Psychic Awakening: A Dragon Shifter LitRPG Harem Psychic Thriller (Primus Vitae Book 1)

by Terrance Thorndyke

  Psychic Awakening

  Primus Vitae Book 1

  By

  Terrance Thorndyke

  Copyright © 2018 by Terrance Thorndyke

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Art Gallery

  Chapter One

  Unicycling had seemed like a funny gimmick when Wilburn Graves had first taken up, a way to potentially make some much needed friends in high school. Zipping through the quad of the University of Houston, hopping up on and cycling down the length of a garden railing to avoid a crowd of sorority girls, earning applause from several students and even a professor as he leapt off the end and continued on his way, he admitted to himself that this had been one of his better ideas. A few years ago his faulty teenage logic had figured that a unicycle would only cost half as much as a bike and require half the upkeep. It turned out to have been about the same and a considerable amount of his funds had been poured into the heavily customized model he now rode to class.

  The unicycle thing had not worked at all in high school. Despite being attractive, intelligent, and reasonably athletic, actually communicating effectively with people and making connections was a skill that had eluded Wilburn his whole life. Nothing he’d done had ever worked. Face to face? He got tongue tied. Written notes? His handwriting turned illegible. Signing? He’d freeze. The closest he really came was gaming online, shouting into a headset with his cousin on the other end, and that only worked for short periods of time. It was as if, rather than getting better, he’d get worse. Nothing he did or tried ever worked.

  Or it hadn’t until a month ago when he’d moved into an apartment with three other students and started attending the University of Houston. Wilburn had suddenly found himself actually able to talk to people. In full, complete sentences! And the unicycle thing made him cool and eccentric now instead of extremely nerdy. Though he definitely was still that.

  He couldn’t put his finger on what had changed. Almost it seemed as if nothing had. Except that, and he could only barely remember the sensation now, it had felt as if there had been a faint buzzing in the back of his head whenever he tried to talk to someone. It wasn’t enough to completely disrupt his life but it was strong enough that friendships had been hard to form and relationships with girls were right out.

  That was something he was eager to change. In fact, he made an extra wide circuit around campus in an effort to run into Zuha Frost. She was beautiful, a girl of mixed Afghani and American heritage who dominated the girls’ soccer team. Every morning she was up exercising before everyone else, regardless of whether or not there was practice. Zuha literally went the extra mile, jogging around campus in a route that Wilburn had, without meaning to, committed to memory.

  He rounded the corner, hoping that today might just be the day he worked up the courage to talk to her when she stopped for her water break at the fountain, and froze. There are many things you can do on a unicycle—coming to a complete full body stop is not one of them. Even remaining in place required a certain degree of back and forth movement to maintain balance. But Wilburn completely froze and an instant later toppled over, spilling across the unforgiving concrete and acquiring a road rash on his left arm.

  He groaned, and got up, blinking and looking at his bloody appendage. It looked a lot worse than it was, he was sure. Scrapes were something he was well acquainted with from all the times he’d fallen while trying to learn to ride. Nothing was broken, so he looked back to the sight that had made him freeze, not entirely sure he wasn’t losing his mind.

  A snow leopard stood on its hind legs, wearing athletic shorts and a sports bra. A very feminine snow leopard, with curving hips and a bust that strained against the confines of the bra. In fact, the snow leopard had more in common with a human than it did its animal counterpart. It eyed him with concerned curiosity, lifting up a water bottle and spraying Gatorade into her open mouth, before swaying over to him like grace incarnate.

  “Are you okay?” she asked with a familiar, slightly accented voice.

  “Zuha?” Wilburn asked. “Zuha Frost?”

  The snow leopard-woman smiled at him, flashing impressive fangs. “You don’t sound like you’re sure, Wilburn.”

  There was a buzzing in his head. An achingly familiar buzzing. It pressed upon Wilburn’s brain like vibrating cotton and the image of the feline features melted away, leaving him staring at the angelic, dusky face of a very human Zuha.

  He shook his head. “Thought I was seeing things for a moment there.”

  Real concern crossed her face. “I didn’t think you hit your head. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, yeah I’m f-fine. J-just…g-g-g-g-guess that fall messed me u-u-up-p-p-p….” Wilburn’s eyes widened in horror as the stuttering took over. No! He was through with this. He was cured. Better. College was a fresh start and he was now talking with the girl he’d been trying to ask out since he got here. What the hell was wrong with him?

  She giggled. “Here, let me help you up.”

  He knew she was strong—her workout attire left very little to the imagination and everything on display was seriously toned—but he hadn’t expected her to be strong enough to nearly lift him off his feet with just one arm as she righted him before his stuttering tongue could protest. It was almost enough to distract him from the vague sensation of silky fur against his skin where her bare arm touched his.

  “Th-th-thanks,” he said, cringing.

  She gave him a little pout. “You sure you’re all right?”

