Blood Song

by Lynda Hilburn

  Chapter 6

  “Thanks, Nadu. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Grace unlocked her sound studio and stepped inside. She flicked on the lights and walked through the spacious main area to her private office in the back. She’d set up the room as a comfortable place where she could regroup between students or sessions. A combination office and dressing area, the space held a comfortable couch, a desk for her computer and other equipment, cabinets for files and supplies, a small refrigerator filled with bottled water, and a recently installed shower. Various percussion instruments dotted her shelves. An electronic keyboard and several guitars lined another wall. It was her home away from home.

  Appreciating the quiet, she finished up a huge pile of paperwork she’d been avoiding, forcing herself to stay on task. After she finished the last form, she placed it on top of the pile and glanced at the clock. 1 a.m. Fuck. Too late to go home. She stretched her neck back and forth. Looks like another night on the couch.

  She’d barely taken off her shoes when her cell phone rang. She fished it out of her purse and read the caller ID.

  “Hey, Roz. What’s up? What are you doing up so late—or so early?”

  “I read Tarot at a private party up in the mountains and they didn’t want me to leave. They kept throwing money at me.” She chuckled. “When I got home, I had the feeling you were still working at the studio, so I decided to check on you. You’ve been on my mind. Strange visuals floating around in my brain. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just tired. It was a long day.” It’s been the demented yellow brick road. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

  “No way, my slippery friend. We’re not switching the subject to me. I want to talk about you. I know something’s going on. It’s been bugging me all day. Something about a guy. Usually I’d be excited about that, thinking it’s a great thing, but I get a real mixed vibe about this one. He seems okay, but then there’s something weird about his energy. Really, Grace. Level with me. What’s going on?”

  Grace was seriously tempted to talk to Roz about the fact that Ethan—the angel from her dream—showed up at her sound session earlier, but she really didn’t want to spoil the one good friendship she had in town. Having at least one person who didn’t think she was crazy was nice. But that was only because Roz didn’t know everything.

  Should she take the chance? After all, Roz was pretty unique herself. Maybe it was time to be courageous. And if Roz was picking up something about Ethan, Grace wanted to hear it.

  Deciding to take the risk, she jumped in. “As a matter of fact, something strange did happen today. Remember I told you I had a dream about an angel? The gorgeous guy with dark hair, brilliant green eyes and a body to die for?”

  “Yeah. He sounded yummy. I had dream envy. Go on.”

  “Well, he showed up today, wearing a Jimi Hendrix T-shirt instead of a Rolling Stones T-shirt, but it was the same guy.”

  “Whoa! Wait a minute. You’re saying the guy you dreamed about showed up today? In the flesh?”

  “Yep. And better looking than I remembered. But the moment he came over to me, I started acting weird.”

  “What do you mean? Weirder than usual? You get pretty spacy after a sound session.”

  “Definitely non-ordinary. Uninhibited. I started blurting out things. My lips kept flapping and whatever was on my mind flew right out of my mouth without any thought. You know I never do that. I’m rarely chatty in general, much less after finishing a healing circle. And never with men. It was like I suddenly turned into a gushing extrovert. And I flirted!”

  “Oh, my God! You flirted?” She paused. “Grace, we’ve been friends since you moved to Boulder and I love you. I’ve never pushed you to tell me why you avoid men and seem anxious around them. I figured, like most women, you’ve had your share of traumas. You’ve been consistently closed up around guys. I know something bad happened. So, if you flirted with a man you just met, something strange is going on.”

  “I know, right? I’m like a different person around him. He felt so familiar, as if I’d known him forever. Like I’ve been waiting for him.”

  “Sounds like a past-life connection to me. Twin souls.”

  “Maybe. I can’t believe how he affected me.” Grace sank back into the couch cushions.

  “So, are you saying he rocked your world?” She said the last three words in her fake Gypsy accent.

  Roz had told her months ago she’d meet a man who would rock her world. “Yes, oh great and powerful Roz. You were on-target. I was thoroughly and completely rocked.” And aroused beyond belief.

  “It’s gratifying to be right, but we don’t know what’s up with this guy’s energy. I’m not sure if I’m happy for you or not.”

  “What have you been picking up?” Roz might be a little eccentric, but she was an accurate psychic.

  “I’m not certain,” Roz mumbled. “I keep getting visuals of a dark-haired man who’s between worlds.”

  “Between worlds? What does that mean?”

