Visions of Destiny (Complete Series) Page 8

  Her fumbling left hand pushed her hair away. She tilted her head, offering him her bared neck. Her right hand was at the back of his head, her fingers threaded in the short strands of hair there. She didn’t pull him to her neck but merely accompanied his movement.

  He pressed his softest kiss yet to the crook of her neck, right over her pulse point. Her marks would match his, she thought dazedly, and smiled at the idea.

  “I’ll try not to hurt you too much,” he murmured. She shivered at the feel of the words against her hyper-sensitized skin. “But I’m sorry if I do.”

  Before she could think of an answer, she felt the sharp pain of his fangs sliding into her skin, like two points of fire branding her body. She cried out. Her fingers tightened into his hair, although she couldn’t have said if it was to pull him closer or push him away.

  She did neither. As his fangs retracted, the sharp pain went with them, leaving only a dull throbbing. And then…

  “Oh, God…”

  He started pulling on her blood, and part of her shook at the pain of it. Her life and warmth were leaving her with each slow pull, each swallow. It would have been unbearable if it hadn’t been Owen warming from her blood, if he hadn’t been rocking his cock inside her with each slow suck of his mouth, if, with the pain, mixed so inextricably that they might as well have been one and the same, pleasure hadn’t been filling her completely. Her eyes wide yet unseeing, she started shaking, her mouth open for a cry that never passed her lips.

  Only when his rocking became erratic and she felt him pulse inside her did it strike her—small orgasms had been rolling over her body since he had started drawing her blood. The wondrous feeling made her want to laugh and cry at the same time, but she could do neither. All she could do was feel Owen’s mouth on her, his lips and tongue sucking and pulling more blood from her. Her hand fell from his head to his back, and she could have sworn he was warm beneath her touch—warm from her blood.

  She felt lightheaded, and bright spots of color were bursting in front of her eyes. Her eyelids closed, and the colors spun inside her head, recreating the paintings Owen had shown her tonight. She hadn’t told him how much she liked them, she suddenly realized with a sense of horror. How could she have forgotten something so essential! He had to know. She had to tell him. She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come. After, she promised herself. She would tell him when it was all over. She would. It was so hard to think now…

  She didn’t feel him withdrawing from her, but he must have, because they were lying down, her head cradled against his shoulder. She tried to raise her hand to rest it on his chest, but forgot what she wanted to do before her hand lifted more than an inch. It settled down again on his hip.

  Sleep pulled at her, making her drowsy, but as she started drifting away, soft words and even softer caresses drew her back to Owen.

  “That’s it,” he murmured as her eyelids fluttered open. “Look at me, love, just a little longer.”

  His thumb pressed on her bottom lip and pulled her mouth open.

  “Drink, now. Take as much as you can.”

  She wanted to ask what it was he wanted her to drink, but something was pressing against her lips. Smooth, silky skin. It wasn’t as cool as usual. A thick liquid trickled past her lips, coating her tongue and sliding down her throat. She swallowed reflexively.

  Part of her knew, abstractly, that it was blood, but disgust and repulsion were beyond her. It tasted strange, she thought dimly. Not at all like she would have expected from the taste of her own blood when she had cut herself and stuck her finger into her mouth without thinking. It didn’t taste good, but it wasn’t bad, either. Instead, it was…different. It felt strong, full of life, and light, but also shadows, all coiled into one, reinforcing each other by their simple association.

  The painting of Owen’s hand on her breast drifted back to the front of her slowing mind. This was what the blood tasted like, like that touch, those shapes, those contrasting colors. In that moment, nothing had ever been clearer to her, nothing had ever been so true, and she wanted to share her insight with Owen.

  When his wrist lifted from her lips, she tried to explain it to him, but words escaped her. She felt as though she were in a cocoon made of wool that stopped light and sound, leaving only touch to her senses. Even that started to dim, but not before she felt Owen’s arms wrap around her and pull her tight against his body.

  She drifted away knowing he wouldn’t let go. Not ever.

  * * * *

  All of a sudden, Lydia jerked and drew in a hissing breath through her teeth. She raised a shaky hand to her throat and touched it gingerly before looking at her fingers. The look on her face was one of pure wonder.

  Next to Daisy, Jack lurched forward. His hand came up to rest against the glass of the window, and for an instant it seemed that it was the only thing holding him up. On the balcony, Lydia was still sitting, her head now turned away from them, toward the ocean. Across from her, Woods finally raised his head, and Daisy could see his eyelids flutter open. She opened the window, and the soft click of the latch drew Woods’ and Lydia’s attention.

  Lydia stood, and when she stepped forward, Jack went to her. He wrapped her arms around her and drew her into a hug. Something twisted inside Daisy when she realized that, even though Lydia was returning the hug, her eyes were still vacant and seemed to be avoiding looking at Jack.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

  “Everything’s fine,” she replied, but her voice sounded off, somehow. “I’m thirsty.”

  Jack released her from the hug but kept a hand at her waist as he guided her off the balcony. She followed his lead, stopping only after she had crossed the threshold to the living room. Jack gave her a questioning look, but she was already looking back at Woods.

  “Thank you,” she said, raising her voice a little.

