Visions of Destiny (Complete Series) Read online

  He shook his head. “No. I’m saying there’s one thing I’ve never seen.”

  “And what is that?” Daisy asked, becoming more confused with each passing moment.

  “My own future. I’ve never kissed anyone and seen myself as the love of their life.”

  His words came out flat, but beyond them, Daisy could hear something she knew all too well: loneliness.

  “At first I only read women. I was looking for my future wife. And then one day it struck me. What if my future is with a guy? What if by passing reading on guys I just miss my one chance to find who I’m destined to be with?”

  She stared at him for a few seconds. They were back to the main problem she had with what he did.

  “But if you’re destined to be with them,” she asked a little impatiently, “wouldn’t you find them anyway?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. But would you risk it?” Turning his face back toward her, he held her gaze. “Honestly, now, Daisy. If having this viewing means you’ll find the one person that can make you happier than anything, and not having it means the possibility that you won’t find them, wouldn’t you take the chance? Even if it means kissing someone you despise?”

  No, I wouldn’t, Daisy wanted to reply, more to be contradictory than because she was sure of the answer, but it was something else entirely that passed her lips. “I don’t despise you,” she heard herself say.

  Woods turned around so that he was leaning back against the railing, his back to the ocean. His eyes were on her, his grin long gone. “You called me a fraud, as I recall,” he said, and there was no teasing left in his voice.

  The night air seemed chilly suddenly, and Daisy shivered despite her shawl. Standing straight, she wrapped her arms around herself. “Well, maybe now that I understand better what you’re doing…”

  “Does that mean you’ll let me read you?” he asked yet again.

  She shook her head, wondering why he was insisting so much. “I’m not your next client. Mike is. And unlike you, he doesn’t mind kissing men.”

  “True,” Mike said behind her, startling her enough that Daisy pressed a hand to her heart and gasped. “Although whenever possible I like to get more than just a name before the kissing part.”

  He was grinning as he approached, but his fisted hands in his pants pockets were a telltale sign of nervousness to anyone who knew him well enough. He had left his suit jacket inside. Daisy rubbed her arms and thought that he might regret it soon.

  “Well, you two can talk all night as far as I’m concerned,” she said, returning his smile, “but I think the others might object to that.”

  Mike gave a weak laugh. “I guess so, yes.” He shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “Mind leaving us alone?”

  “What, you don’t want a chaperone?” she teased and leaned up on the tips of her toes to press a quick kiss to Mike’s cheek. “Just kidding,” she said, then added in a whisper she hoped Woods wouldn’t catch, “Good luck.”

  After a quick look at Woods—and judging by his bemused expression, he had heard her—she stepped back inside, closing the glass door behind her. So far she had stayed until the beginning of the actual vision, but Mike had asked for privacy, and it felt wrong to watch after that. She returned to the dining room, joining her circle of friends, but already wondering what Mike would see.

  Her friends had pulled the chairs away from the dining table and into a loose circle. Brett had taken off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. Another jacket on the empty chair next to him marked it as Mike’s.

  “Sit with us,” Brett said, picking up Mike’s jacket from the seat and placing it over the back of the chair. “Do you want a drink?”

  As she sat down, Daisy tried to remember how many glasses of wine she had had so far. Three, maybe? She didn’t feel lightheaded, so she nodded and sat down. “Yes, thank you.”

  “You didn’t stay to chaperone?” Brad asked her, tongue in cheek.

  Daisy chuckled along with the rest of her friends. “They didn’t look like they needed me. Maybe I’ll check on them in a bit.”

  She accepted the glass Brett was handing her. While he was up, he refilled Rachel’s and Brad’s glasses, then held out a tray of amuse-bouche for all of them to pick from, even offering them napkins before he sat down again.

  “You’ve missed your calling,” Cathleen teased him. “You should have been a waiter, not a bar manager.”

