Broken Warrior Read online Jocelynn Drake, Rinda Elliott (The Weavers Circle #1)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: The Weavers Circle Series by Jocelynn Drake
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
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Dane laughed. “You don’t want to be immortalized in fiction?”

Baer’s nose wrinkled and he shook his head. “I don’t trust him to properly capture my natural charisma or sharp wit.”

Clay couldn’t stop his snicker, and Baer flipped him off, but he did it with a smile.

“Your aunt also stopped by.” Baer tossed out.

Clay’s head popped up. “Flo?”

Baer grunted. “Just stopped in to say that she’s not going to be around for a bit. Apparently, her last Weaver is getting close. She or Jo will be back to tell us when to intercept him.”

Dane met Clay’s gaze with a worried one of his own. “Flo is the goddess of earth and fire, right? That means he’s going to be the Fire Weaver.”

“Yep. It’s gonna be a hot time!” Baer said with a laugh.

Dane shook his head. “I need to place an order for fire extinguishers. Lots of fire extinguishers.” Clay wanted to laugh too, but he was probably right.

“It is a good idea to dig around up here,” Baer continued, returning to their previous topic. “There could be all kinds of clues as to who we were, what we’ve done before. Maybe one of us kept a journal or something.”

“Now a journal would be awesome,” Clay said. “But I think the aunts would have shared something like that with us.”

“Why? They don’t seem too willing to share what happened in the past.” Baer yanked a sheet off something next to him, then started sneezing and coughing as a cloud of dust flew through the air. “This will be a dirty, dirty job. But damn, now my curiosity is piqued.” He opened the wardrobe he’d unveiled to find it empty. He put the salami in it and shut the door. “Don’t let me forget that’s where I put it.”

“If you forget that in there, I’m going to fucking beat you with it,” Clay growled. He couldn’t imagine the smell that would overrun the house if that piece of meat was left up in the hot attic.

“I think I’ll leave Dane to handle your meat,” Baer shot back.

Before Clay could think of anything to say, Dane was laughing hard enough to fall against a table, wiping tears from his eyes.

Baer smirked as he moved to the next piece of furniture. Clay looked at Dane, and his soul mate gave him a soft smile. They were both disappointed that they couldn’t continue, but Baer was good company, and this search was important.

Clay ran his hand down Dane’s arm and whispered, “Later.”

“It’s a date,” Dane replied with a wink.

The three of them began going through the furniture. One by one, gorgeous pieces were revealed, and Clay couldn’t wait to return some of them to places of honor downstairs where they belonged. These things deserved to be out in the light and not under sheets in a dusty attic.

It didn’t take long for them to realize that most of the pieces were empty. Probably had been easier to move that way.

All except one heavy trunk Dane found tucked in a corner. He called them over, excitement filling his voice.

It was locked, and before Clay had time to figure out how to jimmy it, Baer was hitting the lock with a hammer. Where he got the hammer, Clay had no idea, but he quickly jumped out of the way. Baer had the lock broken in no time.

They opened the trunk and saw…clothes.

“Look at these babies,” Baer said, holding up a pair of acid-washed jeans. “Can you say eighties?” He pulled out a pair of checkered sneakers and snorted.

Dane started digging through the clothes. “There’s something else down here. Some old paperbacks and a shaving kit.” He pulled out a frame and turned it over. “Holy shit.”

Clay stared at the image in the frame, his breath frozen in his chest. He reached out and took the picture, his mouth hanging open.

Six men stood in the shot that looked as if it had been taken in the backyard of the plantation. Three of them were easily recognizable. There were differences. The redhead had short hair and no beard. The one who resembled Grey had black hair to his shoulders.

But Clay could hardly look away from himself. Because it was him. The hair was different, the clothes were ones he’d never wear now, but that face was the same one he saw in the mirror. It was unbelievable.

“You look the same. Do you think it’s been like that with every incarnation? It’s incredible.” Dane said, awe lacing his voice.

“And now we know what the other three look like.” Baer took the frame. “I look good in short hair.” He brushed his shoulder-length hair back. “This guy’s a giant. Sheesh.” He pointed to the man in the middle who towered over the others. He was a tall black man with a square jaw.


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