by I. T. Lucas
On that, her premonition remained undecided, churning up a strange mix of contradicting feelings: a sense of trepidation, but also excitement.
Yes, her premonitions were definitely tricky.
1
Syssi
“Watch out!” Syssi threw a hand out, bracing against the Porsche’s front panel.
Her new boss, the most talked about professor on campus, Dr. Amanda Dokani, was going to get them killed.
“Would you chill?” Amanda cast Syssi an annoyed glance before accelerating again to take advantage of an opening in the next lane over.
Syssi held her breath. The space didn’t look big enough for a motorcycle. The Porsche was a small car, but not that small. When Amanda managed to slip it into the tiny space without causing an accident, Syssi sagged in relief.
Would telling her boss she was driving like a maniac get her fired?
Nah. Not after all the trouble Amanda had gone through convincing Syssi to come work for her. Besides, they were friends. Sort of. “You’re dangerous. I’m never going to hitch a ride with you again.”
Amanda snorted. “I don’t know what your problem is. I’m an excellent driver.”
If she wasn’t holding on to the dashboard for dear life, Syssi would’ve crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “Why can’t you stay in one lane? Do you really think all that weaving between cars will get you there faster? And anyway, what’s the rush? You have plenty of time until your first class starts.”
Amanda let out a resigned sigh. “Fine, I’ll slow down. But you need to tell me what’s gotten into you. Yesterday, you had no problem with my driving.”
True. But that had been before the disturbing foretelling that had forced itself into Syssi’s mind this morning. Amanda was in danger, the premonition had been clear on that, but the details had been fuzzy.
“I had a premonition about you.”
“Aha, I knew it. Let’s hear it.” Amanda looked excited as she peered at Syssi with a pair of big blue eyes that seemed to be glowing from the inside. It must’ve been a trick of the light—a reflection from contact lenses—because people’s eyes didn’t emit light. Though, it sure as hell looked like it.
Syssi shook her head. This wasn’t the first oddity she’d noticed about her new boss. Not that any of it was a big deal, just small things. Was Syssi the only one who noticed that there was something peculiar about the professor?
Probably.
Amanda’s students were too busy gaping and admiring to actually listen to her lectures, let alone notice that there was something off about her.
Tall and lean, with dark, glossy, short hair, deep blue eyes, and full, sensuous lips that were red without the benefit of a lipstick, Amanda’s beauty bordered on the surreal. Distracted by her looks, most people could see nothing beyond it, and at first, Syssi had been no different. But with each passing day, since she had first walked into Amanda’s lab a little over two months ago, it was getting easier see the person inside and ignore the cover.
Upon discovering that Professor Dokani was conducting experiments on extrasensory perception, Syssi had volunteered to be a test subject. What better way to explore her ability to foresee glimpses of the future than having a neuroscientist examine it?
Her results had been so exceptional that even though neuroscience hadn’t been her field of study, Amanda had pestered her to join the research team.
Syssi had politely declined.
She had an internship lined up with a wonderful architect. Tragically, though, the poor man had died of a heart failure a few days before she’d been supposed to start. So here she was, working at the lab and getting valuable insight into an ability that had haunted her, her entire life.
At least until she could find another architect to intern with.
“It was vague, as they all are, so I didn’t want to worry you for nothing, but I sensed that something major was going to happen to you—not life threatening, but life changing.”
Amanda smirked. “Hey, maybe the groundbreaking paper we are working on will get published in Nature? That would be major and life changing.”
Syssi shook her head. “The premonition wasn’t bleak but it wasn’t sunny either. Besides, we are not ready. Even I know we have to do a lot more experiments before we can prove your hypothesis.”
Tapping a long-nailed finger on the steering wheel, Amanda frowned. “I know. Tell me something, are you still getting those nightmares? The ones with the wolves?”
Syssi blushed. “Yeah, almost every night.” She’d told Amanda about the dreams, but not about the recent changes in their nature. Last Saturday, she’d gotten a little closer to her would-be dream rescuer, and closer yet each night since. His facial features were still obscured by the shadows, but she could tell that he was tall, exceptionally so, and that his body was beautifully built—lean and strong like that of an athlete’s.
Even though it was only a dream, his proximity was doing all kinds of weird things to her, affecting her in a most disturbing way. The man was like the epicenter of a force field, emitting some kind of attractant she was powerless to resist.
The way he held himself, his entire body language exuding an aura of power and confidence, was calling to everything female in her. Syssi yearned for her dream guy like she’d never yearned for any real man.
To be with him would differ from any sexual experience that she’d ever had or even fantasized about. Before the dreams had taken on this new twist, her fantasies had been quite tame, as well as the men starring in them. Kind of like her ex-boyfriend, or perhaps just a little more exciting. Gregg had been as far removed from intense as it got.
Not this guy.
He would demand nothing less than her complete and utter submission.
The shocking part was that she found herself yearning for his dominance. The concept was so foreign to her that she should’ve found it abhorrent, and certainly not titillating. Still, it was hard to argue with the very physical evidence her dream arousal was leaving behind.