  Woods blinked and slowly turned his head to her. He nodded twice but did not reply. Jack cleared his throat, and pulled Lydia back to the living room. After watching them go, Daisy stepped onto the balcony and sat in the chair Lydia had vacated.

  “Please don’t ask me,” Woods said before she could say a word. “It’s her future, and no one but her has a right to know.”

  He wiped his hands on his pants before raising his eyes to meet Daisy’s. They seemed more heavily lined that they had been earlier that night. She had been about to say that she agreed, and that in her opinion Woods didn’t have a right to know either, but she didn’t feel like arguing about it now, she realized, not when he seemed so troubled.

  “I wasn’t going to ask,” she assured him. “Are you all right?”

  He passed a hand through his hair and laughed nervously. “Oh, I’m fine, just fine.”

  His gaze slipped to the window, and he looked inside the cottage. His expression darkened a little more. Daisy wondered if he could see Lydia and Jack from where he sat. She tried not to wonder about what he had seen.

  “Have you ever come here before?” she asked, drawing his attention back to her.

  He gave her a puzzled look. “Here? You mean, to this house?”

  She nodded. “I know Helen had a few parties here with her friends.” All her siblings had, and so had Daisy before that night, but her sister was the most outgoing out of the four of them. “I thought she might have invited you. You must have been really popular in college.”

  He shook his head at that and laughed, though his eyes still had a haunted quality to them. “I’m not sure popular is the right word. I tried to keep what I can do quiet, but there was always someone who would blurt out too much at parties, so I tried to avoid them as a rule. But now that you mention it, I do remember Helen inviting me a couple of times. If I had known the place was so nice, I might have accepted.”

  It wasn’t the house he looked at, though, but the ocean. Daisy leaned back in th
e chair and considered him over her linked fingers. “I thought you enjoyed doing what you do. When you’re on TV—”

  He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “You shouldn’t believe anything you see on TV, don’t you know that?”

  He stood abruptly and went to lean against the railing. “It really is a beautiful view. Very calm, too.”

  “Wait until midnight,” Daisy said, troubled. “There’ll be fireworks all over the bay.”

  “Fireworks, heh?” he turned, now leaning back against the balcony. He seemed tired. “Get me my next customer, then, so I can be done before midnight.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked as she stood. “If you’d rather—”

  “I said I’d read ten people, Daisy. I realize you don’t like what it is that I do, and that is entirely your right. But I try to keep my word when I say I’ll do something.”

  She nodded and left the balcony, not bothering to tell him that it would only be nine. She would let him know later, she told herself. She wasn’t keeping quiet because he was slowly changing her mind about him, not at all.

  Third Vision of Destiny - Joan

  A gust of wind carrying the salty scent of the ocean brushed over Daisy when she turned away from Sam Woods, ready to go back inside to bring him the next person whose future he would read. She shivered, telling herself that it was from the touch of the wind, and nothing more than that. The temperature of the air had dropped in the almost forty minutes it had taken Woods to read his first two clients of the evening, and while he was wearing a brown leather jacket over his shirt and dark jeans, Daisy herself only wore a summer dress. She hadn’t expected to spend her time going back and forth between the balcony and the inside of the cottage.

  The truth was, though, that the night air was only part of the reason why she suddenly felt so cold. She was bothered by how upset Woods appeared to be. He had just shown Daisy’s friend Lydia her future, using his strange seer ability to share with her a vision of the key decision that would shape her romantic life. Both Woods and Lydia had emerged from the experience visibly troubled.

  What could Woods possibly have seen that had affected him—and Lydia—so much? Daisy had thought these glimpses into the future were important moments, but nice ones, too; it seemed that she had been wrong. Indeed, now that she thought about it, she realized that not all decisions were pleasant to make, and even the ones that opened the way to better things could be painful.

  She laid her hand on the doorjamb of the French windows that opened into the living room. Before she could take more than a step back inside, however, Woods’ voice rose behind her.

  “Daisy?”

  She turned back to him. In the dim light that bathed the balcony, he seemed tired, and when he spoke he sounded restless. “I think I need a little break, after all. Something to eat, too, if that’s not too much trouble.”

  At once, Daisy berated herself for not thinking about it. She had brought him wine, but she should have offered him food as well. She made a poor hostess.

  “Of course,” she said quickly. “Do you want to come in or…” His expression answered her question before she even finished. “I’ll bring you a plate. And something to drink. More wine? Or would you rather have juice?”

  He offered her a grateful smile. “Juice would be fine for now. Thank you.”

  With a nod, she returned to the dining room. Seven of her friends were there, assembled around the dining room table and its refreshments. Out of those present, only Alicia had already gone to Woods for a glimpse of her future. Lydia wasn’t with the others, and neither was her boyfriend Jack. Where could they be, Daisy wondered. The cottage was spacious, but its open floor plan didn’t leave much room for privacy.

  All eyes turned to her as she approached, and Joan practically leaped forward.

  “Is he ready?” she asked, her impatience and excitement all too clear in her wide eyes.

  Daisy shook her head. “Not yet. He wants a bite to eat before he reads the next person. I guess that’ll be you?”

