Swan Lake by L.B. Alexander
Re-Release date: September 15th, 2020
Synopsis:
And then, there was quiet.
Physically, I knew nothing had changed. My heart still raced. My legs still shook. My breaths were short and shallow, and my stomach continued to flip.
But there was an unmistakable hush, and I couldn't tell if that exquisite solace was sourced from my body or from his. It was as if I'd spent my entire life surrounded by white noise, and I was experiencing true, absolute silence for the first time.
My fearful body was not dancing to anxiety.
It was dancing entirely to arousal.
All April wants is a moment of quiet. But due to an ongoing struggle with mental illness, silence has become an elusive privilege she fears she'll never capture. An eating disorder has brought her burgeoning ballet career to a sudden halt, and a traumatic experience in a strict rehabilitation facility has rendered her more humble than ever. Now that she has returned to her native Southern California, April is content to conceal the dangerous half of herself she fears under a tenuous white mask of control.
But the facade is disrupted when April meets William - her older, mysterious, and disgraced new employer. She finds freedom in him, for like her, he is also two-natured. There's a mask he shows the world.
And a dark, true half he hides...
A novel in three acts.
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Excerpt
"Who are you?"
The rich, deep timbre of his voice, like the basso strings of an overture, activated a strange instinct within me, something primordial that almost urged me to dance again. It went beyond rational explanation, beyond intelligence, beyond thought. It was a mindless, unconditioned, purely physical reaction to an auditory stimulus--an electrifying, tingling command that spread throughout my entire body, apexed in the most hidden depths of my torso.
He'd spoken only three words to me, yet it felt like I had been summoned by biblical commandments. As automatic as jumping from the touch of fire, or salivating from hunger, I oriented myself in the direction of his voice and took three steps before I even realized it.
"April. Ekdahl," I replied once I found my voice, keeping my gaze fixed on the floor.
"And what the hell are you doing dancing in my office?"
My stomach sank even further--he had seen me making a fool of myself. Surely this meant I would be fired. I thought I would pass out from humiliation.
But a curious surprise kept me from launching fully into an anxiety attack--something unique about his voice. His speech was faintly accented by a language or culture I couldn't readily pinpoint. I locked my hands behind my back and straightened my posture to the best of my ability, but I was already trembling. I wouldn't be able to keep the panic restrained for much longer, for the chains were already beginning to rattle and splinter.
"Sorry, I... umm... I'm Ellen's new assistant, sir. I was hired this morning. She asked me to prepare your coffee and... drop off these documents for your signature."
If there was ever a time for me to sound confident and assured, it was now. So naturally, I sounded like a child.
It certainly didn't help that my shoes were lazily resting several feet away from me on what was surely an expensive rug.
I thought about gesturing to the table where I'd left the coffee and folders, but it felt as if some kind of force was keeping me anchored where I stood.
A few moments of silence passed between us.
"Do you always look at your feet when you talk, April?"
It didn't really sound like a question, but his hard voice had softened considerably. While not exactly friendly, there was a remote element of... humor? I couldn't be sure.
Automatically, I raised my head to meet his gaze.
And immediately, I wished I hadn't.
Mr. Wolfe was entirely... wolflike. Standing in a very well-tailored three-piece charcoal suit, he possessed the refined sophistication of an executive. And the hypnotic, dangerous beckoning of a mystical beast.
The rich, deep timbre of his voice, like the basso strings of an overture, activated a strange instinct within me, something primordial that almost urged me to dance again. It went beyond rational explanation, beyond intelligence, beyond thought. It was a mindless, unconditioned, purely physical reaction to an auditory stimulus--an electrifying, tingling command that spread throughout my entire body, apexed in the most hidden depths of my torso.
He'd spoken only three words to me, yet it felt like I had been summoned by biblical commandments. As automatic as jumping from the touch of fire, or salivating from hunger, I oriented myself in the direction of his voice and took three steps before I even realized it.
"April. Ekdahl," I replied once I found my voice, keeping my gaze fixed on the floor.
"And what the hell are you doing dancing in my office?"
My stomach sank even further--he had seen me making a fool of myself. Surely this meant I would be fired. I thought I would pass out from humiliation.
But a curious surprise kept me from launching fully into an anxiety attack--something unique about his voice. His speech was faintly accented by a language or culture I couldn't readily pinpoint. I locked my hands behind my back and straightened my posture to the best of my ability, but I was already trembling. I wouldn't be able to keep the panic restrained for much longer, for the chains were already beginning to rattle and splinter.
"Sorry, I... umm... I'm Ellen's new assistant, sir. I was hired this morning. She asked me to prepare your coffee and... drop off these documents for your signature."
If there was ever a time for me to sound confident and assured, it was now. So naturally, I sounded like a child.
It certainly didn't help that my shoes were lazily resting several feet away from me on what was surely an expensive rug.
I thought about gesturing to the table where I'd left the coffee and folders, but it felt as if some kind of force was keeping me anchored where I stood.
A few moments of silence passed between us.
"Do you always look at your feet when you talk, April?"
It didn't really sound like a question, but his hard voice had softened considerably. While not exactly friendly, there was a remote element of... humor? I couldn't be sure.
Automatically, I raised my head to meet his gaze.
And immediately, I wished I hadn't.
Mr. Wolfe was entirely... wolflike. Standing in a very well-tailored three-piece charcoal suit, he possessed the refined sophistication of an executive. And the hypnotic, dangerous beckoning of a mystical beast.
About the Author:
L.B. Alexander is an American author based in perpetually sunny California, specializing in high romance and women's fiction. An optimist at heart, and a true believer in happily ever afters, she strives to tell memorable, passionate stories that can intrigue, challenge, arouse and most importantly, inspire.
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