Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  “You control vision in real time, like what I see right now, and in dreams?”

  “My gift extends to the dream realm, yes. Vision is about what your eyes allow you to see, and those sensors are connected to the brain. I manipulate the part of the mind that tells a person what he’s seeing or how to interpret an image. That extends to the imagination as well, such as how someone might picture something. I can make a person think he’s sleeping when he’s not, based on the dream playing out inside his head. Which is why I tried to access your nightmare—to stop it—but as I said, I can’t touch your mind.”

  She blinked. Okay, visual manipulation was far more impressive than invisibility.

  And he had hidden his presence in Owen’s building by manipulating everyone’s sight? Several hundred people lived in that apartment building. How many of them did he control that morning?

  This is why others fear him, why they respected him at the Conclave.

  What a terrifyingly powerful ability.

  “I’m immune?” she asked, part alarmed, part relieved.

  “Yes, to all power, it seems.”

  She lifted her head to look at him, but the darkness of the room hid his features. “Is that normal for a fledgling?”

  “No, not at all. You’re the first I’ve ever met. However, Aidan told me about someone he knew long ago with a similar ability.”

  “He knows about me?”

  “Of course.”

  His quick, nonchalant answer made her shiver. Aidan reminded her too much of Osiris. They both possessed an air of age about them that lent to a disregard for humanity. His callous suggestion to auction off a mortal woman marked him as one of the last people she ever wanted to see again, but apparently, he knew about her. That didn’t bode well for her future.

  She rolled onto her back, away from Issac’s magical hands, needing a moment. The way she accepted his comfort unnerved her. Trusting him defied rational thought. Their acquaintance nearly killed her, something he admitted might happen again, and he was using her.

  He also saved my life at least twice now.

  She almost growled, frustrated and exhausted by the confusion rioting inside her.

  A glance at the clock showed she slept two hours at most. Not nearly enough, not after everything she’d been through.

  Issac shifted beside her, his palm cupping her cheek as he hovered over her, removing the space between them. “Hmm, you and I are going to have a very long talk tomorrow, love.”

  Love. What happened to darling?

  “However,” he continued softly, his mouth lowering to hers. “We require more rest first, and fortunately, I know exactly how to help us achieve that.”

  She parted her lips with a reply that he interrupted with his tongue. Her heart stopped beating, her breath frozen.

  He started slow, his tongue gliding against hers in a way that coaxed her into returning the kiss. Each slide and dip caressed her senses, causing her pulse to kick-start into a rhythm that bowed to his control. It decelerated when he went soft and accelerated when he deepened their embrace, his palms sliding down her neck and arms.

  God, this man knew exactly how to destroy her, to plow through every wall, to bring her to her knees with a simple stroke of his mouth over hers. Each nibble and lick fractured another brain cell, leaving her mindless beneath him, and captivated.

  He was fast becoming her darkest addiction, his touch something she craved more than air itself. Right and wrong fled her system, leaving a puddle of desire in their wake that only he could satisfy. She no longer cared about anything or anyone—except him.

  And to release all those emotions, all that pain, was a gift in itself, one she couldn’t refuse.

  “More,” she moaned. “More, Issac.” Because if he stopped at just kissing her, she’d kill him. They’d danced around this attraction for too long. Fuck everything else, all that had happened, she wanted relief. “Please.”

  “Don’t worry, love. I’m going to give you what you need,” he whispered, his lips hot against hers. “What we both need.”

  His thigh slid between hers, pressing into the most sensitive part of her.

  Yes…

  She moved closer, her hips undulating beneath his, seeking the friction she so badly craved.

  Dangerous. Wrong. Wanton.

  But she gave in to the allure anyway, seeking the comfort he offered.

  “Yes, love.” His palms slid up her sides, beneath her top. “That’s it.” He peeled off her strapless bra, tossing it to the floor and revealing her breasts to the night air. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, his lips on her neck. “Utter perfection.”

  She threaded her fingers through his thick hair, her other palm against his shoulder.

  So strong.

  So soft.

  So… mine.

  The thought came unbidden, nearly derailing her from the moment, but the pinch against her nipple captured her attention, eliciting a groan from deep in her chest. Fuck. His hands really were enchanted. He knew exactly how to touch her and where, both rough and gentle, his strong thigh flexing between hers.

  “Issac…” His name a prayer and a promise, wrapped up in a sultry voice she hardly recognized. Already she felt a sensuous storm brewing inside her, culminating in her lower abdomen. No one had ever done this to her, brought her this close, without really touching her.

  But then again, none of her previous lovers rivaled Issac in any way.

  His lips traced a wet path down her chest, his tongue teasing her stiff peaks. It made her want to explore him in kind, causing her palm to drift down his muscled back to his firm ass. The silky texture of his boxer shorts teased her fingertips, sliding across her skin as she ventured around to the front to palm his impressive erection.

  He hissed her name, his teeth scraping her skin.

  She stroked him through the fabric, only to find her wrist captured and pulled over her head. Her lips parted on a complaint that he swallowed with his mouth. His lower body settled between hers, the head of his cock right against her clit. And when he pressed into her, she saw stars.

