Chapter One

 

If she’d known that teaching ninth grade English would cause the local school board to launch a battle against her, Mara Eldress would have stayed in the military.

 

It had more tools at the ready.

 

Sitting at her desk in a just-vacated classroom, Mara was hate-reading the superintendent’s email for the tenth time, when the principal, Dr. Eliza Brady stepped inside.

 

“I’m glad I caught you before you left for the two-week winter break,” Dr. Brady said. The principal was a forty-year educator with a steady, stoic voice that carried weight and authority.

 

As a fifteen-year military veteran who’d reached the rank of Master Sergeant, Mara appreciated hierarchal order and predictability. She’d still be wearing an army uniform if it hadn’t been for two concurrent IED blasts.

 

The resulting traumatic brain injury cut her military career short, but after regular therapy and early medical intervention, Mara was in a much better state. Her mood swings were less pronounced, the debilitating headaches less severe, and her sense of self-worth and achievement had skyrocketed after she’d completed her English degree two years ago and established a new career.

 

She was only a few months into her first year of teaching. She’d lived through the foster care system, she could coach screaming generals off a ledge, and she could dismantle an explosives ordnance with her eyes closed. But as a newcomer to academia, Mara did not have a lot of experience with academic obstacles.

 

In short, Mara’s life had trained her to deal with conflict, but it hadn’t prepared her for an overzealous school board.

 

“Good evening, Dr. Brady.”

 

Dr. Brady leaned against one of the student desks across from her and crossed her legs. Her long gray hair was twisted in a tight bun and her tiny eyeglasses were perched precariously at the tip of her nose. It was a mystery to Mara how the wiry frames stayed put.

 

In the principal’s hand was a slim novella and the object that had caused the school board’s nuclear meltdown.

 

The Curse of Mathilda’s Sorrow was a recently published manuscript that had been found in the estate of a rare books dealer who’d died a few years before. Its authorship was highly debated, though every famous author from the 1970s—which was when scholars believed it had been written—made the tale of an orchid that could grant near-immortal life all the more intriguing. That it had been tucked within the pages of a first edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray only added to its mystique.

 

“Given the way your eyes are cursing the screen, Mara, I surmise you received the superintendent’s message?”

 

“What I surmise, Dr. Brady, is that they have not read The Curse of Mathilda’s Sorrow. They claim the orchid is a hidden message of overt female sexuality.” She glowered again at the open email. “How very convenient to issue the ban after the last class on the Friday before a two-week break. Can I challenge them?”

 

The principal moved to the frosted, icicle-laced windows and looked out over the gray twilight sky. Mara shivered as she followed her gaze, taking in the mounds of snow in the parking lot. Last week, Boston and the surrounding areas, which included Riley Township, woke up to two feet of snow. New to Boston, Mara had yet to find a way to warm her blood once winter set in, though she had to admit her blood was boiling at the moment.

 

With a neutral voice, Dr. Brady said, “Perhaps, Mara, though I am loathe to place impediments in your path. Tell me more about the English assignment.”

 

Dr. Brady reminded Mara of a prim 1800s English governess. She’d overheard other teachers say the principal was intimidating, but Mara found formidable personalities relatable. She’d worked tirelessly for demanding army generals, navigated the military’s complicated medical system and, for the last two years, she’d fought tooth and nail to get her daughter’s mysterious symptoms diagnosed.

 

She wasn’t asking for a miracle cure; she and Finley just wanted to know what was wrong.

 

Mara had even written about her experiences. Part memoir, part self-help book, Fighting for Her: A Soldier’s Struggle had barely made a blip in the publishing world. Mara didn’t blame her literary agent for dropping her. His note said that their “interests no longer aligned but he wished her continued success in the future.”

 

Mara hoped that Dr. Brady’s interests would align with hers about the school board.

 

“My students are exploring the differences in how the English language is used between two stories of similar theme that are at least fifty years apart. The Curse of Mathilda’s Sorrow is one of five options. All selections were pre-approved by the school board with the understanding that students, or their parents, could opt out, provided they suggested a proper alternative. Four students chose The Curse of Mathilda’s Sorrow, fourteen students chose one of the other offered choices and two students opted out. They owe me their selections by tonight. They have the two-week winter break to do the reading.”

 

Mara figured Dr. Brady must not have expected such a precise response because, as she slowly pirouetted to face Mara, her delicately arched eyebrows went into super-arch mode.

