The Witch Is Back (9 page)

“In the phone book you’re listed as a psychic,” he answered
in a matter-of-fact sort of way. “Psychics can do more than read cards.”

I gulped. Okay, he had a good point. But that didn’t keep me from feeling freaked out and unable to relax. “I can try to read you without the cards, but my visions aren’t very reliable,” I said in a small voice.

“I have faith in you,” he answered, smiling, but I was past smiles. At this point, I just wanted to get through our appointment so he could go on his merry way. I motioned for his hands, and when he placed them on the table, I clasped them in mine. Then I closed my eyes.

And nothing happened, which was normal. Being psychic wasn’t something that came easily—visions usually appeared to me when I least expected them. When I actually tried to drum them up deliberately, they were as recalcitrant as stubborn goats.

I opened my eyes and found him staring at me. I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable again—like this man had an agenda and he wasn’t about to divulge it anytime soon. “I’m not getting anything,” I started. “Maybe we should reschedule for another day.”

“Do you mind trying again?”

I sighed. “It’s probably useless. My visions come and go as they please.” Neither of us said anything for a few seconds. “Are you sure you don’t want a card reading instead?”

But before he could respond, I was suddenly struck by a series of images that unfurled behind my eyes. It was as if someone had unlocked a drawer full of angry wasps. Pictures circled through my head like a twister. I clenched my eyes tightly shut and felt my hands tighten over his. Channeling psychic information was never easy, and it usually took an emotional toll on me. And given the fact that so much information was spiraling through my brain at the moment, I had a feeling I’d need a long nap after this meeting.

“What’s happening?” he asked in a concerned voice.

“I see something,” I whispered. The sensation of pure energy seemed to vibrate through my entire being. He might not have been a vampire but he was definitely something otherworldly. If his crazy electric blue aura hadn’t convinced me before, I was convinced now.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus, to absorb the darkness behind my eyes—to allow it to take me where I needed to go. I felt the visions begin to slow down and I reached out for one, plucking it with my mind’s eye. What I saw surprised me, and the surprise slowly gave way to fear.

“What do you see?” he asked, a note of hope in his voice.

But I couldn’t respond. I was too busy choking on the fact that what I was seeing defied everything I knew.

“I don’t understand,” I finally said, shaking my head. I’d automatically pulled my hands free of Rand’s as soon as the first confusing images had reached my delirious mind. I just didn’t want to see any more.

“Don’t understand what?” he asked, leaning forward as he offered me a sweet smile that was probably meant to be encouraging. But I couldn’t take encouragement from anyone or anything at the moment—the visions I’d seen had completely blindsided and dumbfounded me.

I stood up abruptly. Rand stood too, but he didn’t move. Instead he stared into my eyes, his gaze intense and piercing. “What did you see?”

I knew I couldn’t tell him—I mean, he’d be as shocked as I was. Somehow I’d managed to drum up a bunch of ridiculous fluff in my brain—what I’d seen could hardly even be considered a vision. It was more like the wiring in my mind had short-circuited and cooked up a ridiculous concoction of absurd images. Why? Because my brain was on overdrive lately, trying to deal with the disturbing realization that things like vampires actually exist. So really, there was no point in sharing any of it.

“I didn’t see anything that would interest you.” I took a deep breath, my hands shaking as I sidestepped my chair and started for the door. He made no attempt to leave so I figured he just wasn’t getting it. I looked up at
him again, offering an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry but sometimes my visions don’t make any sense.”

“I understand, but perhaps they might make sense to me.”

I swallowed hard; he was bold. But he was also mistaken. “I … I didn’t see anything of a psychic nature,” I managed and rubbed my forehead, trying to dispel the remnants of the wayward “vision.” All the while, I found myself wondering what the hell was wrong with me, and whether I was slowly but surely losing my mind.

“Jolie …”

It struck me again, the way he said my name—like we’d been friends for twenty years. But I’d only known him for fifteen minutes, give or take. And now I’d had enough.

I started forward again, but he reached out and touched my upper arm, stopping me.

“Please,” he said, and there was something in his eyes that pulled at me, something that made my stomach do a funny little flip because I suddenly felt it too … the sense that I knew this man, that I’d known him for a long time.

This is completely implausible
, I told myself. I clenched my eyes shut tightly against the headache that had just started pounding behind them.
I’ve never seen this guy before in my life. This must just be déjà vu—it’s the only thing that makes sense because there’s no way I know him and no way he knows me
.

“I don’t know what I saw,” I snapped dismissively, and pulled away from him, hell-bent for the door. “I … I need to get going.”

He caught up with me easily, and before I could comprehend what was happening, he’d pushed me up against the wall by my shoulders, not in a rough sort of way but passionately … I felt the air catch in my throat as he stared down at me, both of us breathless. Even
though I knew I should be afraid, I wasn’t. Instead, I was wholly transfixed by the beauty of his eyes. They seemed to be a darker brown now, as if their ordinarily rich color had been dipped in dark chocolate.

“Jolie,” he said again and his tone of voice and his expression promised me I wasn’t in any sort of danger, that I could trust him. Something in me responded, quelling the fear that I should have been feeling.

This makes no sense!
I berated myself.
What is wrong with me? Why aren’t I resisting him? Why am I acting like this?

And all of a sudden I was suffused with the absolutely insane need to kiss him. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his sumptuous lips, though I didn’t understand why I wanted, no needed, to feel his lips on mine.

This just isn’t who I am! I am not a sexual person—I don’t think of strangers like this!

Something was most definitely wrong with me …

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” I started, my voice wavering, fear now taking charge. And it was about time.