  Brett laughed, raising his glass in a toast. He’d waited on tables all through college, learning about the business from both sides of things.

  “I still help on busy nights,” he said, then took a sip of his white wine. “We get so many different clients; half the fun is seeing who’s there.”

  They talked about his bar a little longer, and the city he had moved to, Haventown. It was just a couple hours south, but the city’s ambiance was reputed to be very different and much more welcoming to vampires. Brett said he had moved there because of a business opportunity that had been too good to miss, but Daisy had always wondered if maybe more than that had drawn Brett to Haventown. She could never stop herself from checking his neck and wrists every time she saw him—not that it meant anything, really. A bite mark could easily be hidden.

  “So how did you decide Joan would go before Mike?” Daisy asked when a lull rose in the conversation. “You were all much too amused when I asked before, there’s got to be a funny story there.”

  The five friends exchange glances before they burst out laughing together. Joan was the one who calmed down first and began to explain.

  “Well, Mike was saying he ought to go first because I’ve already got the love of my life and he’s had no luck finding his.” She tilted her head up toward Brad at that, lips pursed, and he planted a resounding kiss on her mouth. They were sitting next to each other, their chairs pulled close enough that Brad’s arm encircled her shoulders.

  “So,” Brad picked up the story, “I asked him how many times he’s gone out in the past year to try and find Mr. Right.” He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “And he got very quiet.”

  “We asked Brett,” Cathleen chimed in, sounding as amused as Brad, “because really, who else would know?”

  Daisy turned a mildly surprised look to Brett. “And you told them?”

  Brett seemed almost offended. “And betray Mike’s confidence? No. I didn’t tell them.” He took a sip of wine before he added ruefully, “But I’ll admit I might have chuckled. Just a little.”

  “You didn’t chuckle you laughed!” Joan interjected, drawing laughter from all of them. “And then Mike blushed like crazy. I started counting on my fingers: we tried to set him up with that guy I work with, they went on a blind date, so that was one.”

  “And I introduced him to my cousin,” Brett said, “but they never even went out for drinks, so that didn’t count as two.”

  “Let me guess,” Daisy said with a small, incredulous shake of her head. “He didn’t go on more than one date during the entire year, did he?”

  “That was it,” Joan confirmed. “He admitted it. And since he’s not looking all that hard for love, me going first was just as valid as him.”

  Rolling her eyes at how silly they could get, Daisy snorted. “That still doesn’t tell me how you decided who would go first.”

  “They flipped a coin,” Rachel finished the story in her usual quiet voice, and yet another round of laughter spread through the group.

  “So who’s going next?” Daisy asked after wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

  The laughs slowly quieted down as they all looked at each other.

  “If no one else volunteers, I think I will,” Cathleen said with a light shrug, then turned a curious look at Brad. “Are you still going to do it?”

  He beamed, instantly turning his eyes to Joan, who smiled right back. “Hell, yes,” he
said. “I want to see my boys, too.” He brushed a kiss to her lips before correcting himself. “Our boys.”

  Daisy hid a smile in her glass. She was really glad that Joan and Brad seemed to be all right, especially after what had happened with Lydia. Troubled again, she glanced back toward the balcony, and hoped that things would turn out all right for Mike, too.

  * * * *

  Mike was never, ever allowing his friends to set him up on a blind date again, not even if he had to spend the rest of his life alone.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you. Goodnight, then.”

  An awkward handshake later, Timmy—honestly, what grown man asked a potential relationship interest to call him Timmy on the first date?—rose from the small table and headed straight for the club’s exit. Mike consoled himself with the thought that at least Timmy wasn’t stopping on the dance floor to try and pick up someone else. That would have been the last straw.

