“How? How is any of this possible?”
She jumped up from her seat.
“This is . . . nuts. I am nothing, no one. There’s nothing special about me. I grew up in a rural town in the middle of nowhere. Aside from my father leaving and then dying, nothing extraordinary has ever happened to me.”
Kenton stood, recalling her saying as much once before.
“I don’t win anything. Not the lottery, like Lawrence . . .”
Kenton’s brows raised at that.
“Or even those peelback cards at carnivals. Every good thing in my life, I’ve fought for. School, my degrees. Even my friends. I’ve been burned so many times by being naive. “Too nice,” my brother says. So I guard the people I can trust with my life, try to enjoy the little moments when I can . . .”
Tears sprang to her eyes. Why was she telling him all of this? She couldn’t trust this man.
“This cannot be happening to me.”
Kenton reached out and grabbed her arm. There was that look in his eyes again—desire and something else.
“Do you hear me?” she asked.
She was being irrational now, and she knew it. But Alessandra couldn’t stop. He had the wrong person. This . . . Cheld . . . it was not her.
“I hear you,” he said, inching closer to her. “I feel you.” He slipped his arm behind her back and pulled her toward his chest.
A million emotions flooded her at once. But one was stronger than all of the rest. And as his hand moved from her arm upward, sweeping back her hair, his intentions were suddenly crystal clear.
And only one of those million emotions mattered.
Chapter 8
Desire.
He should sink his teeth into her, drain her of blood before Mary came looking for him. Lawrence could not come inside his home without his permission. This was his chance, and he may not get another. He should ensure this woman was eliminated as a threat, and then give the word for her mother and brother to receive the same fate.
But the only feeling he could conjure at the moment was a desire so great Kenton had no choice but to give in.
He reached behind her neck and pulled her toward him, his lips covering hers so completely that she had no choice but to open for him. She did so eagerly, their mouths crashing together.
It was the pull, the legendary pull of the Cheld that no vampire could resist. As his mouth slanted over hers, his tongue finding its target, he called on centuries of restraint in an attempt to force himself away from her.
Instead, Kenton reached his hands up to cup Alessandra’s head and wove his fingers through her soft hair.
I am not extraordinary.
How wrong she was, and he meant to prove it to her.
Their tongues tangling, their bodies pressing together, he and this very extraordinary woman kissed as if it were their first, and their last. Because it had to be. Lawrence would tell her the truth, all of it, if given the opportunity.
But he didn’t want to think of Lawrence now. He didn’t want to think of the curse, or the counter-curse, or all the reasons this was madness.
Pulling back, he brought his hands to each side of her face and held them there.
“You talk of enjoying little moments.”
She gripped his forearms then, her touch warm and inviting.
“I’ve never been kissed quite like that before.”
At that moment, he wished to eradicate every one of her boyfriends—all of whom he knew by name—from her mind.
“Your heightened senses . . .”
Their faces were so close he could feel her warm breath on his face. And even though he was aware of losing himself in the depths of her deep brown eyes, he did not fight it.
“No. It’s more than that—”
He felt it too, though he longed to deny it. Those lips, moistened from their kiss, drew him to her. But she stopped him.
“No, wait. I have something important to tell you.”
He refused to let go of her, the smooth cheeks beneath his hands as precious as the most priceless porcelain.
“These . . . these abilities you speak of. I believe you. I believe all of it.”
“Because it is the truth.”
“You mentioned a special, unique ability—”
“Most of the Cheld develop something of their own, some common, others not as much.”
“And I have!” Breathless, and excited, Alessandra looked as if she had just ridden a horse for the first time. And loved it. Her expression reminded him of the way his brother Rowan had looked after he’d won his first joust at the Tournament of the North.
“What is that?” he heard himself asking.
“Danger, Kenton. I can sense you mean me no harm, that you wish to help me. Just as I sensed with Lawrence. Maybe that’s why I believe everything you told me today.”
No, Alessandra. If that is your gift, then your ancestors have forsaken you.
She smiled, a beautiful, perfect smile. And then she did something even worse.
Alessandra stared at his mouth. Her own lips parted, the invitation clear.
As long as he’d lived, and it had been a long time indeed, Kenton had never wanted to accept an invitation more. He wanted to kiss her so hard his lips hurt, lift that tantalizing sundress over her head and discover the treasures that lay beneath. He wanted to sink into her, his cock and his teeth, claiming her body and her eternity in one fell swoop.
But he could not kiss her. He could not make love to her.
The last person in his family to trust a Cheld, his father, had paid the ultimate price for it before the Cheld even had a name. His mother, who’d had the voice of an angel and the heart of a saint, had been snuffed out.
Alessandra had to die.
He lowered his head toward her neck and bared his fangs. Or tried to. This had not happened since those first few days after he’d turned.
Kenton’s body had betrayed him.
Every inch of her craved his kiss. A kiss she’d thought he was about to give her as he leaned toward her. Inexplicably, just as she felt the warmth of his breath on her neck, Kenton stopped and pulled away. She didn’t know why, and his eyes did not betray his thoughts. He simply stared at her, the tortured soul she’d always sensed evident in his expression.
