Page 13 of Lucien

“Because even knowing what they’ll look like, I want to see them for myself.”

Luc tensed.Even knowing what they’ll look like?What did that mean? Luc had never run into this human before; he was sure of it. He would remember if he had.

He would remember every single second of it.

Luc raised a hand and lifted off the sunglasses, keeping his eyes on Jamie as he did. The youth sucked in a sharp breath at the reveal, but there was no hint of fear or disgust in his dark gaze. He only smiled that charming, open smile. “There he is.” He bit into his lower lip. “Man, you’re a fox.”

Huh. “You’re not frightened.”

Jamie shot him an exasperated look. “Listen, I don’t care about the eyes. Or the fangs, for that matter. I know what you are.” He shrugged. “At least, I think I do.”

Luc resisted the urge to flip the table in frustration. “Explain,” he gritted out. “Please.”

Jamie took a swig of beer, seemingly for courage, then set the bottle down and met Luc’s gaze head-on. “I get visions. And I’ve been getting them of you. For years.”

Luc cocked his head. “You have the Sight?”

Jamie flicked at his bottle cap. “Whatever you want to call it. But I get visions of the future sometimes. Usually in dreams, but it’s been known to happen when I’m awake.”

Oh, now that was interesting. Very interesting. Luc had met someone like that before, a very long time ago. They hadn’t seen the future, but they’d been able to glimpse into a person’s past with a touch. There were supposedly other humans out there with different types of gifts beyond the norm.

Their blood was supposed to be incredibly delicious.

Let’s take a taste and find out, his monster wheedled. Luc ignored it. “You’re a seer.”

Jamie shrugged. “And you’re a vampire. Or some other monster I don’t have a name for yet.”

Luc was at a loss. All his plans for easing Jamie in, for going slow, for hiding the monster within—and here Jamie already knew Luc wasn’t human. Had known it before they’d even met. Before Luc could fully register that idea, the bartender approached with two whiskeys. She smiled at them both as she dropped them off. “You all looked like you could use these.”

Jamie turned his smile to her. “Thanks, Monique.”

Luc shifted, barely containing a surly growl. He wanted that smile focused back on himself; he didn’t want it given to anyone else. That smile washis.He cleared his throat, and Monique caught his eyes, her hand jostling the whiskey out of its glass in her surprise. “Whoa.”

Jamie glanced between them, then gave Luc a cheeky grin. “Oh, the contacts? He’s an extra in a play. It’s a real goth production. Demons and witches and shit.”

“Oh, dang.” She gave Luc an appraising look. “That’s pretty cool. Gotta love the arts, man.” She tossed them both a sardonic salute and turned back to the bar.

Luc was frozen again, wondering what exactly had just happened. He’d been outed as a…thespian?

Jamie laughed in delight at the look on Luc’s face, then slammed back his shot of whiskey, gesturing for Luc to do the same. “Come home with me, vampire. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

It was a quaint little house, painted a deep orange, with sharp little stabby plants in every corner. Luc eyed one particular cactus at the front gate, an impressive specimen.

Jamie looked from it to him. “You like my saguaro?”

“It’s quite…phallic.”

Jamie laughed. He had a way of doing that with his whole person, throwing his head back, chest shaking. Luc rarely saw someone so…sincere…with their reactions. So unstudied.

“We didn’t have to go far,” Luc remarked as they entered the little house. They’d barely walked two blocks to get there.

“Yeah,” Jamie said, tossing his keys carelessly on a table in the entryway. “It made sense to be close to the bar.”

“Is it that important to you, proximity to watery beer and tacky art?”

Young Jamie didn’t react to the jibe other than to laugh again. “I live with Monique,” he explained. “She owns the bar; she owns the house. And don’t let her hear you call her art tacky. She prefers…eclectic.”

He led Luc into a cozy living room, one clearly decorated for comfort rather than style. Luc kept his lip from curling but just barely. Not to his taste at all—all the furniture seemed more or less thrown together haphazardly. There was even a small fireplace, although Luc couldn’t imagine anyone needing a fire in this heat.

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