  “I really don’t know, Grace. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Let me do an official reading, and I’ll call you in the morning—or later in the morning. I don’t want to give you any feedback until I have a better grasp on whatever this is. So far it feels... slippery.”

  Grace tensed. “You mean he’s dangerous—I shouldn’t see him?” She didn’t like the sound of that at all. He hadn’t felt dangerous...

  “No. Or at least I don’t think so. He seems like a good guy, but there’s something...”

  “Well, for all I know I’ll never see him again, so this is probably a non-issue.” A wave of sadness washed through her. “I’m going to sleep here. I’m really tired.” Grace yawned. “Thanks so much for being a good friend, Roz.”

  “You know you can come over and stay with me tonight if you want to. I worry about you. Something’s off.”

  “No. I’m okay. Don’t worry. Let’s get together tomorrow. Bye, Roz.”

  “Ciao, Grace. We’ll figure this out.”

  The moment Grace clicked off her phone, the studio door opened and footsteps pounded across the wooden floor.

  “Grace!”

  She recognized the voice. “Ethan?”

  He stomped into the room, his shirt torn and bloody, and froze in front of her. “What have you done to me?”

  Her mouth fell open. She didn’t know if she was more shocked by his sudden appearance, his bloody clothes or the strange question. It took her a few seconds to find her voice. “Ethan!” She pointed at his ravaged and stained shirt. “What happened to you? Are you all right? You look like you’ve been attacked by a wild animal.” She stood and took a step toward him, not sure if she should call an ambulance or run to the business next door for help.

  As if he hadn’t been aware of his appearance until she mentioned it, he looked down at himself then met her gaze. “I was attacked.”

  “Oh, my God! You need medical attention. Let’s get you to the hospital—”

  “No. That’s not the problem.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course it’s the problem.” She grabbed her purse and started tugging him toward the front door, having decided to go to the neighbor, who was a chiropractor. “You’re covered with blood. Your skin is pale. You’ve been hurt.”

  He clutched her upper arms and she dropped her bag. “We need to talk.” His voice sounded shaky and thick.

  She gasped, surprised by his sudden move and the strength of his grip on her arms, and studied the green eyes she’d found so beautiful before. Now they seemed wild and frightening. “Ethan, let me go. We need help.” Fear clenched her stomach. She didn’t really know the man bleeding in her studio, and what about her own safety? Why had this virtual stranger burst in? She’d only had a brief discussion with him after the sound session. He could be a criminal—a sexual predator or a serial killer—for all she knew. Just because he was good-looking and she’d considered jumping his bones didn’t mean he wasn’
t a threat to her. She took a couple of deep breaths and imagined sending a calming tone through her body. As the phantom sound flowed through her, she relaxed. “Okay.” She forced her voice to remain steady and her breathing normal. “Let’s sit down and talk.” Maybe I can explode his head if I need to, although that didn’t work very well with the creature in my dream.

  They sat on Grace’s office couch.

  “It’s happening again. Right now,” Ethan said. “That strange, drowsy feeling whenever I’m around you. The brain melt. It’s like you have some kind of mystical energy that’s transforming me—turning me into a half-thing.”

  Holy shit. What is he talking about? What if he really is a mental case? She’d fallen into the trap of thinking her little town was safe and she’d foolishly left her studio door unlocked. Maybe if she kept talking to him quietly, he’d turn back into the rational man he appeared to be earlier today.

  “A half-thing?” Is the poor man delusional? Maybe his attendance at the sound session had the opposite effect and instead of healing, it disrupted? Aggravated his mental state? The smell of blood was strong in the room, and the beginnings of a headache throbbed at the base of her skull.

  “I know I’m making you nervous and giving you a headache, but you need to explain what’s going on.” Ethan peeled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor. “Sorry about the smell.”

  How did he know about my headache?

  “Grace, I’m going to tell you the truth, and I need you not to freak out. But if you do start to lose it, I’m going to use some of my powers to cool your jets.”

  His powers? Oh, no. He’s really out there. Can I reach my cell phone?

  She studied his chest. The skin under the bloody slashes in his shirt gleamed back with pale perfection. No wounds or scratches. But how could that be? She clearly remembered seeing the torn fabric.

  Did I see it? Maybe I hallucinated...

  “I could feel your headache, and your anxiety about how I knew you had a headache. And your nervousness in general because I showed up out of the blue looking like a mad thing. Knowing stuff is one of my talents,” he said in answer to the question she hadn’t asked him. “And since you’re still uptight, I’m going to send a hypnotic suggestion to remain peaceful, no matter what weird things I say.”