“Go.”
She stared at him, his command not penetrating.
“Go,” he said more harshly, releasing her. “Now.”
His command was joined by one from her gut—an impulse to run that came in a powerful surge like the undertow of a wave. She didn’t question it. Or second-guess herself. Instead, Alessandra trusted that instinct and fled, running from the sitting room, through the hall, and out onto the front porch. She didn’t pause when Lawrence yelled out to her, just ran and ran and ran until she arrived back at home and slammed her front door behind her. She stood with her back against it and sank to the floor, attempting to make sense of what had just happened.
Shit.
What a friggin’ roller coaster. She hadn’t been expecting unicorns and rainbows when she’d made the decision to confront him, but nothing could have prepared her for . . . that.
If the odd sensations she’d been experiencing weren’t enough—the unusual strength and speed, heightened senses, and an increasing awareness of both Kenton and Lawrence—now she had to contend with the lingering taste of him on her lips. She could still feel the ropy muscles of his forearms beneath her fingertips. Closing her eyes, she let herself fall into the memory of their kiss. His large hands had cupped her cheeks so gently for one so . . . powerful.
Power exuded from him, in a way that went beyond his obvious wealth and strength, his buff and well-conditioned body. In a way that was similar to hers, but different.
I am a Cheld.
It was bat-shit crazy, but if Lawrence really did want to kill her, confirming it would be simple. She’d never sensed danger from him before, but she would simply ask him and trust these newfound Cheld abilities to g
uide her and protect her.
Scrambling up from her not-so-comfortable seat on the hardwood floor, Alessandra peered outside. Nothing. Nobody in view, and no sign of Kenton or Lawrence.
Opening the door a crack, she waited. Still nothing.
I’m either super brave or a complete idiot.
Not enough of an idiot to seek out either of the strangers just yet, but maybe there was another way to get some answers.
Alessandra pushed her way through the front door, then closed it with a thud and walked as casually as possible down the street, trying to ignore the smell of waffle cones from the Creamery. Kenton was right about her senses. They were keener than they’d been. And though her vision seemed much the same, she noticed a lot more now.
It looked like a typical late afternoon weekday on Main Street in Stone Haven. Locals mixed with a few tourists, the latter easily discernible as they stared at the shops in wonder. She’d done the same in the beginning, reveling in the throwback feel of what truly was the perfect small American town. Though she’d lived here for years now, she could still appreciate the simple comforts of her home.
Well, typically she could anyway.
But not today.
She peered down each alleyway she passed, waiting for Lawrence or Kenton to pop out, but neither of them appeared to be following her. A relieved sigh gusted out of her when she finally reached Curiosities.
“She already left for Murphy’s,” Toni’s aunt said as she entered the store and walked toward the register.
“Actually,” Alessandra said, pulling up her usual stool, “I’m here to talk to you.”
On the plumper side, with a muted shade of Toni’s red hair that was styled faithfully each week by her beloved hairdresser, Birdie was five foot nothing of pure intimidation. She was also one of Alessandra’s favorite people in the world. When her mother came to visit, she always brought Birdie a gift to thank her for looking after Alessandra.
Birdie was also more than a touch eccentric. Hence the nickname.
She and her husband had owned Ye Old Curiosities since the early seventies. Not much had changed about it since, and Alessandra often teased that it was a front for her aunt to practice magic or something of the sort. Birdie believed in all manner of things, including ghosts, and the shop’s merchandise reflected her fascination with a different world.
One Alessandra had never, before now, believed in.
“Well, then, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Alessandra waited as a young woman and her toddler walked up to the counter. “Just this, please,” the woman said, sliding her selection across the counter.
Edgar Allan Poe temporary tattoos.
She’d once bought an old-fashioned Poe lunch box and candies for Charlotte, assuming every English teacher liked the poet. But while Charlotte had appreciated the birthday gift, she’d later admitted she found Poe a bit creepy.
Some would say the same about this entire shop. It carried everything from inspirational bracelets and quirky birthday cards to items bordering the macabre. Potions and ancient swords shared shelf space with fake skulls and candy tombstones.
When the customer finally left, Alessandra looked into Birdie’s kind face and wondered how much to tell her.
Ah, the hell with it.
“Has Toni told you anything about the two men who just moved to town?”
“The ones that purchased the mansions on the hill?”
Of course she would have heard of it. If only one of them had been sold, it would have been the news of the century in Stone Haven. But both? In the same week? To two equally gorgeous young men?
The town might never recover.
“Yes. So she mentioned them?”
Birdie nodded. “Only to say you went on a date with one of them.”
Her conspiratorial smile almost made Alessandra change her mind. She hated to get anyone else caught up in this, but she didn’t know who else to go to for help. And help was something she desperately needed.
“Yeah, well—”
“I take it the date didn’t go so well?”
