Nightwolf

And I don’t, not really. A vampire’s possession often happens without the other person even wanting it.

The thing is, I know she’s attracted to me, I can feel her desire even when she’s not aware of it, but that’s where it stops. Whether she feels something deeper, something more, that I can’t say. I don’t dare let myself examine it either way. I’m used to having females—vampires and humans—wanting me. Been that way for centuries. Humans are easily compelled, even when I’m not trying, and female vampires, well, I suppose I have the right combination of charm, stature and good looks, with a bit of arrogance that they seem to love.

But my arrogance only goes so far, and I’m not cocky enough to assume that Amethyst has any deep feelings for me. Love? I’m not even sure that’s her style. She’s a loving person, there’s no doubt there. The love she has for her mother is strong and palpable. But she has this light and breezy way about her, like she’s a flower caught in the wind, never quite sure when she’s going to set down and happy to just keep it easy. It’s one of the reasons why I like her so much, she makes me feel like the shadows of my life, the bloody footprints I’ve left behind, are staying in the past and that when I’m with her, I’m practically buoyant. I escape into the darkness, but she’s my light that’s always there when I need it the most.

No, I don’t think Amethyst is in love with me, and more than that, I wouldn’t want her to be. I would only hurt her in the end, and that’s the last thing I want. The only thing I do know for sure is that she might be as attracted to me as I am to her. Whether that’s because I’m a vampire or because she sees the real me, that remains to be seen. It wouldn’t be the first time I thought someone wanted me—Wolf Eriksen—when it turned out they just wanted the myth and the legend of what I am instead.

I’m lost in my thoughts about her when suddenly the sound of pool balls breaking fills my ears, while the temperature in the room seems to drop to freezing.

What the fuck?

I’m fast on my feet, staring at the French doors to the cigar lounge where the table is. The doors are closed, as they were before, and from my angle I can’t see the table.

“Amethyst?” I call out, my voice sounding flat. A cloud of vapors forms from my breath in the chilled air. “Is that you?” Maybe she was in there the whole time.

Fuck. I sure as hell hope not. She doesn’t have vampire senses, but she is awfully good at hearing things she shouldn’t. The last thing I need is her having heard all that.

I walk cautiously toward the room, feeling more on edge than I should. I never get scared. It’s not really a thing when you’re above humans on the food chain. And yet, something has my hair standing on end, my pulse thrumming in my veins.

Maybe it’s a witch, I think. A vampire slayer that broke through the wards of the house.

But when I look through the doors, I see the room is totally empty.

I open the doors and step into the cigar lounge, and if it’s possible, this room is even colder. There’s a feeling in here, one that’s thick in the air with fear and dread and sadness, and even though I’m not panicking, it stirs up similar emotions from my past. There’s something familiar about this, and yet I have no idea why. That’s the problem with déjà vu when you’re as old as I am, you can never remember where to pin it.

I walk through the room anyway, noting the balls on the pool table have all been scattered across the green felt. Except, something isn’t right. There are twice the amount of balls as there should be for a game, and they’ve been arranged as if it’s spelling something out.

I frown and walk around the table to get a better look.

Pray.

The balls spell out pray.

“The fuck is this?” I say out loud. We do have ghosts in the house, but none of them have ever sent a literal message before. “Pray for what?”

Suddenly, the skin on my scalp prickles and I know there’s someone else here, someone behind me.

I turn around in a flash, prepared to chastise myself for actually expecting to see something.

Yet I do see something.

There’s a woman standing in the middle of Dark Eyes, right where I was just sitting. Her back is to me and she’s dressed in a hospital gown. Her posture seems off, like she’s broken her back or her neck, her hair long and graying.