  He gave a nod, wanting nothing more than to just crawl into a hole and die. He was supposed to be over this. This was his moment, his chance—she still had her arm looped around his for crying out loud! And his tongue felt like it was swelling in his mouth, preventing him from saying anything.

  “If you’re sure then,” she said, and let her arm slip from his.

  “I thought I saw a putty tat!” came a voice from behind them, making Wilburn jump.

  Suha’s pout turned into a full-on scowl. “Demetrius.”

  The young man coming toward them was attractive like the flash off a knife’s blade, sharp and lean and lethal. He walked with the kind of confidence Wilburn had always been envious, and slightly resentful of, as if the entire world was his to command. Dark haired and pale eyed, he wore clothes that, at first glance didn’t seem out of the ordinary, but which flattered him so well that they had to be tailored to his lean frame.

  A pair of beautiful blondes followed behind him, dressed in tiny miniskirts and blouses that opened low enough that their impressive breasts were almost spilling out. Neither spoke, and though their attention was focused on Zuha, they moved as if they instinctively knew where Demetrius was and how best to orbit him.

  The smile Demetrius gave Zuha was all edge as his eyes darted
over to take in Wilburn. “This guy bothering you?”

  Zuha rolled her eyes. “Not nearly so much as you are.”

  Demetrius waved his hand, as if dismissing her words. “You wound me. I’ve got a place in my House just for you, you know. All you have to do is ask.” His eyes went back to Wilburn and then lowered to his bloody arm. “Of course, I won’t offer a red bouquet, but I think you can do much better than street meat.”

  Zuha’s eyes went to each of the blondes. “Funny. I could say the same thing about you. Did you hit up a strip club the second you got into town?”

  Demetrius’s eyes flashed. “Still that wicked tongue. Don’t worry, I know how to make your kitty purr.”

  He reached into his pocket and produced a plastic baggy full of chopped up green leaves. Wilburn looked around nervously. He didn’t care how much money Demetrius had, flashing a bag of weed around was a good way to get arrested and he had no intention of going to jail.

  “Don’t you dare open that,” Zuha hissed.

  The buzzing sensation that had been pressing in on his brain vanished and with it, so did Zuha’s human appearance. Once again, where she had stood, was a snow leopard woman. Her ears were back and her shockingly blue eyes were wide.

  Demetrius’s smile widened and he popped open the bag, mock-singing, “What’s new pussy cat, oh-whoa-whoa….”

  Zuha’s feline eyes dilated and she sucked in air through her nose and mouth simultaneously. Her whole world seemed to become centered around that bag, struggling with herself as she scooted forward, drawing her face closer and closer to Demetrius’s outstretched hand, which was holding the open bag. When her face was only inches away, Demetrius turned his hand over, dropping the bag on the ground.

  Zuha followed, inhaling deeply and beginning to rub her face against the opening.

  Wilburn heard something and glanced around to find several passersby gawking and giggling. None of them seemed as shocked as they should be though, seeing leopard woman. Could they only see Zuha, like she had always appeared to him?

  Wilburn had no idea what was going on, but Demetrius’ cat jokes suggested that he could see Zuha’s snow leopard form too. What was more, Wilburn had a good idea what was in the bag. Demetrius hadn’t brought weed; he’d brought catnip.

  “The hell is your problem?” Wilburn demanded, before he could think better of it. He snatched the baggie out from beneath Zuha’s face, nearly getting clawed as she lazily swung a hand at him and rolled over, belly up on the ground. The instant he closed the baggie, she stopped where she was.

  “Asshole,” she hissed up at Demetrius.

  “Careful, Kitty,” he said to her, but now those sharp eyes were fixed unerringly on Wilburn. “Your mask is slipping.”

  The buzzing feeling returned, pressing in on Wilburn’s brain again. He shook his head, trying to fight it off. It didn’t work and a second later Zuha was crouching on the ground looking very human once again.

  “You should mind your own business,” said Demetrius, and this time there was no doubt that he was talking to Wilburn.

  “Sh-sh-shut up-p-p,” Wilburn managed, not quite snapping. His brain whirled with comebacks and retorts, but they all muddled together and blurred, becoming useless things that would become clear only later when they were no longer useful.

  “Go back to your room and study,” Demetrius said suddenly, and there was something in his voice that drove the words him, digging them deep into Wilburn’s brain. They sliced through the buzzing fuzz, the clearest thoughts he’d had all day.

  Going back to his room to study seemed like a really good idea. He hadn’t really understood his algebra homework all that well. Going over it one more time to make certain everything was perfect would be worth the late points. The professor would appreciate the effort and he didn’t really want to be in class anyway. He’d only come out early for the chance to talk to Zuha…Zuha!

  The injection of Demetrius’s command lessened, pushed back. But it seemed to tangle in the haze around his Wilburn’s brain, caught so that he couldn’t push it all the way out like it should go. “No,” he said, voice hoarse with effort. “No, I need…Zuha…not….”

