor was tutoring him. Still, Selena was right, we deserved to have a more important role than glorified babysitters.

Glancing up, Kate hesitated as if thinking. Babysitting, that’s not a half-bad idea. Her gaze came back to us. But this time Zachary will be helping the Professor.

Really? Selena grinned.

I met Kate’s eyes. So what are we doing, then?

She rested her elbows on the desk and steepled her fingers. There’s a bone flute at the old Abbe Museum in Bar Harbor.

Bar Harbor? Selena’s grin widened.

Kate scowled. This is not a shopping trip. We’ve already used photos to study the flute, but images are never the same as seeing something in person. We’d like you to make sure we didn’t miss a detail, and also double-check the other exhibits and the museum’s downtown location, look for anything that could represent opening the veil between realms—specifically with the music produced by a flute. We’ve long suspected that some otherworldly beings in Native American mythology are likely genies of one variety or another. But it’s an area that hasn’t been thoroughly explored.

Ah—I hate to ask this, I said. Why are they going all the way to Slovenia to acquire a flute? Couldn’t you figure out how to get access to the Abbe flute? You could use a 3-D printer to make a reproduction. It isn’t like the flute has to be old to work, right? I mean, when the original shaman made and used the flute, it would have been new then.

Selena grabbed my arm, her white-tipped nails digging in a little. That’s a great idea. The printer in the research room’s really good. Super advanced.

In theory, it’s a sound idea—Kate looked down her nose at me—but it has one insurmountable flaw. The Abbe flute is made from a swan’s bone. The one the men have gone after was created from a cave bear femur. It’s our belief that man’s ability to force the veil open died with the cave bears’ extinction. However, we could be wrong. That’s part of the reason for your trip.

My mind raced as I flipped through the millions of tales Dad had made up and told me since I was little, looking for one involving a flute. As wild as Dad’s home-brewed stories were, coming to Moonhill had made me realize they were more fact than fiction—almost pure fact for that matter. But there weren’t any that involved a flute.

Kate’s eyes homed in on mine. She rubbed her

Reviews for Beyond Your Touch

[thebookjunkiereads-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Mystery, suspense, intrigue, romance, deception, misdirection, illusions, and a bit of confusion. I did not read book one and must admit to having a few questions on things here and there. I found the scenery vividly described and the characters scope wide. The relationship between Chase and Annie had deep connection. With the introduction of a new female more dynamic undertones the paranormal aspects picks up and intensify. Annie for me shows her strength, courage, and establishes her resolve. She did allow for doubts to linger for a long period of time. She took charge and did what she had to do. Her focus needed to be on the task at hand. Complications of a relationship and the added jealousy and twist was not needed. I found much to enjoy about this read but felt that I did need to have book one under my belt before tackling this one. I felt like I missed a a chapter or two. Walking in on the act was not endearing but did allow for me to find a series to follow more after attaining book one. I look forward to book three but I do recommend reading book one before jumping in to book two. You just don't know what doors were open before and need to be closed or opened again.

[ladycato · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I received this book from the author in exchange for my honest review.Beyond Your Touch (out in September 2016) is in many ways a stronger book than its predecessor. A Hold On Me embodied very gothic overtones while building up a paranormal romance. In this second book, the romance between Annie and Chase is well established--with forthright depictions of a sexual relationship between young adults, with protection use and all. However, they must cool off their passions as they prepare for a foray across the veil to save Annie's mother, long held captive by Chase's cruel father. I was concerned at the build up of a love triangle with newcomer Lotli--I really don't like love triangles--but I was pleased that the plot didn't dwell on that for long, and I ended up really liking Lotli.Esden's writing is strong. Annie is a relatable young woman contending with love, jealousy, and an inherent drive to save her mother. The tension really picks up as the book continues. This is a book to blaze through in a day or two. I found the mystery and adventure aspects to be stronger than the romance, but all of the elements blend well for a solid, fast read.