Through Her Eyes
Claire despises her ability to see into the future, but when her dreams include a heated encounter with a gorgeous, dominant, mysterious lover — and a spine-chilling foretelling of danger to her own life — she knows she has to make a choice between the safety of denial and the seductive passion that that seems to go hand-in-hand with her own death. Having had a taste of the wild hunger that flares between them, it’s not much of a choice at all.
He’s not psychic, but Des knows things Claire’s power can’t reveal. He knows about a psychopathic madman who’s set his sights on her, and the fact that her brainy, rational exterior hides a deeply sensual, uninhibited woman. Des also knows something else — that he will claim Claire as his.
If he can keep her alive, that is.
Read an Excerpt
She awoke, chilled and disoriented, lying alone on a couch. She’d been dreaming about the man in the library. No…it couldn’t have been a dream. She wouldn’t accept that.
She sat up abruptly and realized she was still in the library. Her gaze darted around frantically. The fire in the hearth had cooled. Only a few embers continued to glow with heat. Snow still covered the trees and shrubbery outside the window.
She was still in the dream.
Pain sliced through her as if she’d been dealt a blow when she saw him. He wore his jeans again and sat in the chair by the hearth. He leaned with his head in his hands, holding the same desolate pose she’d first seen him in when she came in the library.
He was alone again, distant from her…untouchable.
At least he was still there, she consoled herself. Claire paused when she considered what had just happened between her and this manâ€”this complete stranger. But then she recalled the reason why she had wanted so desperately to reach out to him.
She had wanted to warn him. She reached out with her psychic awareness.
Yes, it was still there. Some threat, some danger as yet unformed but taking shape even at this moment. She stood, knowing she had to reach him again in order to alert him. This was his world. He had power in it while she was a mere ghost.
She went to him, her cheeks heating as she recalled what had occurred between them.
Harder. Use me. Take what’s yours.
Her eyes clenched tight. Everything had spun so incredibly out of control. But at least she’d gotten his attention, she thought with a wry twist to her mouth. He’d seen her, touched her. Now she needed to warn him within the realm of the dream, get his help to stop whatever tragedy was about to take place here, in his time.
Claire glanced down, saw her nightgown intact, as if he had never touched her. Why had he covered her? Why had he dressed himself? She knew she should be glad that he had but instead she only experienced a sense of hollowness.
Once I have you I’ll always be empty in your absence.
No, no, she couldn’t consider that now. The sense of danger swelled, as though the threat existed simultaneously both in the house and within her own breast. She moved over to him, touching his shoulder.
“You have to come with me,” she whispered urgently.
Claire didn’t know what she’d expected from him but it wasn’t the haggard, tormented expression that she saw on his features when he leaned back in the chair and considered her dully. Tears pricked behind her eyelids. Where was the heat, the focused, intense desire that she’d seen in his silver eyes before?
“Please come with me before it’s too late.”
She didn’t trust herself to touch him again. Apparently her verbal plea was sufficient. He stood and followed her without speaking. Claire was too anxious about the unfolding danger to notice the way he trailed after her resignedly up the grand staircase, like a man being lead to the gallows after years of torture and imprisonment.
She didn’t hesitate when they reached the top of the grand staircase, heading directly for the master bedroomâ€”Aunt Isabelle’s old room.
Enough illumination from the moon and streetlights came in through the windows for Claire to sufficiently see the large, elegantly decorated bedroom. Her brow crinkled in confusion. The bedding on her aunt’s four-poster bed looked mussed, as though someone had just been lying on it. Otherwise the room seemed empty and eerily still. Even so, Claire sensed a watching menace. The claustrophobic sensation that she’d felt in her recent nightmares crept into her awareness. A sure knowledge passed through her, cold and sharp.
They weren’t alone.
She walked across the room to the wood-paneled door that began at waist level. The door stood open, blocking her view into the space behind it. It was the entrance to the dumbwaiterâ€”situated ideally so that the original owners of the nineteenth century mansion could have trays or other items sent directly to their room from the kitchen staff.
Her skin pebbled with a deep, primal fear. She hesitated but the man behind her didn’t. He seemed galvanized into action. He pushed her aside, his movements now forceful and determined. He opened the dumbwaiter door wide, exposing the interior to Claire’s gaze.
Despite her desire to look away her gaze remained glued to the grisly spectacle. A body hung in the dumbwaiter shaft limply, the head falling at an unnatural, sickening angle. The woman’s neck was broken. Long, fair hair spilled forward over her face. A silent scream rose in Claire’s throat as the man reached forward. The body swayed at his touch. A rope had been tied around the corpse’s neck.
He lifted, slackening the cruel hold on the woman’s slender throat. A pale, lifeless arm fell forward through the dumbwaiter opening. The silver of the bracelet on her wrist glowed with a life of its own in the faint moonlight while the turquoise seemed dense and black, mottling the corpse’s fair skin.
Claire stumbled back, escape her sole primitive directive. A dark figure stood in front of her, aggressively blocking her path to the door. Isabelle’s face looked as stern as a judge’s and deadly pale. She held up her hand but Claire couldn’t determine in her rising terror if Isabelle was bidding her to attend to what was behind her or if she was angrily ordering her away.
Claire awoke to the sound and sensation of terrified, trapped cries in her throat. She sat up, gasping wildly for air. The sheets were damp with her sweat, the bedside lamp still on. She panted while her gaze flew anxiously across the everyday items of her room…seeking comfort, craving sanity.
She saw the skirt she’d set out for work tomorrow laid across the back of the upholstered chair beside her closet. There was the book, just as she’d left it on the bedside tableâ€”Dreams, Prophecy, and the Future.
“It wasn’t real,” she assured herself.
The vision of the dead woman hanging in the dumbwaiter, then her aunt’s white face and wrathful gaze, flashed graphically into her mind’s eye. She shoved aside the book. The silver and turquoise bracelet still lay on her bedside table. The same bracelet she had seen on the corpse’s wristâ€”
“It’ll never happen,” she mouthed soundlessly.
She inspected her body with her eyes and hands, assuring herself that she was intact. Alive. Her final thought caused her to shake her head irritably. Her imagination had more than likely been stirred up by the book. Nothing more.
Logic implied all of it had been a figment of her imagination, of course.
Even the part about the man.
Read the Reviews
This story is so hot you will need a fan or an ice This story is so hot you will need a fan or an ice cube to cool your body off. The characters are smart and have emotions, a wonderfully written, engaging story.
4.5 Stars, A Night Owl Romance Top Pick Selection, Night Owl Romance Reviews
When it comes to Beth Kery, I am a total fan girl.Â
4 Tombstones, Bitten By Books Reviews
Through Her EyesÂ is one of Ms. Kery’s best, which is a long list, but it deserves to be right near the top.
A-Review, The Good, The Bad and The Unread.
Read Through Her Eyes when you want a paranormal that will get you steamy and make you want more of Beth Kery in the future.
4 Lips, Two Lips Reviews