This book is being edited and revised extensively.
Twin Flames by Cynnara Tregarth and Sharyn Tremayne
Blurb: The Twins, Synthia and Sharyn Tremayne are forced to tell a story from each of their past lives before an audience at Ambrosia Tavern. For each of them, they tell a story of love and passion that ended.
However, what they speak offends many, and gets many thinking about what could be if given the chance.
For Synthia, it means one night with a heartmate that she thought was gone. For Sharyn, it means a night with two men who attract her thoughts and attentions.
Sharyn stared at the gilt-edged invitation Hermes had delivered moments earlier in disbelief.
Rena Kai respectfully requests your presence at Ambrosia Tavern tonight to celebrate the blessed Sabbat of Imbolc. Special entertainment has been arranged. I look forward to seeing you…bear in mind severe consequences await those who refuse my gracious invitation.
::Did you receive an invitation for Rena’s Imbolc celebration as well, sismine?:: she asked her twin Synthia via mindlink.
::I did.:: Her twin’s voice sounded slightly muted as if she was trying to control her emotions between them. It was a waste of time, she knew what Synthia was feeling, and she was not going to let it just slide by.
::You are so dead!::
Synthia huffed on the link. ::This is your fault. You’re the one who got us into this mess!::
::I am not!:: Sharyn retorted.
::Are so! You picked the fight with Set. Ergo this is your fault.:: She could sense Synthia’s smirk and somehow, Sharyn knew her sister was somehow right, yet wrong.
::Alright so maybe being forced to entertain at Ambrosia is my fault…yet you are the one who threatened to tell Rena’s story to the tavern. And look where that got us! We have to tell a story from one of our many lives, wear an outfit from said life , not to mention we have to use glamour so we looked just like we did in that life!:: Sharyn stomped her foot as she stripped off her clothes. She was not happy about this, but there was no way out of what was demanded of them. They had tried, and had been threatened with more punishment if they continued. Punishment Rena-style was so not acceptable. The last time they had been punished by that woman they had made a pact to never get that out of line. Ever.
::Stop your whining and get ready. Rena wants us there a bit early.:: Synthia ordered before severing the communication between them. Sharyn growled at the invitation in her hand and tossed it on her bed as she strode to her closet. A rainbow of colors greeted her as she flung the doors open. Satins, silks, leathers, and linens…all perfect replicas of clothes she’d worn in her past lives. Trailing a hand over the garments, reveling in the feel of the different textures, she realized there was only one story worth telling.
A red and gold linen choli and a matching skirt joined the dreaded invitation on the bed. A red Yelek of lightweight brocade, embroidered in gold was laid with reverence beside the other items. She stood silently staring at the items, remembering. The faint footsteps of an approaching nymph broke her reverie.
“Nyara, draw a bath. Use the cinnamon and jasmine oils. When you have done that, would you mind finding some jasmine blossoms to weave into my hair?”
With a final glance at the clothes on the bed, she prepared herself for a long night. I don’t think there’s anything that can make this night better. Not when we’re going to be telling the stories of our lives.
* * * The darkened streets were practically deserted, a rare occurrence on Imbolc Night. The westerly winds and stormy weather kept most of the city’s inhabitants indoors. Only the brave, or desperate, braved the inclement weather. A drunken man stumbled down the street, searching for another bar to visit. The stillness was broken when two women appeared as if from thin air at the end of the street.
“You’re not going to tell the story of the Djinn are you?” Synthia asked in a tone bordering on pity.
Sharyn Tremayne turned to glare at her twin sister. “Like yours is any better? The Oracle of Delphi?”
“At least, I’m not trying to get back into my father’s good graces.” Synthia rolled her eyes as she spoke.
“No, you’re kissing Apollo’s ass. And that’s just wrong on so many levels.” She shuddered.
Synthia sighed then responded, “Basically, we’re both kissing ass and hoping to come away with a bit of pride intact.”
Sharyn arched an auburn eyebrow. “What pride? If it didn’t mean being on Rena’s shit list, I wouldn’t be here.”
“True. Might as well get it over with.” Synthia pushed open the ornate doors and stopped short. “By the goddess!”
“What?” Sharyn peered over her sister’s shoulder. “Thor’s Hammer!”
“How many pantheons are here?” Synthia whispered in a horror-filled tone.
Sharyn scanned the room. “I see Norse, Celtic, Greek, Egyptian, Hindu. Thor’s Hammer! Darius and some of the other Djinn are here.”
“Come on!” Synthia grabbed her sister’s arm and pushed through the guests to the bar. “Rena! What the hell is going on? Why is everyone here?”
“It’s Imbolc,” Rena replied, setting two mugs in front of the girls. “Your costumes are wonderful.”
“Forget our costumes!” Sharyn said. “Why is everyone here?”
“I sent invitations, and like yours, they all carried the reminder that not to appear wouldn’t be wise.” The bartender nodded to them before turning away to take care of other orders. Ambrosia tavern was special, and Rena even more so. To argue with Rena was to argue with a power that even the gods feared.
The sisters groaned and sank onto the barstools behind them. This was much worse than they thought it would be. Had they known Rena planned on inviting all pantheons and all the major players in their various incarnations, they’d have done anything to get out of it.
“Tell me…would you have chosen this particular story if you’d known everyone would be here?” Synthia asked, passing her sister a mug filled with mead.
“Not a chance. As it is, I know there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“Cheers.” They clinked the mugs together before drinking the contents. Sharyn drained her mug and held it out for a refill. Rena returned, took the mug, her gaze compassionate but at the same time stern. Then handed the refill back to Sharyn’s waiting hand.