Lorelei’s head was spinning. Calliope wanted to name her as her successor? But she had just met her!
She wasn’t even sure she wanted to remain at the Temple of the Muse once her training was complete. While it would be great to become the next Calliope and train other young Muses in the art of epic poetry, it wasn’t her real dream. No, she wanted to become the Muse to a poet, an author . . . or maybe even a playwright. Anything that had to do with writing, she loved. She wanted to be someone’s inspiration, help spur creativity—not hang out in a Temple for the rest of her life.
There was a knock on the door. She placed her hairbrush on her vanity table and wandered over to answer the door.
Darien stood in the hall. She flushed as she realized that she was dressed only in her pajamas—a satin tank and shorts set.
He eyed her appraisingly. “Is my sister here?”
“No,” Lorelei said, disappointed. She had been half-hoping he was there to see her, but of course it made sense that he would be looking for his twin.
“Good.” He took one step forward and pulled her into his arms. She looked up at him, startled. His mouth came down on hers. She froze, unsure what was happening. She gradually relaxed in his embrace and began to kiss him back.
His lips were firm and unyielding. She felt a surge of excitement. She reached up to wind her arms around his neck, longing to run her hands through the dark hair that curled at his neck.
He pulled away entirely too soon. “I’m sorry, I’ve been dying to do that since I saw you,” he breathed.
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