Excerpt of The Phoenix Charm by Helen Scott Taylor

She drew a slow, deep breath and stared through the dust
motes dancing in a shaft of sunlight at her divining dish.
Were the gods themselves tempting her to indulge? Surely
everyone was allowed one illicit pleasure—even she.

Tamsy sat up and watched with enigmatic gray eyes as
Cordelia gave a defiant huff and marched back to her seat.
She lit the three fat white candles floating in the silver,
water-filled dish. Within seconds, wide ribbons of smoke
rose before her.

Raising a hand, she sketched a magical symbol in the air.
The smoke stilled and glazed over into a mirror. Her
insides trembled expectantly while she concentrated on
Michael’s psychic signature and waited for an image of his
future to appear in the shiny surface.

She pressed her fingers to her lips as the picture became
clearer. When she peeped into Michael’s future, half the
time she saw him performing routine activities at the pub
he owned in a nearby village, the other half…

Her breath caught. She stared, too entranced to blink as an
image of Michael’s naked shoulders and lean back filled her
scrying surface. Muscles rippled beneath smooth skin when
he moved. His biceps clenched as he lifted a hand and
flicked back a handful of dark wavy hair from his face.

A woman appeared before him, an indistinct form clothed in
muted colors. When Cordelia watched Michael, she chose to
ignore the identity of his numerous human lovers. All her
attention focused on him.

Cordelia’s heart thudded as he prowled forward, faded jeans
riding low on his hips. Slowly, sensuously, he ran his hand
down his ribs, over his abdomen, flicked open the buttons
on his fly one by one with a little flourish of his hand
like a magician performing a trick. Although it was no
white rabbit he was about to pull out. As the last button
popped and the jeans slid lower, a small needy sound
escaped Cordelia’s lips.

Heat flashed across her flesh, gathered and swirled, a hot
whirlpool in her belly. Her sensual water nymph allure
flowed closer to her skin, preparing to draw in and capture
the man she desired. When the energies met the barrier of
the magical Celtic symbols painted on her skin, her
temperature shot up as though she were trapped in a
pressure cooker.

She flapped a hand in front of her face, fanning herself.
If she kept watching Michael, she would expire from lust.