  He stared into Grace’s eyes and she blinked several times. Her shoulders slumped and her lips parted. She leaned back into the couch cushions, too relaxed to even sit up straight. She eyed his smooth chest, thinking how nice it would be to run her fingers over the muscles. Maybe lick his nipples to see if they’d harden. And his lips. She studied his kissable mouth. What fun it would be to lean in and suck the lower lip. Maybe give him a tongue massage. That made her smile.

  “Good. You’re smiling. Now we can talk.” He angled to face her directly. “Tell me about your dream, Grace.”

  “The dream? That’s where I first saw you.” The memory replayed in her mind in vivid detail. She told him about being attacked by a creature and how he—Ethan, her angel—rescued her. He kept his gaze focused on hers while she spoke.

  “Okay. I don’t know why you remember that since I went to a lot of trouble to erase the memory, but it wasn’t a dream, Grace. It was real.”

  She fought against the waves of relaxation pulsing through her mind and her body, and struggled to lock onto his words. “No. That can’t be right.” She rallied her willpower and sat up straighter, watching his face, waiting for him to laugh and say he was joking. But his expression didn’t change. A trickle of fear fanned through her briefly before it was swept away by another rush of bonelessness. She laughed. “You’re being ridiculous. There are no such things as blood-drinking monsters with fangs. And maybe angels don’t exist either. It was all in my imagination.”

  He raised a brow.

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “No. The monster in your dream was a newly turned vampire.”

  Grace burst out laughing again. “You’re a real comedian. Or you’re nuts.”

  “I probably am nuts, but I’m telling the truth. My friend Nelson and I were supposed to track the newbie down and capture him before he hurt any humans. Just my luck he got away at the same time you were walking on the path toward your house. He jumped on you, bit your neck, and would have killed you if we hadn’t gotten there when we did.”

  Oh. My. God. He really is insane. But very cute. Is it bad to lust after a sick person?

  They stared at each other for several seconds. “Ethan, I like a good joke as well as anyone, but this isn’t funny. I think you need help—”

  “I’m going to give you another suggestion that you’ll be able to listen to me with calm, detached objectivity. And an open mind.” He locked his gaze onto hers.

  A tingle ran up and down her spine as he said the last words. Her scalp prickled. The fear and anxiety, present only seconds before, vanished.

  He nodded. “Since I obviously didn’t erase your memories of my visit, was anything out of the ordinary when you woke up this morning?”

  The calm, detached objectivity he’d mentioned seemed to be true, because she could recall her strange morning and her assumption she’d blacked out again without getting upset. “I woke up dressed in the gag gift I’d gotten from friends on my last birthday, my hair was gummy and I felt like I’d been run over by a truck.”

  “Gag gift?”

  “Yes. A sexy red nightie I never wear.”

  He grinned. “You ought to think about wearing it more often. It really suits you.”

  She had a quick flash of anxiety before the feeling dissolved. She settled deeper into the couch cushions. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “After Nelson and I captured the newbie vampire, I carried you to your house and hosed you down in your shower. You were covered with blood from the idiot and dirt from the trail. I grabbed the first thing I found in your dresser, which happened to be the red number. Then I tucked you safe in your bed and left.”

  She didn’t want to believe anything he was saying, but if he was lying, how else could he know about the silly nightgown she’d awakened wearing. “You were in my room?” Then a horrible thought smacked her in the head. She gasped. “Did you do anything to me?” Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded.

  “No!” He scooted closer and took her hand in his, a serious look on his face. His skin was unusually cool. “I told you I’m no angel, but I didn’t do anything... no matter how tempted I was.”

  She wasn’t sure why, but she believed him.

  “Why do you chase vampires?” She fought a snicker. “Are you some kind of male Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Really, Grace? Vampires? You’re sounding as mad as him.

  He smiled. “I always liked that show, but no. I’m one of the creatures she’d hunt.”

  She felt the humor drain from her face. It was worse than she thought. How could she get away from this handsome lunatic? She tried to lift her arms and couldn’t. Maybe she could distract him, disable him without permanent harm. Can my voice heal delusions?

  “I see that look on your face. Before you send for the men with straitjackets, let me explain—”

  Without waiting, she closed her eyes, took a full breath and sang a high-pitched tone, imagining the sound penetrating and surrounding Ethan.

