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Stolen Soulmate

Mary Catherine Gebhard
Chapters (66)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Keep Reading
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-One
  25. Twenty-Two
  26. Twenty-Three
  27. Twenty-Four
  28. Twenty-Five
  29. Twenty-Six
  30. Twenty-Seven
  31. Twenty-Eight
  32. Twenty-Nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-One
  35. Thirty-Two
  36. Thirty-Three
  37. Thirty-Four
  38. Thirty-Five
  39. Thirty-Six
  40. Thirty-Seven
  41. Thirty-Eight
  42. Thirty-Nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty-One
  45. Forty-Two
  46. Forty-Three
  47. Forty-Four
  48. Forty-Five
  49. Forty-Six
  50. Forty-Seven
  51. Forty-Eight
  52. Forty-Nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty-One
  55. Fifty-Two
  56. Fifty-Three
  57. Fifty-Four
  58. Fifty-Five
  59. Fifty-Six
  60. Fifty-Seven
  61. Fifty-Eight
  62. Fifty-Nine
  63. Sneak Peek
  64. Find Me
  65. Books by Mary Catherine Gebhard
  66. Acknowledgments

Cover

Stolen Soulmate

Dedication

For the girls who hide and the fate that finds them.

Keep Reading

Keep reading after you finish for an invite to Reaper House, and a sneak peek of a new Crowne Point novella.

One

STORY

My love story began when it ended. With a savage kiss and a confession whispered in the dark that wasn’t meant for me.

I was walking the corridors of Crowne Hall when I was grabbed, pulled into a dark room. Moments later I was shoved into the center of the room. Ms. Abigail Crowne’s “must be exactly 180 degrees” white tea fell off my sterling silver tray with a crash and shatter.

The smell of salt air floated in the darkness, white cloth draped over one-of-a-kind furniture, and gold frames glinted along the walls. I knew this room—it was designated for only select, trusted servants. This place, though shoved away and forgotten in the no-man’s land between Ms. Abigail and her sister Gemma’s wing, held millions’ worth of treasures.

The antique room.

The door slammed shut behind me, and I jumped, spinning to find the shadow of a tall man only inches from me.

“Excuse me—” I started, but then the mystery man seized my face, his mouth on mine, and words left me. Thoughts left me. All I knew were his lips—unyielding yet soft. So soft. Searching and commanding and consuming.

I wasn’t ever one to kiss strangers in dark rooms.

I wasn’t ever one to kiss, period. I’d come close…once, but in the end that boy made it clear he’d wanted only one thing.

This was what people talked about in fairy tales. It was the pop. It was fire. Something I didn’t know existed, a tether in my soul, came loose, and latched on to him. The silver tea tray fell from my hands with a clang to the floor, and I grasped my mystery kisser, trying to give him all that he was searching for.

He slammed me against the wall with a rattle, fingers tangling in my spirally, curly hair. He tasted like lollipops and whiskey.

Who was he? A guard? A cook? No one ever gave me a second look, save West, but his attention proved worse than none.

I dressed conservatively, not even showing my collarbone. Even though I could look other servant staff in the eye, I never raised my eyes. I couldn’t have people knowing anything about me, because then they would ask questions, like why I was here, why I didn’t have any family, why I dressed so conservatively.

Questions opened up doors to the past, and taking one look back meant disappearing into a darkness so black it consumed me.

My mystery kisser slanted his mouth, diving deeper, and I sighed into him, getting lost in whoever he was, letting questions vanish.