 

Then, almost as quickly, she dropped that expression, clasped her hands behind her back, and sighed. “I can tell you’ve put careful planning into the assignment, Mara, which I admire. However, the school board received multiple complaints about this book in particular and have voted to remove The Curse of Mathilda’s Sorrow from the curriculum until it has undergone a content review. You will—”

 

“How many parents?” Mara interrupted. She figured one or two might object to the book, but to prevent everyone from reading it was in poor spirit.

 

Dr. Brady’s mouth snapped shut. Her steel-gray eyes turned cold and reprimanding. Mara chastised herself. She’d gone and pissed off Dr. Brady.

 

“You will instruct your students to select a different book. The superintendent has already emailed their parents.”

 

“Will you support me if I submit a rebuttal?”

 

✧✧✧

 

Eliza Brady softened toward Mara. She fiddled with the colorful silk scarf that hung loosely about her throat as she thought through things. Mara was beautiful but also a willowy thing, tall and thin, with brittle edges that might snap under duress. She knew her history, her military career, her combat experience. The school system was a different beast. It could chew up and spit out the best. She didn’t want that for Mara.

 

“I admire your dedication to literature, Mara,” Dr. Brady said. “But my hands—and yours—are tied until the school board makes a final determination.”

 

She paused in front Mara’s busy desk, her hand hovering above a precarious stack of books that needed returning to the library. It was an assortment of young adult dystopian novels her students must have read for a previous assignment.

 

A hopeful expression bloomed on Mara’s face. “I sense a ‘but’ in your statement.”

 

Dr. Brady smiled. “Yes, you have my support in submitting a rebuttal. While I have not yet read The Curse of Mathilda’s Sorrow, I will say this: after a short amount of research, I am of the opinion the school board is overreacting.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me yet. Send me a draft email tonight and I will review it.” Her gaze flicked over to the stack of books. “Best get these to Ms. Stravdas before she locks the library. I believe she is leaving early. Something about her brother being in town.”

 

✧✧✧

 

Mara groaned, practically feeling the color drain from her face as she glared at the books stacked on her desk. They taunted her. She could have avoided this fate if she’d returned them earlier in the day.

 

Dessa Stravdas, the school’s librarian, would not shut up about her older brother, Vikk Stravdas. Every conversation somehow veered into Dessa suggesting they meet. The librarian failed to understand that Mara just wasn’t interested.

 

Mara was not in the right frame of mind for romance, not a casual date or two, not even an erotic daydream. So why bother?

 

✧✧✧

 

As Mara left her classroom, a flood of injustice filled her veins, the delayed emotional reaction not unexpected even as it threatened to drown her.

 

She wanted to run, to scream, to punch the school’s boring beige brick walls, but of course she would do none of those things, at least not while carrying a dozen books in her arms. It wasn’t lost on her that everyone seemed to want to protect impressionable teenagers from reading controversial novels, yet had no qualms with eighteen-year-olds joining the military to bear arms and fight—and often die.

 

Mara stopped walking. She was shaking. Then a wave of nausea hit and her ears started to ring.

 

Negative thoughts did this to her. She hated looking or feeling weak, even if no one was around to witness it. It was almost ingrained into her soul. Mara had been one of those eighteen-year-olds. As soon as she’d aged out of the foster system, she’d joined the military. With average grades and no money to attend college, she had no other prospects.

 

Truth was, it wasn’t all bad. She’d traveled the world, made amazing friends, and true to the military recruiter’s word, she was finally able to go to college—even if it was well after the fact.

 

Think positive thoughts, Mara.

 

For several long moments she practiced a series of breathing exercises to keep her stress level from rising and prevent a debilitating migraine from sneaking up on her. Elevated stress levels made everything a thousand times worse. Mara could not afford to have a breakdown, not when things were finally starting to go well, not when she had to be strong for her daughter.

 

After a short time, she felt steady enough to continue, grateful that the hallways were quiet as she made her way to the library. Up ahead, a petite figure in a puffy purple coat carrying two large canvas bags stood at the library’s double doors.

 

Mara, sighing with relief, didn’t see signs of anyone else with the librarian. Perhaps Dr. Brady was incorrect.

 

“Please wait, Ms. Stravdas,” Mara called out. Ms. Stravdas turned in surprise before a large smile spread across her heavily bronzed face. The blond hair piled atop her head was so bright, it was almost white, and shone like a lighthouse beacon. As soon as Mara closed the distance, she added, “I apologize for my tardiness.”

 

The librarian pushed open the doors with animated flare. She was as tiny as a pixy and as energetic as a sparkler. She assessed the pile of books in Mara’s hands.