  He jumped up, rubbing his arms. “Holy fuck! What are you doing? My whole body is tingling.” He looked at his skin. “I’ve got goose bumps and my heart’s racing. That’s impossible.”

  Surprised to see he wasn’t bleeding, or hadn’t thrown up or lost his bowels, she prepared to launch another tone at him if he continued his bizarre story. She sucked in a breath.

  “Stop!” Ethan returned to the couch, noses almost touching, and locked eyes with her. “Believe me, Grace. Everything I’m saying sounds perfectly normal to you. You can listen without getting upset.”

  She blinked, and then shook her head to rouse herself from the sudden brain fuzz. “Are you seriously telling me you’re a
vampire?” Her voice was flat and monotone.

  “Yes, I am. One of the foul creatures of the night, the undead—a blood-drinking parasite.”

  They stared at each other again.

  She licked her dry lips. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “No, of course not.” He raised his chin in the air, his tone of voice somewhere between shocked and insulted.

  “Why not? Isn’t that what bloodsuckers do?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. And before I met you, I had to avoid humans so I wouldn’t suck them dry. You’ve done something to me. You’re messing with my vampire nature. I noticed it as soon as I carried you to your house.” He raised his arm to his nose and sniffed. “I don’t even smell like a vampire anymore.”

  “Well, it sounds like you don’t like being a vampire, so what does it matter if I’m changing you—not that I believe a word of your story.” Why does the cute one have to be a loon?

  “Are you saying you really can change me?” Ethan sprang up and began pacing before he stopped and stared at her, his eyes wide. “You’re a witch!” He pointed at her. “I should have guessed. You put a spell on me.” He slapped his hands against his thighs.

  “Witch? You really are crazy.” Although she had to admit she’d considered that possibility herself when she was young and trying to figure out her bizarre tendencies. She studied the frantic man in constant movement in front of her.

  “No, wait.” He held up a hand in a stop gesture. “The weird feeling started while you were still unconscious, so you couldn’t have bewitched me on purpose. Maybe I was transformed by being near you.”

  She watched his face. He did seem genuinely worried and confused. What would it hurt to tell him the truth? Especially since he’d shared his whopper of a fantasy tale with her. She patted the couch next to her, hoping she wasn’t making the worst decision of her life by encouraging the nutcase to come closer. “Sit down. I’ll tell you what I know about my abilities.”

  He hesitated for a couple of seconds before he sat. “I saw you cure that sick woman at the sound circle. It was a miracle.”

  She nodded. “It often does seem like a miracle. But it’s also a curse.” Thinking about telling the story made her lips go dry and her midsection tighten.

  “What do you mean?” He leaned in and met her gaze. “You are totally relaxed, and every time I say the word relax, you will become more comfortable and peaceful.”

  She didn’t know how she’d signaled him that she was getting nervous, but at his words, a burst of warmth flowed down her spine, and she lowered the shoulders she hadn’t realized were bunched with tension.

  “Is that better?”

  She took a deep breath. “Yes. Thanks. You must be one helluva hypnotist, Ethan.”

  He grinned. “It’s a vampire skill. One of the ways we incapacitate our victims.”

  Her brows shot up. “Am I your victim?”

  “Relax.” He flicked a hand in a dismissive gesture. “We already covered that. Go on with your story. What about your abilities?”

  Her fear dissipated. “Long before I discovered I could heal with my voice, I knew I could harm with it. At first I didn’t understand why people around me—anyone who bullied me on the playground or stole my candy or pushed me off the slide—would start bleeding from their noses, mouths, eyes, ears, and they’d wet their pants or worse. The school staff thought it was some kind of virus going around. Nobody associated it with me for a while, until it became clear I was always in the vicinity when one of the outbreaks happened but I never had any symptoms.” Tension coiled in her stomach again.

  “Just relax. Are you saying that anytime someone hurt you they immediately got instant karma? That sounds like the prom scene from the movie Carrie.”

  “Not quite that bad. It wasn’t only them hurting me. It was whether or not my emotions—fear, anger, or later, lust—were aroused. If I yelled at someone and backed it up with emotions, bad things happened. If I was a little annoyed with someone, but didn’t have strong feelings about it, they weren’t harmed.”

  “So, the emotions cause the damage?”

  “It’s the combination of emotions and sound. My parents had to move me around to different schools when I was a kid. To this day they still don’t understand that I’m not possessed by demons or mentally ill, which is what they thought. Or maybe they’re right.” Her heartbeat pounded.

