Page 16 of The Second Sight
I chuckled. “No, silly.”
“Well, how do you know my name?” She asked.
“I saw your name on the debit card you used at the bar.” I
“Oh.”
“I will call you Kasi, and you will call me Seven.” It was a command, and I believe she knew as much.
“Seven,” she tested my name. “Are there... more of you? Vampires, I mean.”
“Many,” I replied honestly. “Chicago has one of the largest vampire populations in North America. We’re particularly fond of large cities. It’s easier to feed without notice, easier to blend in.” I paused, considering how much to tell her.
“That makes sense.”
“We have an entire hidden society.”
Her eyes widened slightly at this information. I could see her trying to process it, rearranging her understanding of the world to accommodate this new reality. She was remarkably composed for someone whose fundamental beliefs about existence had just been shattered.
“Why are you so fixated on how I saw you?” she said after a moment.
I shook my head. “Those glasses, they only work for those with supernatural blood. An ordinary human putting themon would see nothing unusual. Perhaps slightly clearer vision, nothing more. The fact that they showed you the truth means you’re not entirely human, Kasi Bacchar.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she insisted, though I detected a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “My parents are human. I’m human. There’s nothing special about me.”
“Are you sure about that?” I challenged softly. “Have you never experienced anything unusual? Dreams that came true? Intuitions that proved correct? Strange reactions to certain places?”
A flicker of something crossed her beautiful face before she suppressed it.
“I’m just a normal college student,” she repeated, though with less conviction than before.
I didn’t press further. She wasn’t ready to acknowledge whatever she was hiding. That was fine. I had time. An eternity of it, in fact.
“Perhaps you’re right,” I conceded, though we both knew I didn’t believe it. “Perhaps it’s just the glasses.”
I stepped back further, releasing her completely but maintaining eye contact. The mystery of what she was and why she looked so much like my Basirah would have to wait. I’d frightened her enough for one night.
The change in my decision was instantaneous. Standing there looking at her, I suddenly couldn’t resist the urge to confirm my suspicions. In a movement too quick for her human eyes to track, I closed the distance between us and pulled her against me. Her body went rigid with shock as I wrapped one arm around her waist and tangled my other hand in her hair, tilting her head to expose the smooth column of her neck. I wasn’t going to bite her. I’d just fed, after all, but I needed to get closer. I needed to breathe her in. To know for certain what my instincts were screaming at me.
I buried my face in the curve where her neck met her shoulder and inhaled deeply. The scent hit me like the smell of grass after rainfall. Then the notes of honey, apricot and peach beneath it all, a scent of something ancient and regal. Something I hadn’t encountered in over a century.
Kasi trembled in my arms. Her body was caught in a curious human tension between fear and arousal. Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath my lips as I dragged them across her skin, not kissing, not biting, just feeling. Tasting the air around her and trying to control my growing arousal.
I pulled back abruptly, holding her at arm’s length. Her golden eyes were wide, pupils dilated, with breaths coming in short gasps. The conflicting emotions on her face would have been amusing in any other circumstance. Fear, yes, but there was also confusion and a reluctant, instinctual attraction she was clearly struggling against.
“I know what you are,” I said, certainty resonating in my voice. “But I believe you’re not ready to hear it yet.”
“You have dreams that sometimes come true,” I said, watching her eyes widen in shock. “Maybe not often, maybe not always reliable, but enough that you’ve learned to pay attention to them.”
Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, confusion and fear warring on her smooth face. “How could you possibly know that?” She finally said.
“Because I know things. You’re not fully human, Kasi Bacchar. You never have been.”
She shook her head violently, alcohol and shock making her movements uncoordinated. “No. That’s not—you’re making this up. You’re in my head somehow. Reading my mind.”
“Vampires can’t read minds,” I said. “We have enhanced senses, strength, speed, but not telepathy. I know these things about you because they’re characteristic of your kind.”
Her eyes tightened with suspicion. “If what you’re saying is true, how do you know so much about my kind? I’m not a vampire.”
