Page 18 of Going Viral for Christmas
Oh, God!Stop, Ava.
“Ava, you okay?” Shirley asks, yanking me from my spiral.
Thankfully, I recover quickly and nod. Years of moderating Q&As while crumbling internally have made me a professional.
Soren’s watching me even closer now, like he’s seeing beyond the veil. His expression softens. “You know, Ava. Showy banter aside…” His tone holds no heat, but something startlingly sincere. “When I readThe Lumberjack’s Love Lettersafter that vampire video I did, I actually stayed up half the night finishingit.”
“Soren, it’s not like you to roast the same book twice. My lumberjack must’ve made quite the impression on you.”
“He did. The ending—phew.” He gives a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, and for a few seconds, he’s not Soren Pembry, sword-wielding sex symbol. He’s a man talking about a book that hit him somewhere deep. “It made me realize that the world could use more heroes like yours.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I mean, men who fight with their hearts instead of their fists, who believe in things like love and that it can conquer anything. Men who make good on their promises and show up—despite the odds. Despite everything.”
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “What realm did I just cross into?”
Soren chuckles. “I’m being completely genuine. I swear on the Dagger Daddy Fan Club.”
A wave of high-pitched screams rings out.
My mouth forgets how to form words. Whatever that was, it wasn’t for the crowd. It wasn’t for content.
That was for me.
I’m utterly unprepared for it.
I will my pulse to calm down, and the flush in my cheeks not to give me away.
“Oh. My. God.” Shirley clutches her mic like it’s the bouquet at a wedding. “You two are the swooniest thing this convention has ever seen.”
Soren’s eyes lock on mine. “I certainly hope so.”
Something in the air changes. Ifeelit in my spine. In my knees. In the places I shouldn’t.
Someone yells, “Ava Bell is a Sword Whore.”
Soren smirks at the crowd. “You have to buy the special edition for that scene.”
I roll my eyes. Except, I’m smiling.
The panel ends in a standing ovation. Book bloggers rush the stage. People wave copies of our books. Soren autographs a leather-bound spell book someone shoved in front of him. I pose with a woman dressed as my main character, complete with tinsel in her hair.
It’s insane. It’s magical. And I’m completely overstimulated.
Slipping backstage to catch my breath, I hide behind the stack of swag boxes, trying to slow my pulse.
“You okay?”
Soren appears, one hand on that stupid sword, the other grazing over the thick stubble on his jaw. He leans against the wall, his silver eyes start trying to decode me.
Good luck with that.
I plant my hands on my hips and nod. “Yeah. Why?”
“You ran off.” Soren continues watching me.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