  “Relax. I doubt if someone possessed by demons could cure people the way you do.” He grinned. “Unless it’s an open-minded demon.”

  “Are you laughing at me?” Her lips pressed into a firm line. She was losing patience trying to placate the gorgeous lunatic.

  “Only a little. Relax. You said something about lust...”

  “You would lock onto that one.” She gave a weak smile. “I was pretty repressed about boys and sex. After I figured out my voice was a lethal weapon, I isolated myself. I made it all the way through high school and most of college before I trusted a guy enough to let him near me. I thought if I never got angry at him, there wouldn’t be any negative consequences. But—” She licked her lips and twisted her hands in her lap.

  “Relax...”

  She breathed deeply before continuing. “In the middle of our first ‘going all the way’ session, I found myself swamped with love and desire for this guy. His name was Jeff. He sang in choir with me and his voice was amazing. I’d never felt such intense positive emotions or felt so close to someone. I called out his name, and as soon as the best orgasm in the universe ripped through me, Jeff started screaming. He—” Her words were choked off with a sob. Tears poured down Grace’s cheeks.

  Ethan took her hand. “Look at me, Grace. When she did, he repeated, “Relax, relax, relax. It’s a distant memory. Easy to talk about.”

  She sniffled. “He raised his head to look at me and blood poured from his eyes and his ears. He jumped off the bed and clutched his head for a few seconds before he collapsed on the floor. I screamed until I noticed a pool of urine expanding around him.”

  “Jesus,” Ethan mumbled.

  “I pressed my hands against my mouth to stop the sound in time for my neighbors to swarm in through the door I’d left unlocked. They called an ambulance and the police. It looked like Jeff had some sort of stroke or seizure, and they all thought I was in shock. Nobody knew my horrible secret—they didn’t know it was all my fault—so they treated me with kindness and took me to the emergency room to get checked out. I was terrified I’d killed him.”

  “Holy shit, Grace. Did he die?”

  “No. He was in the hospital for a couple of weeks. They couldn’t find a clear cause for the head pain and bleeding, and all his tests came back normal, so they finally released him. I was too horrified and ashamed to visit him, but I sent cards and flowers. He tried to call me a few times, and then emailed saying he understood I didn’t want to see him again after he got so sick for no reason, and in the middle of having sex. He assumed I was afraid of him, which I was, but not for any reason he could imagine. I transferred to another university at the end of the semester and never saw him again.”

  “Wow. What a miserable experience.”

  “After that I never tried to get close to anyone again. That was my only experience of hurting someone with positive emotions. So, any future love relationships are out of the question.”

  “Geez, your love life is even shittier than mine.” Ethan grinned and patted her hand.

  She realized he was trying to cheer her up after the ghastly story so she gave him as authentic a smile as she could muster. “I’d say that’s an understatement.”

  “Okay, there’s a downside to your voice, but there are a lot of upsides. Have you ever been unable to cure someone you tried to heal?”

  “Yes, lots of times. I can’t inflict healing on someone who doesn’t want it. Sometimes people who are terminally ill are ready to die. They don’t want their well-meaning family and friends to bring me in to save the day. I always sense when
the answer is going to be no, and in that case I sing to soothe them and ease their passing.”

  Ethan stared at her for several seconds, frowning. “What if someone’s really close to death and they don’t want to die? Can you save them? And what if they’ve already died? Is there anything you can do?”

  Grace’s vision blurred and her head spun. Her breath caught.

  “Hey! You went all chalk-white on me. Relax, relax, relax.” He pushed against her shoulder with his finger and she dropped back into the cushions. “What just happened?”

  Tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked them away. “I’ve healed many people who were on the brink of death. That’s no different than any other kind of sound healing. But the first time I pushed the limit—when I didn’t listen to my intuition telling me it was too late—I caused a disaster. I let my pride and ego take over. I refused to stop the process, even when I felt the soul leave the body. I was young and stupid, and I wasn’t going to let Death win.”

  “So, what was the disaster?”

  Grace hyperventilated, unable to get enough air to speak.

  “Grace, close your eyes and breathe deeply.” He waited while she followed his instructions. “Imagine yourself floating above the scene of the disaster. You can see it, but it doesn’t affect you. Relax.” He paused. “Now tell me what happened.”