 

“For that many books, Mara, your late fee will cost you a pretty penny.” She let out a tinkle of a laugh that made her seem so young compared to Mara’s own thirty-nine. Ms. Stravdas had a masters in library science, but she looked all of twenty-two.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that, Ms. Stravdas.” Mara hadn’t been able to place Dessa’s accent. It seemed a cross between Australian and Russian. Some words were light, with a lilted pronunciation whereas other words were rough, even choppy.

 

Over her shoulder, the librarian said, “Mara, I really wish you’d call me Dessa. I’ve only asked you like a million times.”

 

Mara’s arms had begun to ache, and she took a deep breath as she placed the books on the counter. The pleasant scent of a thousand books restored calm to her nerves. Books had gotten her through a rough childhood, heartbreak, and even combat. Late fee or no, a library would always be a safe haven for her.

 

“Right. Dessa.”

 

Mara was formal with everyone because, well, as a new teacher, she never wanted to overstep bounds. She was extra formal with Dessa Stravdas because she didn’t want to open any informal channels where the librarian might find an opening to casually mention her brother, Vikk Stravdas, a successful filmmaker who was supposedly single and handsome and funny.

 

Mara didn’t have time to be set up on a blind date.

 

✧✧✧

 

As Mara zipped up her winter coat and dug deep in a pocket to retrieve her keys, Dessa made no secret of studying the books’ spines while also stealthily observing the new English teacher.

 

“Lots of dystopian novels in that stack,” Dessa said conversationally. She liked Mara, but she retreated easily. “My brother Vikk”—Dessa said with an innocent smile—“he’s a film director, in case I haven’t mentioned it—likes to say that art imitates life.”

 

Dessa swiveled and directed up her full gaze at Mara, who was easily five or six or ten inches taller. Wow, what an Amazon. Tall and statuesque. Beautiful, with a touch of hardship tucked in the dark circles beneath her eyes.

 

At the mention of Vikk’s name, Dessa watched Mara’s face tense up. It made Dessa want to laugh. She had to wonder if Mara was worried she’d recite Vikk’s stellar qualities again. She wouldn’t. Not tonight. Not after what she’d heard about the school board’s decision.

 

Dessa took a deep breath and opened her mind’s eye to Mara’s essence. Her azure aura contained a tinge of red at the edges. Stress was trying to push in, but Mara was actively combatting it. A fighter. I wish she’d let someone take care of her for once.

 

To lighten the mood, Dessa said, “I can tell from your expression that you’ve been chatting with Dr. Brady.”

 

“Am I that easily read?” Mara asked.

 

“Your face is etched with bewilderment and agitation. Hallmark Dr. Brady reaction. Plus, I heard about the school board’s decision. What a bunch of assholes deciding that, and right before the two-week break. Never forget: it is always a strategic decision to drop negative news on a Friday night.” Together they stepped out of the library. Dessa turned off the lights and locked the door. “For what it’s worth, The Curse of Mathilda’s Sorrow is a huge hit with the Vraitheians.”

 

✧✧✧

 

Vraitheians? Mara frowned, her eyebrows bunching. She’d never heard of such a word. “Who are the Vraitheians?”

 

“Uh…” Dessa froze for a second, stumbling to respond. Just then, the janitor came toward them pushing a giant microfiber broom. She and Dessa made their way to the main exit lest they get swept up in crumpled paper, bubble gum wrappers, and chewed-up pencils. Mr. Jones, the high school’s long-serving janitor, didn’t care who or what got swept up.

 

“If you’d rather not discuss it, I’ll totally mind my own business,” Mara said with full understanding given how private she was about her own life.

 

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Dessa said quickly, an instant smile brightening her face. Donning her fuzzy gloves, she added, “Vraitheians are what I call my extended family.”

 

“I see.” Mara didn’t see. She had this weird idea that Dessa lived in a cult called the Vraitheians.

 

Once outside, winter’s cold air slapped Mara in the face and she had to blink back icy tears. The ground was crunchy with snow and laden with salt crystals to keep everyone from slipping.

 

Mara eyed the distance she’d need to cover to get to her truck and knew she would need to tread carefully. She’d bought the used Ford F-150 truck after the school district hired her and now, having experienced a New England winter where twenty inches of snow falling in two hours wasn’t unheard of, Mara knew she’d made a smart decision in purchasing the heavy-duty vehicle.

 

Her small two-bedroom, one-bathroom house was only a few blocks away. She eagerly looked forward to a warm fire, a hearty dinner with her daughter, and then a glass of wine after Finley fell asleep. Mara had a ton of work to do, namely drafting the school board rebuttal email, grading assignments, and sending notes to several students on alternate book selections.