  Oh, fuck…

  So close…

  The minimal clothing between them didn’t matter, not with him moving like that.

  Her nails bit into his biceps, her back arching as she thrust upward, chasing the sensation tingling throughout her body.

  Just.

  One.

  More.

  “Now, Astasiya,” he growled, his teeth sinking into her lower lip.

  God, that voice, coupled with the things he was doing to her, pushed her over the precipice into oblivion. Sensual energy unlike anything she’d ever experienced flooded through her, his tongue absorbing each of her moans as he drove her to madness.

  She quivered.

  Quaked.

  Exploded.

  Her vision going dark and then light, every part of her melting beneath his assault. And then she was floating, lost in a cloud of bliss she never wanted to come down from.

  “Glorious,” he murmured, his lips tracing her jaw to her throat. “You’re amazing.”

  His praise warmed her in a way she didn’t expect. She should be the one commending him, not the other way around.

  Because wow.

  He sent her to heaven and back without really touching her. It was a testament to his skill and her lack of recent experience. Or maybe the culmination of all the foreplay between them.

  His tongue laved her bottom lip before his mouth took hers in a kiss underlined in unspoken words. Feelings. They were walking a dangerous rope, this connection between them bordering on something decidedly deeper than mere lust.

  It wrecked her.

  Floored her.

  Excited her.

  “Sleep well,” he whispered, pulling her against him, his hot arousal against her thigh.

  “But—”

  “Shh.” He nuzzled her hair, tightening his hold. “Another time, Aya. We will have many more nights together. Trus
t me.”

  Aya? She wanted to ask him what he meant, but her yawn dispelled her ability to speak. Mmm, in the morning. She’d ask him then.

  If she remembered.

  17

  Afternoon Ride

  Astasiya’s heartbeat changed, signaling her awareness. Her abrupt intake of air had Issac’s lips twitching, but he remained otherwise still, his arm draped loosely across her waist.

  He never held women like this, nor did he ever sleep beside one, but he rather enjoyed waking up with Astasiya snuggled up against him. His cock enjoyed it, too, especially as she stretched.

  She froze as her ass brushed his groin.

  Yes, darling, that would be for you.

  Except they couldn’t do anything about it right now. Elizabeth had returned home an hour ago, hence the reason Issac was wide awake now.

  Astasiya shifted slowly, as if to not disturb him. He allowed it, deciding to give her the moment to herself she seemed to need. She crept quietly away from the bed and closed the door to the bathroom behind her.

  He chuckled, sitting up with a shake of his head. Most women fawned over him, desiring to please him with their mouths and bodies just for a few minutes more of attention. Astasiya, however, couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

  The challenge she provided thrilled him. As did many other aspects of her body and mind.

  Rolling out of bed, he pulled on his trousers and picked up his phone from the nightstand. Lucian had replied to the text he sent last night, agreeing to a meet.

  Brilliant.

  This whole slow-introduction idea with Astasiya had clearly not worked out as planned, so they needed a new course.

  Checking the current hour, Issac sent back a message with a reasonable arrival time and pocketed the device.

  The water flipped on in the bathroom, giving Issac pause as he began buttoning his shirt. Joining Astasiya in the shower would be most pleasing. He pictured the water trickling over her naked skin and his tongue following a droplet to the delicious juncture between her thighs. Mmm, an activity for later today if all went as planned. Because if they started now, they’d never make the meeting he’d just arranged.

  Needing a distraction, he made her bed and left the room in search of Elizabeth Watkins. His curiosity over the woman had piqued when she appeared seemingly from nowhere at the age of eighteen.

  From all that he’d observed, she appeared to know nothing about the supernatural. An impossibility, it seemed, with her birthright and those who surrounded her. She even had a Sentinel detail assigned to her security, something she definitely knew, as Issac had seen her speaking to them more than once.

  He found her in the kitchen, humming over the counter as she whipped something in a bowl. Her summer dress seemed better suited for a day out with friends, not an afternoon at home, but Elizabeth seemed to fancy high fashion. She even wore stockings.

  “Hello,” he said with a slight knock, hoping not to startle her too much.

  She squeaked, jumping backward and flinging what appeared to be egg all over the cherry wood cabinet.

  So much for not surprising her.

  “Sorry, Elizabeth, I didn’t mean to cause alarm. Here, let me help.” He reached for the paper towels by the sink, but she grabbed the roll before he could reach it.

  “I-I have it,” she stuttered, her brown eyes round, her cheeks pink. “You just caught me off guard.” She was already wiping up the mess and bending to retrieve what appeared to be specialized wood cleaner.

  Issac frowned. He knew she was an experiment of sorts, but she acted so incredibly human. Well, a clone of a housewife, anyway. What did Jonathan do to you?

  “I, uh, was making an egg casserole,” she explained, gesturing to the mixture and then the flaky pie crust beside it. “Stas loves bacon and eggs. Hopefully, you do, too, because I doubled the recipe.”

  He leaned against the counter, arms folded. “You knew I was here.”

  She tossed out the paper towels and began fiddling with her mixture again. “The expensive jacket and tie in the hall closet gave you away.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Stas isn’t dating anyone else who can afford that brand.”