  Her gaze flickered from Joan to Mike as she finished; he had said before that he wanted to go next, but it appeared that Joan was ready to jump in.

  “Joan won,” Mike said with a sheepish shrug, and the rest of their friends laughed.

  “Won?” Daisy repeated with a bemused smile. “What did you do, have a challenge to decide who was going next?”

  Another round of laughter erupted through the group.

  “You don’t want to know,” Cathleen said, tongue in cheek, and she gave Mike a sly look.

  Daisy was astonished to discover that he was blushing faintly. She would definitely need to investigate, but later. Woods was waiting for his food.

  Leaving her friends for now, she started toward the kitchen, but changed her mind halfway there and decided to grab a shawl in the master bedroom first. The least she could do was to stay with Woods while he ate, and the air was getting chilly outside. She quickly found what she wanted in the closet, but as she walked out of the room again, she couldn’t help but overhear voices from the guest bedroom across the hallway. The door wasn’t fully closed, and she could see Jack’s back as he stood in front of Lydia.

  “Lydia… Come on, love. Tell me what you saw.”

  Daisy froze, her hands clenched on the woolen shawl. She wanted nothing more than to leave before she heard anything that wasn’t meant for her ears, but she didn’t seem to be able to move.

  “I can’t,” Lydia murmured, so low Daisy barely heard her.

  Through the narrow opening of the door, Daisy could only see part of her face. Her eyes were gleaming with unshed tears that twisted Daisy’s stomach. She had known this was all a bad idea. She had known her friends would get hurt. Why had she let them convince her to go through with all this?

  “Lydia, I need to know!”

  Jack’s right hand rose to clutch Lydia’s shoulder, and she covered it with her own hand, linking their fingers together.

  “I know you do,” she said gently. “But so do I. I need to remember. When the time comes, I’ll need as much certainty as I can that it’s the right choice. I won’t have that if I talk about it. Woods said we’d forget. I can’t forget.”

  “What choice?” Jack tried, but Lydia shook her head, smiling sadly.

  “Don’t ask. I won’t tell you what I saw.”

  Jack snatched back his hand. It fell at his side, curled into a fist. “At least tell me if we’ll still be together.”

  His voice was harsh, and Daisy winced. She had a feeling that Jack already thought he knew the answer to that question—and didn’t like it one bit.

  “You’ll have to ask Sam,” Lydia said, shaking her head again. “He’ll show you, and you’ll know for yourself.”

  Daisy finally managed to push herself into motion. She quickly withdrew from the hallway and, shivering a little, wrapped the shawl over her shoulders on her way to the kitchen. A glance back revealed that her friends were still laughing and enjoying themselves. Lydia’s and Jack’s absence appeared to have gone unnoticed.

  Her hands still shook a little when Daisy pulled a porcelain plate and a tall glass from the cupboard. She filled the glass with juice from the fridge and was about to go back to the dining room when Alicia came in, wearing her jacket and grinning sheepishly.

  “Are you still okay with me stealing your cake?” she asked, pointing at the rectangular box on the breakfast table.

  “Absolutely.” Daisy smiled at Alicia, then opened her arms to her for a quick hug. “Say hi to Ben for us. Do you need help taking the cake to your car?”

  “Jack said he’d help me,” Alicia said, her grin wavering.

  Daisy’s smile withered as well. If Alicia had talked to Jack and retrieved her jacket from the guest bedroom, she might have heard the end of that painful conversation. Daisy nodded her understanding.

 
; “I’m glad you came,” she said, relieved that at least one of her friends had walked away from her viewing happy. “I hope you have a fantastic New Year.”

  Alicia hugged her again. “Thanks, sweetie. The same to you.”

  Daisy picked up the glass of juice and plate just as Jack came in to help Alicia with the sheet cake. She couldn’t bear to look straight at him, and she kept her eyes on the glass as though anxious not to spill it. Lydia was back amongst their group of friends, although she stood a step back, a glass of wine in hand and a faint smile on her lips. Daisy quickly filled the plate with an assortment of amuse-bouche before returning to the balcony.

  She stopped past the French windows. Woods was still leaning against the railway, looking down at the beach. The moon was slowly sliding higher over the ocean, and in its light he was little more than a silhouette. He looked back over his shoulder, and a smile lit up his face when he saw Daisy there. Blinking, she stepped forward, clearing her throat to compose herself.

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” she said, handing him the plate. “So I just—”

  “It’s fine,” he interrupted gently. “It looks great. Thank you.”

  Resting his forearm on the railway, he started munching on the bite-sized treats. Daisy set the glass on the small wooden table by the chairs before sitting down. Her mind going back to the conversation she had overheard, she considered Woods. It wouldn’t be his fault if Lydia and Jack ended up splitting—but then again, without him and his viewing it might not have happened so soon, like this, or even at all.

  “How can you do this?” she asked after a little while.

  Woods turned, leaning back against the banister to face her. “Do what?” he asked wearily.

  Daisy drew the shawl more tightly over her shoulders, holding it closed with one hand. “Show people that the person they love is not the person they should be with.” Despite herself, her voice took an accusing tone on the last words. “Break their hearts.”