  Her heart rate slowed. “I sometimes go to hospitals to do healings requested by a doctor or nurse familiar with my work. Once at a New York City hospital, after I finished healing the person I’d been scheduled to see, I stopped by the cancer ward and spent a few minutes with each patient. I was about to leave when someone’s groans of pain caught my attention. It was a young woman whose cancer had metastasized throughout her entire body. She was in horrible agony. As I began singing to her, I felt her struggle to live. I pushed my will into her, and for a couple of minutes it seemed she chose to stay. But I was wrong. Her soul left and I didn’t stop pushing. She was dead but I forced the body to react. I animated the corpse, which started bleeding and oozing substances from every opening. Since there was no soul—no consciousness—present, the body began moving instinctively. It shot up off the bed and ran down the hallway like a zombie from The Walking Dead. I followed and watched her crash through a window and fall ten stories to the street below. The cause of death was listed as suicide. Once again, nobody knew it was all my fault. But I did.”

  They both sat silently for a few minutes then she frowned. “Hold on. I was very emotional—angry and fearful—when I sang that high-pitched sound at you a few minutes ago, but you aren’t bleeding or clutching your skull. Why didn’t my voice hurt you?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe because I’m a vampire. I’m already dead so you can’t hurt vampires. But...”

  “But what?”

  “That doesn’t feel like the right answer.”

  “Not that I believe your vampire story, but how could you possibly know how my voice usually affects vampires, since you’re the only one I’ve ever—allegedly—met.”

  “You’re right... wait! You have met another vampire. The newbie you thought was a dream. We noticed he had his own blood all over him, but we didn’t know why. Were you yelling at him?”

  “Yes, of course. I screamed myself hoarse trying to get him to let go.”

  “So, maybe your lethal weapon does work on vampires. Except for me.”

  “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t it work on you?”

  “This is just a guess, but I sat by your bedside when I took you home and there was an odd, calming sensation—the one I feel every time I’m around you. Like some kind of positive radiation. And then I attended your sound session where you healed the woman. The whole room was full of powerful vibrations. Maybe I’m immune to your voice now. I think you’ve altered my vampirism and I’m something in-between alive and undead.”

  None of that can really be true, can it?

  “Let’s do another experiment,” he said.

  “An experiment?” Her stomach tensed. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t like whatever it was.

  “Yeah. I think we both know we’re attracted to each other. I’ll kiss you and get your hormones all stirred up. Then you yell my name and we’ll see what happens.”

  “What? No! Are you insane? I told you about the damage my voice can do. I don’t want to hurt you.” Although I like the part about kissing...

  “But you haven’t hurt me yet. I want to figure this out.” He scooted closer and took her face in his hands. “Okay, ready?”

  Her breath hitched and she reluctantly nodded, both scared and excited.

  The kiss started out slowly, a brush of lips, and then it went deeper. He slid his tongue into her mouth and she opened for it, her heart racing. His skin seemed to warm to her touch. Unable to believe how bold she was acting, she wove her fingers into his silky hair and groaned. “Ethan.”

  He pulled away enough to whisper. “Say it again and again. Just because I want to hear it. And I’m not bleeding yet.”

  “Ethan, Ethan, Ethan...”

  Their lips met again, tongues dancing together as they melted into each other. Heart pounding along with his, she groaned when Ethan cupped her breast and used his thumb to caress her nipple. Pleasure shot through her. She didn’t know why her voice didn’t hurt him, or why she was acting so weird, but forced herself to stop thinking about it. Instead she enjoyed every moment of her newfound freedom and the wonderful things Ethan was doing with his mouth and hands.

  “I like this experiment,” he mumbled as he untucked her shirt and slid his hand up her stomach and under her bra, giving her chills and making her hot all at the same time. He squeezed one breast, then the other.

  Because of her affliction, she’d given up thinking about ever being with a man again. She didn’t understand why Ethan had changed that. Part of her was afraid, but the rest of her wanted to feel his naked skin against hers. For the first time in years, she wanted to take a dangerous risk. Maybe Roz was right about Ethan being her twin soul. She wasn’t completely sure what that meant, but it sounded exotic.

  She’d begun to plan the fastest way to get rid of all their clothes when someone snickered.

  “Well, what have we here?” A man’s voice growled.

  Grace and Ethan’s heads jerked in the direction of the abnormally tall man wearing a black robe and blood-red snakeskin boots, who stood in the doorway of her office.

  “Look, children.” The intruder pointed one of his crooked, bony fingers, the nail protruding like a jagged, yellow claw. “Come and witness the disobedient vampire playing with his food. What shall we do with them?”