Wet panties weren’t a big problem first thing in the morning, but the arousal carried over to her waking hours. Syssi could’ve banished it, forcing it off her mind, but the truth was that she didn’t want to. It made her feel alive. There was something naughty and delicious about her constant state of arousal, her yearning for the forbidden sensation, and she refused to give it up.
Not yet, anyway.
She would cast these fantasies aside once she started dating again and had a real guy in her life. It didn’t require a degree in psychology to figure out that there was a connection between the dreams and her extended dry spell.
Amanda cast her a sidelong glance, no doubt puzzled by Syssi’s blush. “The dreams are affecting you, and this is why you see trouble lurking in every corner. I think you are mixing up real premonitions with a bad mood.”
“Not likely. I know the difference. A premonition has a very distinct feel to it.” Syssi sighed. “I’m just tired. All I need is one good night’s sleep to regain my sunny predisposition.” One without disturbing dreams about a sexy dark stranger.
“What you need is to get laid. One good tumble and the nightmares will go poof. Isn’t a handsome guy part of the dream? You need to catch up to him and turn that nightmare into something naughty instead of scary; something fun like several screaming orgasms.” Amanda squirmed in her chair. “I could use some myself.” She winked at Syssi, the seductive smile on her beautiful face so sinful it had Syssi squirm a little herself. Amanda was such a sexual creature that it was impossible to remain unaffected. Especially given Syssi’s already elevated state of arousal.
If it were anyone else other than Amanda, Syssi would’ve been freaked out, thinking she was that transparent and that everyone could figure out what her dreams were about. But the woman had sex on her mind twenty-four seven. She would’ve turned a dream about a trip to the supermarket into something sexy.
But even though Amanda was very open about her sexualit
y, sometimes shockingly so, Syssi didn’t want to share this with her boss. She hid her discomfort with a shrug. “I don’t know if he is handsome or not because I never get close enough to see him. It’s not that kind of a dream.”
Liar, liar, panties on fire.
2
Amanda
“Where the hell is he?” Amanda murmured and took another quick glance at the time before fixing her gaze back on the lecture hall’s door.
From her elevated vantage point on the podium, there was little chance she could miss Kian. At six foot four and with two distinctive bodyguards at his side, he wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, or easily overlooked.
She was just anxious for him to show up.
At last, after endless nagging and cajoling, her brother—the all-important Regent and head of her clan on the American continent—was making the time to come see her teach.
He should be here already. Kian was punctual to a fault. Unless, he isn’t coming after all.
Snatching her phone out of her purse, Amanda turned her back to the class.
Where are you? I have to start in a few minutes, Amanda texted, then waited, tapping her heeled shoe on the podium’s hardwood floor.
Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Parking the car. Be there in two.
Letting out a relieved breath, she smiled and texted back. Knickers? Really? What century are you stuck in? It’s a thong now. Get with the times, old man. And unless you can fly, you won’t make it in two.
Old man walking as fast as he can while texting. Stop bugging me.
Amanda chuckled, but as she shifted her attention back to the rapidly filling classroom, her eyebrows dipped with worry. At this rate, Kian might not find an empty seat, let alone three, which might provide him with a perfect excuse to leave.
“Professor Dokani, I just wanted to tell you that I love your lectures,” called out a brave soul sitting in the first row.
Gutsy boy.
She smiled and gave him the thumbs-up.
The room, already one of the largest in the department at one hundred and fifty seats, was nearing full capacity. Amanda’s class, “Mind: The Final Frontier”, was quickly becoming a favorite of the student body. Not that she had any illusions as to why her class was so popular.
It wasn’t due to a sudden interest in the philosophy of neuroscience, or appreciation for the title’s reference to Star Trek. And sadly, it wasn’t due to her fascinating lectures or her amazing teaching skills either. No, the course’s popularity had mainly to do with her looks.
Owing to her exceptional hearing, Amanda couldn’t help but overhear her students’ murmurs; most of which were flattering, though some were not just rude but outright derogatory. She would’ve loved nothing more than to slap those boys around for talking like that about a woman, any woman. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. Not only would it get her fired from the university, but it would expose her supernatural hearing and uncommon strength.
Amanda sighed. Beauty wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. What most people didn’t realize was that it was both a gift and a curse. No one bothered to look past the cover to see what was on the inside.
Even Amanda herself hadn’t been immune. For most of her life she’d let this exquisite exterior define her, but lately it just wasn’t enough. She wished to be admired for her skill as a teacher, and not the looks her unique genetic heritage had bestowed upon her.
“Just look at her,” she heard one of the boys whisper. “She looks like something straight out of an anime illustrator’s fantasy.”
Nice. But although what he’d said was flattering, and not vulgar like some of the other comments she’d heard, Amanda had to disagree. Unlike the nearly naked anime beauties, she was dressed, modestly and impeccably.
Still, at the back of her mind, shoved into a hidden corner she managed to ignore most of the time, Amanda often felt like an anime character: an exaggerated exterior masking a hollow interior. But then she covered it up well, projecting a confident attitude and dressing the part.