She had a flash of Kenton’s face, his eyes twin wells of desire as he pulled her to him and . . .
Birdie’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
If only it were something as simple as, It turns out he doesn’t like me, or He’s not a very good kisser. But her life had become so much more complicated than that.
“I’m coming to you because I know you have an open mind—”
Birdie frowned.
“And I know you won’t judge me or think I’m crazy—”
“Alessandra, I know you to be anything but. Now tell me, what’s—”
“The one I went out with, Kenton, claims I am something called a Cheld, descended from a medieval healer whose children were gifted with special powers. It sounds ridiculous, but strange things have been happening to me this week. Actually, it began last weekend. I can run faster, without getting winded, no matter how far I go. And hear better. It’s like—”
“Slow down.”
To her credit, Birdie merely looked curious. She hadn’t suggested that Alessandra commit herself to a locked ward.
Not yet anyway.
“It’s nuts,” she continued, not able to stop now. “But I can sense it’s true. I . . . I feel it in my bones. And I have a special sense about both of them too. I can tell when they’re near, and whether or not they pose a danger to me. Sometimes it feels like . . . like my body isn’t my own—”
“You’re scared.”
Understatement of the year.
“And they each claim the other wants to kill me.” She tried to smile, hoping a little levity might make this all feel less hopeless and messed up. “Almost forgot to mention that.”
Birdie’s curiosity had turned to concern, but one look at her face told Alessandra her hopes had been for naught. If Birdie had learned anything in her investigations of the unknown, it wasn’t about the Cheld or Alessandra’s strange new abilities.
“You’ve never heard of this before.”
Birdie shook her head. “No.”
“And you think I’ve lost it.”
Taking her hands, Birdie looked her straight in the eyes. “I think nothing of the sort. Now, you listen to me, missy. There are things in the world we can’t explain, whether you’re talking about the afterlife, the sixth sense, magic, or miracles. When we aren’t able to prove something exists, many of us jump to denial. We may even think those who do believe are crazy.”
Guilty as charged.
“But trust your gut, Alessandra. If your gut tells you it’s true, then you know better than any man, woman, or child who hasn’t gone through the same experience. Maybe go to the—”
“Police? And tell them what exactly?”
Birdie let go of her hands and gripped the counter in front of her instead.
“What are your instincts telling you to do?”
She tried to tap into some of that sixth sense Birdie had mentioned, but . . . nothing.
“Uh . . .”
“I’ll look into this and find out what I can, but in the meantime, you need to keep yourself safe. Maybe now would be a good time to visit your mom.”
But Alessandra wasn’t listening. Her gaze had snagged on the knife that sat among a collection of skulls that she walked past every time she entered the shop. She’d never paid it any mind until now, but she could not stop looking at it.
“Alessandra?”
For a moment, it was physically impossible to avert her gaze from that knife, but she finally managed to look away and meet Birdie’s concerned gaze.
“You told me to trust my gut?”
Birdie didn’t answer.
“Well, my gut is telling me I need that knife.”
The older woman’s eyes widened. “And what else is it saying?”
She smiled, at peace with her decision, even if it was not logical.
“It’s telling me to stay. Not to run h
ome, or even to go to the police. It’s telling me to stay and”—she lifted her chin—“to keep that spa appointment I made for tomorrow and treat myself to a bit of relaxation because”—she looked back at Birdie—“something tells me I’m going to need it.”
Chapter 9
Kenton had barely moved since he’d bid Alessandra to leave. After dismissing Mary for the week, with pay, he cradled his head in his hands, listening to the insistent knocking from outside without moving to investigate.
He didn’t need to.
It would be Lawrence, demanding an answer he couldn’t give him.
Never, not once since finding his mother splayed on the ground, dead, his brothers’ roars of anguish deafening him, had Kenton hesitated. Those stunned moments of anguish had allowed his mother’s murderer to get away, and ever since that crucial mistake, he’d made it a point not to question himself. Not to second-guess his actions.
Until today.
Squeezing the drink Mary had made him before she left, Kenton crushed the cocktail glass with his hands. Shards of glass splintered his skin. He paced, shattering the remaining glass with his shoes and watching the wounds on his hand slowly heal.
He’d let her live.
Why?
Certainly he desired her, but he had desired many women throughout the years. Was it because she was Cheld? Their ability to draw vampires to them was the greatest power they possessed over his kind. He’d dealt with plenty of her ancestors before, some as beautiful, and all of them cunning. Unlike Alessandra, most of them had known about their ancestry. Most had been prepared for their destiny. Most of them had been hunters just as deadly as their prey.
But Alessandra hadn’t known the first thing about her bloodline. As such, she’d only begun to develop the abilities she’d need to overtake a vampire now that he and Lawrence were in town. She would become more and more powerful each day, even with only pieces of the puzzle that was her destiny.
This had been his best chance to kill her, and he had instead let her live.
Hurling an antique coffee table across the room, he bellowed in anger. His brothers would be rightly furious with him when they learned the truth. It was as if he’d spat on the memory of their parents.
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