Silken Rapture: Princes of the Underground, Book 2 Read Online Free Page B

middle of a chamber that was so exquisite, so decadently grand, she might have awakened in one of the Medici’s Renaissance palazzos. She couldn’t tell if it was night or day, the chocolate-brown velvet draperies and amber silk panels were so luxurious and thick. Her gaze skimmed across the hand-painted frescoes on the domed ceiling—the artistry unlike anything she’d ever seen. The eye could get lost in the elaborate details of the plaster moldings.
    It would be like awakening in a Medici Renaissance palazzo if it weren’t for the modern conveniences, she thought to herself when she saw the enormous carved wood entertainment center and the fully stocked, granite-topped wet bar.
    I can just imagine what a Snickers would put me back in this hotel.
    The thought steadied her, made it possible for her to whisk back the amber silk sheets and sit up. She refused to acknowledge the other thought that slunk like a black shadow in the background.
    This is no hotel you ever checked into.
    It was difficult to banish that frightening thought when she realized she was naked, save for her black velvet gloves. She’d bought the gloves, along with a sophisticated evening dress, for the reception at King’s College. At least whoever had removed her clothes had the common sense to leave her the protection of her gloves.
    The car wreck a year and a half ago had marked a turning point in her life in more ways than one. She’d been in a coma for six months before she awakened, but when she did, everything was different. Not only could she sense other people’s auras and sometimes read minds—abilities she’d possessed for as long as she had memory—she’d somehow acquired a terrifying new power.
    With just a touch of her hands and fingertips, Isabel would learn an object’s history through flashes of the identity and feelings of those who had handled the item. Unfortunately, what often came through with the most clarity were violent and traumatic events associated with the object.
    Touching other people could be worse. Far worse. She had never known the amount of pain, loneliness, lust, hatred, fury and sadness a human being could possibly harbor beneath skin and bone until she’d awakened from that coma. The knowledge had tipped Isabel’s known, familiar world off its axis.
    Lester Dee, a professor from New York University, had sought her out a year after she’d left the hospital. He’d read an article about her abilities as a psychometrist and tried to locate her for six months. When he found her, she’d been living in a halfway house, malnourished, depressed and straddling the threshold between life and death.
    Who wanted to live when touching objects, and especially fellow human beings, could be pure agony? She was destined to die alone.
    Lester had lifted her out of the abyss, helped her find ways to cope with her new ability even as he studied it and shared his findings with her. Lester had been the reason she was making a tour of universities in the United Kingdom. His research articles on her abilities had gained great interest as well as controversy in the academic community. She’d always wanted to see England, so she’d been more than happy to accompany Lester so that he could validate his claims.
    One thing Isabel had learned when it came to anything paranormal—scholars never believed without seeing proof firsthand, and they rarely believed even then.
    Was Lesterin this grand establishment as well?
    She squinted, trying to locate memories in her brain. It was a little like grasping for a feather in an unfamiliar, pitch-black room. Fear rose in her, causing a bitter taste at the back of her throat. She stood, pausing a moment while she steadied herself with a hand on the mattress. It wasn’t a normal dizziness. Strangely, she felt overly energized, not drained, as if she’d just drunk a potent stimulant.
    The room spun and then resolved into magnificent grandeur once again. She spied a carved door and