  Demetrius’s eyes widened and Zuha stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. Not at him, Wilburn realized, but at Demetrius.

  “No wonder you only keep bimbos,” she cackled. “Anyone with a brain can resist you!”

  Demetrius’s cool demeanor vanished, his face reddening with anger. “No they can’t. I said, you want to go to your room and study!”

  The words sent the force Wilburn had been pushing against thrusting back, slicing through his defenses to take root deep within his brain. Studying was a really good idea. Way better than standing around with this asshole. The only reason to stay was Zuha and he couldn’t even talk to her. Besides, there was an algebra test at the end of the week. He really needed to make sure that he understood how to solve those equations they’d gone over last class.

  Without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving Demetrius, his blonde flunkies, Zuha, and his unicycle where they were. He was vaguely aware of Zuha saying something to his back but she sounded really far away and he was focused. He had his priorities and at the top of them was studying for that algebra test. He might even be able to qualify for a scholarship if he could keep his grades up.

  He’d actually made it several blocks, completely lost in his hyper-focused thoughts, before a pair of arms grabbed him from behind and he was yanked off the sidewalk into a white van. He had a glimpse of a pair of dull-eyed, muscular men and a dark-skinned girl with crazy pink hair before the door closed and everything went dark.

  Chapter Two

  Wilburn awoke with the taste of blood on his tongue.

  The room he was in was blindingly white and stank of urine and disinfectant. And it was cold. Part of that, he realized, was because he was covered by a very thin sheet and wearing a paper gown. Bits of machinery next to him began beeping and he realized he was in a hospital. What had happened?

  He brought a hand to his lips. Apart from the taste of blood there was a phantom sensation of lips against his, as if he had been kissed very, very thoroughly and very often. He could almost feel a small, feminine tongue still caressing his own. Where had that come from? Sad as it was to admit, he’d never kissed anyone before. How on earth would he even know what it felt like?

  “Oh good, you’re awake.”

  He pulled himself from his reverie to discover an older woman in a nurse’s uniform stepping into his room.

  “How are we feeling today, Mr. Graves?”

  Actually, he felt great. His arm didn’t even sting anymore. Glancing at it, he found that there was no sign at all of his tumble from the unicycle. His unicycle! He’d just left it lying there with Zuha and that Demetrius asshole. Was she okay? Was his unicycle okay?

  Then it dawned on him. If his arm was completely healed, just how long had he been unconscious in this hospital room? “What day is it?”

  The nurse gave him a gentle frown. “Today is Tuesday.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. It was still the same day.

  “You were brought to the hospital on Saturday,” she went on. “And you have been in and out of consciousness since. You were having terrible nightmares so the doctor gave you a sedative to help you rest and recover. It seems to have worked. You are particularly lucid right now.”

  He had lost an entire week? “Wh-what happened?”

  The nurse’s frown deepened. “We were hoping that you could tell us.”

  “What can you tell me?” Wilburn asked. “How did I get here?”

  “I really can’t—”

  “Please,” he interrupted. “Please tell me. I need to know.”

  Something in his mind squeezed when he spoke, ejecting something from him and injecting it into the nurse. He felt it push its way inside of her brain and spread out until it connected with something he had n
o name for. His own brain felt lighter, like he was carrying less weight in his skull. It would have been disconcerting if he hadn’t been distracted by the sudden shift in the nurse’s demeanor.

  Whereas before there had been an edge of wariness about her, now she seemed far more open, and was nodding her head in agreement. “Of course, you do, poor thing. I don’t know what all you’ve been through but the police are waiting to talk to you as soon as you’re up for it and you shouldn’t have to endure that not knowing anything.”

  The police? What did the police—wait. Hadn’t he been—

  “You were grabbed off the street a week ago,” the nurse said, interrupting his thoughts. “No one knew where you were and we still don’t know what all was done to you. You seem healthy according to every test the doctor’s run. More than healthy, truth be told. A woman dropped you off out front and someone anonymously paid for your hospital bill. This, believe it or not, is one of our luxury suites. That’s why you have the room to yourself.”

  A woman had found him? “Did the woman leave her name? Or any way for me to get in touch with her?”

  The nurse shook her head. “I’m afraid not. She was African American and had pink hair, if that helps.”

  Wilburn tried to get more out of her but she seemed to have honestly told him everything she knew and no amount of questioning or prodding could. His aunt and uncle had been by to check on him and the police had made several visits, but nobody had any idea who had grabbed him or why.

  When he did eventually speak to the police, they were closed mouthed, giving him vague or unsatisfying answers to every question he asked while questioning him so hard and thoroughly Wilburn began to think that they were under the impression that he had kidnapped himself. He tried to repeat what he’d done with the nurse, squeezing that intangible part of his mind and pushing it at the detectives when he asked, but unlike before, whatever it was he was pushing at them didn’t take, and the empty feeling grew, leaving him with a headache. It also left him wondering if it had been some kind of fluke. Maybe he hadn’t actually done anything at all.