  As he took several large gulps from his vodka cocktail, Mike let his gaze trail over the club. He had been there for more than an hour, and he had grown accustomed to the lack of light, enough so to appraise the club’s clientele. For someone on the market—someone like him—this certainly was a great place. All types of men crowded the place, dancing, playing pool in the back, sitting at the bar or at small tables like he and Timmy had been. All he had to do, really, was decide what he wanted. Blonde or brunette. Flamboyantly gay or more masculine. Someone tall and bulky enough to wrap him in his arms or someone with a smaller build, who would need to tilt his head up to kiss him.

  Finishing his drink, Mike slipped a tip beneath his coaster and stood up, feeling a bit tipsy. He didn’t know what kind of man he wanted, in his bed or in his life, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t find him here—if for no other reason that he couldn’t imagine approaching anyone here, not even the handsome man at the bar.

  Or maybe…

  Mike blinked and shook his head, trying to get a grip on thoughts that seemed as fuzzy as mist. When he looked again, the man hadn’t moved. He was sitting on a high stool at the bar, a beer bottle in his hand as he leaned back against the counter and observed the dancing crowd. His left foot tapped a beat against the bottom rung of the stool, and a small smile stretched across his lips, making him look like a picture of sheer relaxation.

  He looked vaguely familiar, and as Mike stumbled his way through the crowd and toward the bar, he tried to figure out why. He was fairly certain he didn’t actually know him. Maybe he had seen him at the bar before? It had been more than six months since he had come to the club, though, and his memory for faces wasn’t that good. Even for good looking faces such as this man’s, his strong jaw balanced by a sensual mouth, bright green eyes sparkling with life as they swept over the dancers—and over Mike, too, with no glimmer of recognition in his gaze.

  His eyes, though, were what decided Mike in the end to do more than just get closer. Even in the darkened room, with strobe lights pulsating over them and throwing shadows everywhere, those eyes were captivating, drawing Mike all the way to the bar. He was going to talk to him, he told himself, remembering how his friends had teased him during their New Year party about being too shy. It would probably be a mistake, and Green Eyes was certainly going to laugh at him before he was even done talking. But he was just tipsy enough to try his luck; tipsy, and lonely, and a little sorry for himself.

  He finally reached the bar and, sitting next to Green Eyes, he propped his cheek on his closed fist. His elbow slipped on the counter before he could catch himself again.

  “I want to sleep with you,” he said, slurring the words a little.

  Green Eyes raised an eyebrow at him and considered him for a few seconds. “Does that pick up line usually work for you?” he asked, a wry chuckle hiding in his words.

  “First time I used it,” Mike said truthfully. “Ask me again in half an hour.”

  “Half an hour?” Green Eyes laughed. “You think that’s all I’m worth? Not even a full hour?”

  Mike frowned, trying to figure out if he was being mocked or encouraged. He licked his lips and pushed a little more. “Would you give me a full hour?” he asked with a forced grin. “Two? A full night?”

  Another laugh, this time accompanied by a small shake of the head. Things weren’t looking too good. But still, Green Eyes wasn’t turning away or telling Mike to fuck off. Instead, he pointed out, “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Michael.” The answer had come out at once, but Mike didn’t bother asking for a name back. He wasn’t drunk enough to think an actual relationship could come out of this. He wouldn’t mind a few hours of warmth and company, though. “So what about it? Wanna give me an hour of your life? I promise you won’t regret it.”

  The laugh, this time, was weaker, almost forced. Green Eyes took a sip from his beer. “Why me?” he asked, and gestured toward the dance floor. “There are a hundred guys alone here tonight. Most trying to hook up, and a fair number better looking than I am.”

  Mike blinked, but his gaze never looked away from sparkling green. “I guess that’s a matter of opinion,” he said, shrugging lightly.

  Green Eyes’ lips curled into a sardonic grin. He rolled his eyes at Mike. “So you think I’m good looking?” he drawled. He brought the beer bottle back to his lips and drank deep.

  Mike watched the long line of his throat as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and had the sudden desire to scratch his teeth against that perfect skin and leave his mark.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice lower now, almost rough. “I do think so. And you’ve got really pretty eyes, too.”

