Page 25 of The Second Sight
“Kasinda,” he sang my name again.
His body pressed more insistently against mine, the thin barriers of our clothing doing little to disguise his desire. My legs parted for him without conscious thought. I wrapped my legs around his hips to pull him closer. But I knew there was another level of closeness that I desired more than any other.
“You are mine,” he whispered, his mouth hovering just above my neck. “As I am yours.”
Seven kissed the edge of my jaw before licking his way down to my neck. I felt the sharp points of his fangs graze my flesh. His fangs dug in, and he was on the verge of piercing skin?—
And woke with a violent gasp, my body jerking upright in bed.
Sunlight, not moonlight, streamed through my curtains. Morning. My t-shirt was twisted around my waist, the sheets damp with sweat. My heart pounded like I’d been running a 5K, and my skin felt hypersensitive, flushed with blood and lingering desire.
“Oh, fuck!” I whispered to my empty room, my voice sounding strange and hoarse. “Just a dream.”
The physical evidence between my legs was undeniable. My body still hummed with sensations that felt too real, and too vivid to be imagined. I pressed my thighs together, embarrassed by the persistent ache between them. I wondered how my subconscious had transformed fear into desire so completely.
On my nightstand, the reading glasses caught the light. They were more than readers. I stared at them, wondering what other truths they might reveal if I dared to put them on again. I wondered what Seven would show me if I met him tonight at the Black Rose Café. I knew myself, and I knew better. I didn’t run into danger. I stayed away from it. If a dream felt that intense, reality had to be too much for me to handle. I grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand and with a few taps on the screen…
BLOCKED!
Chapter
Ten
KASI
The bell above the Razzle Dazzle Magic Candle shop door jingled as I pushed it open. After last night, ordinary sounds felt like warnings. As I stepped inside my job, I felt the irony of working in a place like this. Why I worked here didn’t make much sense to the outside world, but it made sense to me.
My mother had worked here too, standing behind the same counter, breathing the same scented air, before she disappeared from my life. It was before I learned there might be a reason beyond ordinary human problems for her vanishing act. At first, I thought working here would bring me closer to her. The familiar scent of beeswax, essential oils, and incense should have been comforting. Instead, it made my stomach twist with longing for her. Then I grew up and realized it was just a job, a way to make money over the summer.
“There you are, baby!” Miss Ellen’s warm Creole accent floated from behind the counter where she arranged a display of black and red protection candles. Her yellow-tawny skin glowed in the candlelight. Her dark brown braids were pulled back into a neat bun. “I was beginning to worry you might not make it in today.”
I forced a smile that felt like stretching plastic across my face. “Sorry I’m late. I, um, didn’t sleep well.”
That was the understatement of the year. Between the terror of meeting a vampire and the disturbing erotic dream that followed, I’d barely slept at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Seven’s face in places they shouldn’t be.
Miss Ellen’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as she took in my appearance. I knew what she was seeing: the concealer that couldn’t quite hide the dark circles under my eyes, and the hair I’d barely managed to brush. My roots were jumping out of my scalp because I didn’t even remember to lay my edges down.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, child,” she said. Her voice was gentle but probing. “Everything alright?”
I tied the apron strings behind my back. “I just partied too hard on my birthday. You know how Brooklyn is. She insisted on making it a big night.”
“Twenty-one is a significant age,” Miss Ellen nodded, turning back to her display. “The threshold of true adulthood in many traditions. A time when certain gifts often manifest.”
I froze. The word “gifts” sent a jolt through my system. Seven’s voice echoed in my head: You’re not fully human, Kasinda Bacchar. You never have been.
“What kind of gifts?” I asked, my voice higher than normal.
Miss Ellen shrugged, seemingly unaware of my sudden tension. “Oh, just an expression, baby. Though my grandmama always said twenty-one was when people’s true nature starts to show itself.”
My hands trembled as I arranged a row of blue meditation candles on a shelf. True nature. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Miss Ellen would say something like that today, could it?
“Those go on the third shelf, honey,” Miss Ellen reminded me gently. I blinked, realizing I’d been standing motionless, staring at nothing while my mind raced.
“Right.” I moved the candles to their proper place, trying to focus on the simple, mundane task. Just a normal shift. Just a normal job. Just a normal human life.
For the next hour, I went through the motions of work. I dusted shelves, rang up a few customers, and organized the new shipments of essential oils. Every time the shop bell rang, I jumped, half-expecting to see Seven. My anxiety ratcheted higher with each false alarm. I couldn’t remember whether Brooklyn mentioned I had a job or where I worked. Last night was the clearest sexual dream I’d ever had, if that made sense. It didn’t make sense.
During a quiet moment when no customers browsed the shop, Miss Ellen handed me a cup of something warm and herbal-smelling. “Drink this,” she said in a tone that allowed no argument. “It’ll help settle your nerves and get you back to normal.”