  Oh, now that was an interesting statement. “Who all is she dating?” he wondered aloud, his eyebrow arching.

  Elizabeth giggled, the sound one he heard far too often from simpering beauty queens, but hers came off as more genuine. “No one. Stas doesn’t date.”

  “She doesn’t?”

  “Well, it seems she does now.” She poured the mixture into her dish, adding a layer of cheese to the top. “But no, she didn’t date much throughout college, too consumed with her studies.”

  Excellent segue. Thank you, darling. “Because she was focused on her future with the CRF.”

  Elizabeth snorted. “I guess, yeah.” She put the casserole in the oven and started the timer. “Definitely not my first choice.”

  The muttered words surprised him. “What, working at the CRF, you mean?”

  A faint red crept up her neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

  And now he was very intrigued. “Your distaste for the CRF?” Which he heard clearly in her voice. “Or the comment about it not being your first choice?”

  Her cheeks matched her auburn hair, her eyes widening. “I really need to learn to just not speak, like, at all.”

  “That would be a shame, as you have a lovely voice.” He meant it as a compliment, not in a flirtatious manner but in a friendly one. “Why do you dislike the CRF?” he pressed, changing the subject back to what he really wanted to know. Is this all a charade? Do you know what I am? Is your friendship with Astasiya by coincidence or on purpose?

  Elizabeth chewed her lip. “I don’t not like it.”

  “But you’re clearly not their biggest fan either,” he pointed out, reading her body language and tone. If this was an act, then the woman deserved an award for her performance because the female radiated innocence. Especially in the way she continued to blush and lower her gaze.

  “They just… I know how consuming they can be. I grew up with a father who was never home, and I don’t want that for Stas. I hope she can find a balance. That’s all.”

  Her words floored him, particularly the way she spoke about her father—George. Almost as if she truly believed she grew up with him working all the time.

  Oh, there were birth records and other official documents that indicated she grew up with the Watkinses. But that family had been under surveillance for over two decades, and Elizabeth didn’t appear in those videos or notes until six years ago.

  Except it seemed she was completely unaware.

  She appeared quite human.

  Were his instincts wrong? Could she be the result of something else? Why go through the hassle of creating a history for someone who has no otherworldly powers or purpose?

  One thing he knew for certain—she was not related to her parents.

  But the experiment piece he now had to question. They all just assumed the CRF created her because where else would she have come from? Yet her mannerisms and emotions didn’t suit that theory at all.

  Are you a failed project at the CRF? A sleeper agent of some kind? Or something else entirely?

  “So, uh, yeah. I’m happy for her, and it’s nice to see her dating, too.” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled over that last part, her lips pulling upward into an eager smile. “I saw the photos from the gala. How did you talk her into wearing that dress?”

  “My stylist picked it out for her.”

  Elizabeth gave him a look. “Yeah, I figured that much. But how did you get Stas to wear it?”

  He wasn’t following. “Why wouldn’t she wear it?”

  “Uh, because it would have cost a fortune.”

  What kind of man did Elizabeth think him to be? “She didn’t pay for it.” He’d never force a date to buy their own gown.

  Elizabeth made a noise in the back of her throat. “No, that’s not— Okay. Let me
start over. How did you convince Stas to let you buy her a dress? And not just any dress, but that dress? I can hardly get her to borrow my shoes, and they have nothing on that designer label. So how? How did you do it?”

  Such a trivial topic and so very human. She really has no idea who or what I am, does she? Because anyone else in this situation would never think to question such a frivolous detail. “I didn’t give her a choice.”

  She considered that, her lips scrunched to the side. “I see.” She tapped her chin with a manicured nail. “You didn’t tell her how much it cost.”

  “The topic didn’t arise, no.”

  “And she didn’t recognize the label, because it’s Stas, and she wouldn’t.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m very impressed. I hope she keeps you around.”

  “Thank you, I think.”

  “It’s a compliment.” She busied herself with the coffee maker, grabbing three mugs from the cupboard. “Can I offer a suggestion?”

  “Yes.” That didn’t mean he’d take it, but this woman did appear to be Astasiya’s true best friend. Not because of outlying circumstances, but because of pure fate. Fascinating.

  “Never give her a price tag. Ever. Especially if you plan to dress her up again.”

  “You’re recommending I not mention the cost?” he asked, sensing Astasiya’s nearing presence. Her delectable blood sang to his senses, reminding him of how she tasted. He desired more. He desired her.

  “I’m just saying she might not be as appreciative as your other more, uh, money-savvy dates. She’s not ignorant or anything, just not…”

  “Shallow?” he offered, aware that Astasiya lurked in the hallway now, listening.

  “Right. That’s a good word, or materialistic. She’s not a fashion person, if that makes sense.”

  “Duly noted.” He paused, waiting for his blonde to enter. Hmm, it seemed she wanted to hear more. All right. Then he’d continue pressing Elizabeth about her life and purpose in this world. “Astasiya hasn’t told me what you’re doing post-graduation?” He phrased it as a question, hoping she would elaborate from there.