  Green Eyes snorted and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn’t even bother with an eye roll this time; the derision was clear enough in his words. “Gosh, your pick up lines are getting worse by the minute.”

  Whatever hopes Mike had harbored sunk to the bottom of his stomach. He could taste the burn of the acid at the back of his throat. This was why he rarely went to clubs or tried to flirt with guys. He was terrible at enduring rejection.

  “I guess they’re not working, then, huh?” he asked, dejected, and dropped his gaze from Green Eyes’ face. His half-finished beer was propped on his thigh, and when he raised it to his mouth again Mike could see the wet circle the condensation had left on the denim.

  “It usually takes a lot more work to sweep me off my feet,” Green Eyes said, drawing Mike’s eyes back to him.

  Mike raised a curious eyebrow at him. “Usually? Does that mean my pathetic pick-up lines are working?”

  Green Eyes reached back to place his empty bottle on the counter behind him. He didn’t look back at Mike, and instead looked over at the dancers again, his gaze as restless as it had been when Mike first approached him.

  “What are you going to do if I say no?” he asked, nonchalant, as though he had already dismissed Mike from his immediate thoughts. “Move on to the next guy and tell him he has the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen? And again until some brainless idiot believes you?”

  “No, I’ll just go home and feel sorry for myself.” Mike stood, wavering a little so that he had to steady himself with a hand on the counter. “And for what it’s worth, you do have gorgeous eyes. Sorry for bothering you.”

  He pushed away from the counter and started walking toward the exit. Part of him hoped, without really believing it, that Green Eyes would stop him before he could leave, but he soon reached the cool night air without anyone calling for him.

  He took a deep breath, and the crispness of the air helped dissipate a little of the tipsy feeling that clung to his brain. He pushed a hand into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and looked at them. He shouldn’t have ordered that third cocktail, but he had been pretty nervous and things had not been going so well with—what had been his supposed date’s name, again?

  He pushed the keys back in his pocket with a smal
l sigh and started walking down the street, eyes on the pavement in front of him. The streetlights cast yellow circles on the asphalt every few feet, and he started absentmindedly counting them. He was on number three when he tripped over his own feet, startled by the unexpected question that suddenly came from behind him.

  “How drunk are you, anyway?”

  He fell to the pavement, and missed hitting his chin only by catching himself hard on his hands. He grunted at the impact, then rolled over to see Green Eyes standing over him, head cocked to one side and a mildly concerned expression on his face.

  “Too drunk to drive,” he said, then snorted quietly. “And apparently too drunk to walk without taking a spill.”

  His self-esteem bruised, he accepted the hand offered to him; a large hand, very warm, that easily pulled him to his feet. He nodded his thanks and started walking again. Green Eyes feel into step with him, matching his strides.

  “And yet not drunk enough not to realize you shouldn’t drive,” Green Eyes said. “Interesting. So, you’re just going to walk home?”

  Mike shrugged. “It’s only seven blocks. I’ll be halfway sober by the time I get there, so I can start brooding properly.”

  Green Eyes laughed, this time without the music and chatter of the club to drown out the sound. It was a nice laugh, Mike thought as he sneaked a sideways glance at him. Rich and deep, but not mocking, like Green Eyes was laughing with him rather than at him.

  “What’s with the brooding?” he asked, catching Mike’s eyes. “You can’t possibly be that desperate to get laid.”

  Mike could almost have believed there was a compliment hiding somewhere in that remark, but he chastised himself at the thought. He’d made enough of a fool of himself for one night.

  “Maybe not desperate,” he said coolly, looking away. “But it’s been a while since I got any action other than my hand.”

  There was no laughter this time. “Keep it up and I’ll start brooding with you.”

  Mike didn’t try to hide his glance, nor his surprise. “So you’ll walk with me,” he said, biting back his bitterness, “brood with me, but not sleep with me?”