 

However, she was mostly looking forward to spending time with Finley as well as her best friend from the military, Command Sergeant Major Hannah Atholms. Hannah, who was stationed at Fort Drum, New York, was coming to visit them next week. They’d been through so much together, it would be nice to see a friendly face.

 

“Earth to Mara,” Dessa said with a wry grin.

 

“Ah, sorry about that. My mind was a million miles away.” As Mara’s gaze fell on Dessa’s tangerine-colored Mini Cooper, a sense of worry filled her. “Can I offer you a ride home, Dessa? I have four-wheel drive.”

 

Dessa shook her head and pointed toward a running SUV parked next to the Mini Cooper.

 

“Vikk is picking me up.” With a twinkle in her eye, she added, “Come meet him.”

 

“I need to get home to Finley. Perhaps some other t—”

 

Before Mara could finish the sentence, the driver’s door opened and a man stepped out of the SUV and strode toward them. Even on a slippery parking lot, his steps were confident.

 

As Mara took him in, her ability to think straight evaporated into a thousand snowflakes.

 

He was incredibly tall with a chiseled jaw and a rugged five o’clock shadow. He was as tan as Dessa but instead of blond locks, he was blessed with a thick crown of curling chestnut hair. His lips, which were red with the cold, were full and sensual and very much deserving of being the subject of poetry. Mara was reminded of Byron’s poem, “She Walks in Beauty.”

 

Even through his black wool coat, she could tell that he was an Adonis. Why did he have to go and be an Adonis?

 

Mara did not blink as he approached.

 

Don’t gawk, Mara. Keep your mouth closed. No gaping.

 

The man was definitely hot enough to melt the polar ice caps. That said, Mara was shivering. While her Texas upbringing may have prepared her for encountering good-looking men, it had not prepared her for standing still in below-freezing weather.

 

“Good evening,” he said simply. His eyes were dark, almost black. Sinful. Sexy. A hypnotic grin grew on his face. She had an instant thought that he could read minds, but shook it off. How absurd.

 

“Hello.” Mara’s voice was calm though she had to fight to keep it that way. Dessa’s brother’s voice, which held the same confusing accent, was a deep baritone that could easily turn disinterested listeners into sudden admirers.

 

She reminded herself that she was not usually attracted to extremely good-looking men. They were like shooting stars; nice to look upon but never obtainable. What would she do with a shooting star?

 

Beside her, Dessa bounced into action. “Vikk, allow me to introduce you to my friend, Mara Eldress.”

 

✧✧✧

 

Friend? Vikk projected the thought into his sister’s RMO. The RMO—short for receptive mind orbit—was the Vraitheian channel for familial telepathic communication. That’s generous, he added.

 

Dessa widened her eyes and threw him a reply of, Knock-it-off, Vikk, along with, Not in front of the human.

 

While Dessa had talked almost nonstop about Mara Eldress for several months, he knew that they were not exactly friends. In fact, just reading Mara’s current body language, not to mention the red and gold rings encircling her aura, it was clear that Mara actively avoided his baby sister.

 

Vikk grinned. Mara looked ready to bolt. As Dessa made the introductions, she gestured up at Mara, as if she needed to distinguish whom exactly she was referring to. His sister was too energetic by half. No wonder the gorgeously tall woman was standoffish.

 

“Hello, Mara Eldress,” he said with a smile. Little puffs of white air escaped his lips.

 

Extending a gloved hand, he felt Mara accept it with her own gloved fingers.

 

✧✧✧

 

“Hello, Vikk Stravdas,” Mara said.

 

There was something like reassurance, even comfort, in his handshake. Something she didn’t know she needed until that moment. Vikk held her hand for a beat longer than normal, and Mara surprised herself by not pulling away.

 

Before the handshake, she’d been wishing she had ice skates so she could glide far, far away. Now, however…

 

She noted his facial expression, the interest written there, how he seemed to capture all of her with just one look. All at once, he lifted a masculine eyebrow, which accentuated his dark, sparkling eyes. How could dark eyes sparkle so much? Mara wondered. Then, biting down her tongue, she asked herself, How could his dark eyes enthrall me so quickly?

 

When Mara glanced away and spotted Dessa, the little librarian was grinning like a maniac. That was enough to zap Mara out of her dazed feeling.

 

Her chest felt like it had come loose and that something was unspooling out of her. She couldn’t deal with this right now. She needed to leave.

 

✧✧✧

 

Even without any movement, Dessa sensed Mara’s emotional withdrawal. She’d figured it might happen but she could not miss an opportunity for the Vikk and Mara to meet.