This morning she’d taken particular care, choosing an outfit to best fit the role she was playing: a distinguished and respected professor, yet a hot one. The slim-fitting black trousers and blue silk blouse revealed very little skin, leaving the job of accentuating her figure to the exquisite cut of the luxurious fabrics.
Amanda didn’t own a single article of clothing that wasn’t a top designer label or cost less than most folks’ monthly mortgage payments. Not that she could afford that kind of stuff on a professor’s pay; that wouldn’t have covered her shoe budget alone. But her shares in the clan’s extensive holdings ensured she could buy whatever struck her fancy without ever needing to work for it.
The research she was conducting had a higher purpose than earning her income or even prestige.
Still, she liked feeling important for a change. And besides delighting in her students’ reactions—amusing and thrilling as they were—she had to admit that she truly enjoyed teaching and was surprisingly good at it.
With a thinly veiled smirk, Amanda watched the young men—some freezing in place, awestruck as they stared at her, others tripping over their own feet as they tried to find a seat without taking their eyes off her.
Some tall, some short, some pale, some dark. Most were average-looking. A few were worth a second glance.
Yummy, so many to choose from.
She loved their attention, their lust. Drinking it in, Amanda was in her element: the hunter in a field of ogling prey.
Mortals, with their weak, malleable minds, were easily snared, their memories of the hook-ups easily erased, and the men themselves just as easily forgotten.
Regrettably, it was a modus operandi for her kind.
Repeatedly thralling partners messed with their brains, while hiding her true nature for extended periods of time was tiresome and carried the risk of exposure.
Long-term relationships were simply impossible.
Those of her kin who’d tried had gotten burned; most figuratively, some literally.
Case in point; the witch hunts.
In days past, a woman like her might have been called a femme fatale, a succubus, or even a vamp. Nowadays, there was a new term, cougar, which she liked better. It didn’t carry such negative connotation and was, in fact, closer to the truth.
Not that anyone would dare think of her as an older woman. Amanda shuddered at the thought.
She was a beautiful, young female.
Her fake birth certificate stated that she was born on the sixth of May, 1984. It got the sixth of May right, but the actual year of her birth was 1773.
Amanda was over two hundred years old.
The funny thing was, for a near-immortal she truly was young. Kian was four years shy of two thousand—the old goat. Compared to the life spans of mortals, though…
Well, what they didn’t know didn’t hurt them. She was what she was—what biology and her kin’s traditions made her—a lustful, hedonistic, near-immortal.
Amanda liked who she was, and she loved her life. Most of it anyway.
At last, as the classroom began to settle down, she spotted Kian, flanked by his trusted sidekicks—number one and number two as she nicknamed Brundar and Anandur. The three headed for the back row, where seats immediately became available, vacated by their occupants who scurried to find a place elsewhere.
Good.
Amanda would never admit it, but Kian’s approval meant a lot to her. Being that much older, he fulfilled both the roles of the father she’d never had and a big brother.
Lately, the clan’s holdings were increasing at a staggering pace, and managing their family’s extensive affairs was taking up most of Kian’s waking time. It had taken relentless nagging to pry him away for a couple of hours to come see his baby sister teach.
3
Kian
Kian was taken by surprise when the lecture reached its end with a lively discussion concerning free will. Enchanted by Amanda’s renditio
n of the mysterious nature of consciousness and the brain’s uncharted neural pathways, he had lost track of time just like the rest of her students. Even Brundar and Anandur, who’d expected to be bored out of their minds, had been listening—riveted throughout the entire class.
“It’s time to go,” Kian whispered, motioning for them to follow as he pushed to his feet. Leaving Amanda’s mesmerized audience behind, they sneaked out of the lecture hall unnoticed, which in itself served as another testament to her skill. More often than not, the three of them attracted a lot of unwanted attention; be it admiration from females, or apprehension from males.
Then again, establishing their headquarters in a big city that was home to the film and music industry had its perks. On the streets of Los Angeles—with all of its actors, musicians, and wannabes of the same—a bunch of tall, good-looking men wasn’t an unusual sight.
Once outside, Kian squinted at the glaring sun and pulled on his custom-made, heavy-duty sunglasses. Unlike his native Scotland, it rarely got cloudy enough here for him to forgo the shades. And at this time of year in particular, the bright orb’s glare was brutal on his over-sensitive eyes.
Not that it got significantly better during what passed for winter in Southern California.
Pulling up to the curb, his black SUV with its dark-tinted windows attracted the interest of the few people on the street. Thankfully, no one lingered to gawk.
“She’s really good. Even I got it,” Anandur remarked as he opened the passenger door for Kian.
With a slight nod, Brundar seconded his brother’s opinion.
“I still hate the idea of her being so publicly exposed. It’s risky. All it will take is for some nosy reporter to go digging into her fake dossier, and all hell will break loose.” His temper on the rise, Kian slammed the SUV’s door.