He shook his head, and I could feel the frustration seeping off him in rivulets of electric charge. He was holding back—it was obvious by the tightness of his shoulders, the way he dropped his gaze to the floor and shook his head. There was something he knew, something he wanted to tell me. He returned his attention to me, staring at me as if he was waiting for me to reach some sort of epiphany, for me to do or say … something.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he started. I wanted to insist that he wasn’t frightening me but I wasn’t exactly a good liar.

“Please tell me what you saw,” he insisted, his gaze searching. Before I could even think, he brought his face closer to mine until maybe an inch separated us. That
burning need to taste him suddenly overwhelmed me. I felt my eyes begin to drift closed and forced them open again.

“I … I …” I couldn’t even finish the thought. Instead, I stared at him, dumbfounded. I could swear he was about to kiss me!

“Please tell me, Jolie,” he whispered and his breath was warm as it fanned across my neck. I could feel my heartbeat thundering through my ears. He was going to kiss me. I could see it in his eyes, which were fixed on mine. They were burning a hole through me, as if he could see down to my very soul.

“Let go of me.” I was surprised to hear the words come from my mouth because my body was singing another tune.

“Jolie …”

“Take your hands off me right now,” I said again when he made no attempt to release me. But there was a force within me that was rallying. It was something strong and something angry.

He took a deep breath and stepped away from me, as if he was suddenly realizing that he’d just accosted a relative stranger in a dark room. He dropped his attention to the floor before returning it to me. “I apologize.”

“I have to go,” I said, starting for the door again, this time anxious to get away from him.

But maybe there’s something he needs to tell you
, that insane voice inside of me piped up.
Maybe there’s more to this than you think. Maybe he could make sense of the vision you had?

I swallowed hard.
It wasn’t a vision. My brain was just tripping over itself because I can’t deal with everything that’s been going on lately
.

“Jolie, please tell me what you saw,” Rand said, his voice husky. I didn’t know why, but I stopped walking—it was almost as if my feet were sunk in cement. I didn’t
turn to face him. I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t already run out to the front room and grabbed the phone to call the police. But that strange voice inside me told me not to—it told me I could trust this man, that I was safe.

It was absurd.

“Please leave,” I said, shaking my head as tears of confusion began to well inside my eyes. Something was very wrong with me, but what that might be was anyone’s guess. I felt as if I’d just boarded a runaway train and had no control over any part of me anymore, certainly not my thoughts and emotions.

“Not until you tell me what you saw.”

I frowned and felt my lower lip quivering. “I didn’t see anything,” I said, turning to face him.

His lips were tight and his eyes narrowed as he approached me again, this time without touching me. His body was a mere gasp away from mine, so close that I could smell him. And he smelled incredible—a clean, spicy scent that was purely masculine. As preposterous as it was, I felt as if I’d be able to recognize that smell anywhere—like it had taken up permanent residence in my mind.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said with a frown.

“I don’t care what you believe,” I said as I looked up at him, feeling fury radiating from my eyes. And that was when he did it. He leaned down and grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me into him. Suddenly his mouth was on mine. His kiss wasn’t soft. It was hard and demanding, zealous, as if he couldn’t control himself, as if he’d been resisting the urge to kiss me ever since he walked through my door.

And what was even stranger was the fact that I didn’t fight him. Instead, my body went into autopilot and I felt myself looping my arms around his neck. I leaned
into him and moaned when I felt his tongue enter my mouth.

What about Sinjin?
a tiny voice welled up from within me, but it was suddenly overpowered by a chorus that sang:
This feels right! This just feels so right!

Jolie Wilkins, what the freaking fuck is wrong with you?
my inner voice thundered through me. I forced myself to pull away from Rand, if only to stop this idiocy.

I wiped my arm across my face as if I could erase the memory of his sweet lips just as easily. “If you don’t leave now, I’m going to call the police.”

But he refused to back down; he reached out, lifting my chin up. “Jolie, don’t be afraid.” His voice acted like a command, because any fear I was feeling suddenly vanished. He continued to stare down at me and his lips began moving in time with his thoughts. It almost looked like he was chanting something in his head. His electric blue aura vacillated this way and that, erupting in spires of royal purple …

“Let go of me,” I said, my voice rough.

He dropped his hand from my face; he seemed surprised, like he hadn’t expected such resistance from me, especially after we’d shared such a heated embrace. But his expression also revealed disappointment. Whatever he’d just been doing had not had the desired outcome.

“Jolie …”

It was pretty obvious he wasn’t going to go away if I didn’t tell him what the hell I’d seen. Well, fine, let
him
make sense of it.

“I saw what looked like a battlefield and it was dark out, nighttime I guess. People were fighting and I could feel death all around.” I took a deep breath; this next part caused a lump to form in my throat. “But the part that doesn’t make sense to me is that you and I were both there.” I glanced away, feeling like an idiot for disclosing
such outrageousness. But when I focused on his eyes again, they looked victorious, smoldering.

“Go on,” he said softly.

I couldn’t look at him. “I could feel pain burning my insides and when I looked down at myself, I realized I’d been stabbed.”

He nodded and sighed sadly, as if he was reliving this story as I was telling it—as if he’d been there. “Was there any more?” he asked.

I couldn’t help it, so I looked up at him again. He was still wearing a small, triumphant smile. It made no sense. Why wasn’t he insisting I was a charlatan, that I was full of it? “You were crying,” I finished in a small voice, crossing my arms over my chest. “You were holding me and crying.” I shook my head, suddenly exhausted. “It makes no sense to me and you shouldn’t even consider it a vision. It’s just a bunch of mumbo jumbo.” I brought my gaze back to his and sighed. “Are you satisfied now?”