 

“Here.” Dessa shoved the canvas bags at Vikk. “They’re getting heavy.”

 

He took them without missing a beat.

 

“It was nice to meet you, Mara,” Vikk said as he shifted the canvas bags in his hands.

 

Every few months Dessa loaded him up with the newest bestsellers. Her brother was on the hunt for books that could be translated into Vraitheian that might also be turned into a feature film on their home planet, Vraithe.

 

Dessa, who had lived on Earth for several years now, started translating many of the novels herself, though she usually translated only young adult dystopian novels or erotic romance novels. After meeting Mara and discovering she wrote a military memoir, Dessa thought she would take a stab at translating a work of nonfiction.

 

Fighting for Her: A Soldier’s Struggle, became a surprise hit on Vraithe. Everyone was reading it, even at Taloncourt, the seat of the royal family. Dessa just wished she could tell Mara about it.

 

✧✧✧

 

Vikk watched as Mara carefully descended the steps.

 

“I’ll see you in two weeks, Dessa,” Mara said.

 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Vikk. Goodnight to you both.”

 

As Mara walked to her truck, got in, and started it up, Vikk could tell she’d briefly been under his spell but that it was now broken. He wasn’t disappointed. He’d rather she decide that she wanted to get to know him on her own accord versus it being the Vraitheian appeal. It was easy enough to attract human women, but he never let it grow into anything more than a light flirtation.

 

From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew Mara Eldress could never be a light flirtation.

 

There was a solid connection, even on his side, which was rare between a Vraitheian and an Earthling. He could feel the strings within his Vraitheian heartstrings tether outward, searching for her essence, seeking acceptance, permission, love. He called it back. Not yet, he told his lonely heart. Soon, and only if she agrees. Had Mara felt anything? Was there a tingle in her chest? Was that why she fled?

 

“I think that’s enough matchmaking for one evening, Dessa,” he said in their native language as they entered the warm SUV. He cranked up the heat.

 

He felt Dessa’s eyes on him as she pointedly asked, “Are you wearing the locket, Vikk?”

 

A Vraitheian locket helped block false heartstring connections. Without consciously thinking about it, he reached into his shirt to feel the warm locket pressed against his chest.

 

“You know I never take it off,” he said as he carefully drove out of the school’s parking lot, “but it isn’t foolproof, either.”

 

“Ah, so you felt a heartstring stirring? I thought you might,” Dessa said in a bubbly way. “Mara Eldress will come around.” She paused, then added, “Eventually. She’ll come around eventually.”

 

Vikk rolled his eyes as he steered the SUV onto a mostly snow-free highway. “You can’t force these things, Dessa.”

 

“I know,” Dessa said with a pout. “But, Mara has been through so much. I want to punch her ex in the face, and that’s saying a lot.”

 

True, Vikk thought as Dessa talked on. Vraitheians are not violent by nature.

 

“How is the movie version of her memoir coming along?” she asked.

 

Unbeknownst to Mara, her memoir was being made into a feature film on Vraithe. The hype surrounding it was off the charts, which meant the studio had given him carte blanche to produce and direct it, but things were not going as well as expected.

 

“Badly,” Vikk said with a slight groan. “Filming has commenced, but I think I need to redraft certain parts of the script. There are not enough who have had a meaningful experience with humans to do it justice.”

 

“Hmm,” Dessa mumbled under her breath. “I wish I had the capacity to help you. Too bad we can’t just ask for Mara’s help.”

 

His sister’s casual remark took hold and Vikk found himself contemplating it. Naturally, he wanted to produce a well-received feature film. Additionally, he needed to please the queen or she’d cut his portal privileges.

 

But now that he’d met Mara Eldress, he wanted nothing more than to do justice to her story.

 

Why not ask Mara directly?

 

As Vikk exited the highway, he drove slowly through a showy, holiday-lights-blaring neighborhood and let his mind wonder for a minute. His brain latched on something.

 

“Earlier, while we were standing on the doorsteps, did I hear correctly?” Vikk asked as he turned down Dessa’s street and navigated fresh mounds of plowed snow. “Everyone who works at the school is on a two-week break?”

 

Dessa smiled a knowing smile as they pulled into her driveway. “Your hearing is as impeccable on Earth as it is on Vraithe, dear brother.”

 

Vikk nodded as he contemplated his options. He knew what he had to do.

 

His chest squeezed and fingers flew back to his locket.

 

There was only one solution—and he had a strong feeling that the human woman who had activated his long-dormant Vraitheian heartstring was not going to like it one bit.