Watcher
Written by
Ana Knox
©Copyright 2017 – Ana Knox
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, brands, names, and events portrayed, referenced, or mentioned here are products of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously.
1
Mara Berman woke with a gasp. Her bed sheets, moist with sweat and coiled around her like a snake, felt threatening. Nothing made the air thicken faster than the sinking feeling of being unable to escape. She thrashed atop the bed, kicking and rolling before finally freeing herself from the tangled mess of sheets and landing herself on the floor with a thud. She didn’t get up or even try to move. Instead, she rolled onto her stomach and pressed her cheek to the floor. Her skin felt hot, too hot, as if she was coming down with a fever. The cool surface of the hardwood soothed her, the cold making its way down from her cheek to her neck and further still until the tension began to ease from her body.
After what felt like an hour, Mara tilted her head back and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It took a few seconds to decipher the red, upside-down numbers flashing from above before she determined that it was 1:23 AM. “Seriously,” she moaned to the empty room.
She didn’t want to leave the cool relief of the floor, so she stretched an arm up as far as she could reach and felt around for her cell phone. She pushed the clock aside, almost knocking it from the table, and brushed over the familiar rubbery outline of her phone case. The screen’s bright light assaulted her eyes. She jabbed at it once, cleared her throat, and said, “Call Axl.”
The monotonous ringing in Mara’s ear nearly lulled her back to sleep when finally, on the fourth ring, Axl’s voice came through. “This had better be good.”
“I had a bad dream.”
“Go find a stuffed animal to hug. I’m going back to sleep.”
“Axl, please?”
“No.”
“Please, Ax? Come on.” She put on a softer voice, as if she were speaking to a child. “Come on, Ax. Come on.”
“I don’t appreciate being coaxed like a dog,” Axl grumbled into the phone. “But fine.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, you owe me, you big baby.” A click, and the line went dead.
A wave of dizziness rolled through her as Mara pushed herself off the floor. She braced herself on the wall, still feeling flushed, and breathed through it. When it passed, she headed into the bathroom.
Her cheeks were rosy in her reflection, a deep pink that crept down and coated the skin of her throat and upper chest. She frowned as she stared into the mirror, hoping the feeling and flush would soon fade. She wasn’t sure if she was coming down with something or still reeling from the dream pricking at the edge of her subconscious.
She studied the lines and angles of her face. Deep shadows haunted the spaces beneath her hickory-colored eyes, making her lack of sleep obvious. Five nights in a row now. Her raven hair hung loose and lifeless over her shoulders, lusterless and weak. She looked the way she felt. Drained. Briefly, she considered applying some foundation before Axl arrived, if nothing more than to keep her best friend from worrying about her. Instead, she washed her face and decided she may as well be honest about her week’s worth of restlessness. She slipped out of the bathroom and grabbed a white tank top from the dresser, sliding it over her head as she made her way through her studio apartment.
Though it wasn’t even two in the morning, Mara started a pot of coffee and clicked on her small flat-screen television. She stopped her vigorous clicking of the channel button when she skimmed across a late-night marathon of The Nanny . Good enough.
Fran Fine’s mother had just served up boiled tongue to the Sheffield family when the buzzer sounded from Mara’s entryway. She half-walked, half-ran to the door and pressed the buzzer. “Axl?”
“No, it’s the landlord. Just thought I’d drop by at four in the morning to make sure everything was in working order.”
Mara rolled her eyes and tapped the buzzer twice to unlock the downstairs door. She then dropped a few spoonfuls of sugar into her freshly brewed coffee and crawled back into bed. Only a few minutes passed before Axl made it to the fourth floor and walked through Mara’s apartment door, shutting and locking it behind her. She wore a tank top and sweats, and her short brown hair was sleep-mussed and sticking up in places. The sweatpants hanging off her looked like something dug up from the men’s bin at Goodwill, worn-out elastic and resting so low on her hips that they barely covered anything at all.
“Hey,” she said, shuffling over to the galley kitchen with a four-pack of silver and blue cans dangling from one hand. “I brought Red Bull.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little early for energy drinks?”
“You’re drinking coffee.” Axl slid three cans into the fridge and cracked open the fourth. “Besides, if you want me to actually stay awake long enough to listen to your nightmare and sing you back to sleep or whatever, I’m definitely going to need these.” She set the Red Bull down on the bedside table, kicked off her shoes, and slid into bed.
“I’ve heard you sing,” Mara said. “I think it would only induce more nightmares.”
“Excuse you.” Axl shoved Mara’s shoulder. “I was named after a rock legend , thank you very much.”
“Whose name obviously failed to bless you with any vocal talent,” Mara said, and Axl gasped.
“Hey, I was not conceived in a Porta Potty at one of the greatest Guns N’ Roses concerts of all time to be mocked this way.” Axl pulled the covers over her head.
“Seems like a perfect reason to mock someone, if you ask me.”
Axl poked her side under the covers.
“All right,” Mara said, pushing Axl’s jabbing finger away. “I’m sorry. Your singing is, um, unique.”
“Damn right,” Axl said, popping out from under the covers again. She rolled onto her side to face Mara, blankets pulled up to her chin. She looked much younger this way, wrapped up like a child waiting for a bedtime story. It had been so many years since Mara felt like a kid, playing with dolls and having mock tea parties with Axl. The memories made her chest tighten. Don’t think about it, Mara. Leave the past in the past.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Axl’s voice snapped Mara back to reality, and she realized she didn’t want to talk about the dream anymore. She didn’t want to recall the images in the back of her mind, stirring them into an almost-reality. Then again, Axl did crawl out of bed for her in the middle of the night. It seemed only fair to spill.
“It’s hard to explain,” Mara said, trying not to look Axl in the eyes, though she could feel her steady gaze. “It’s all in flashes, but this is the fifth time I’ve had it.”
“You’ve had the same dream five nights in a row?”
“Yes.”
“The exact same dream?”
“Yes.”
“That’s freaky.”
Mara nodded. “I wasn’t too worried about it. I’ve had recurring dreams before. But tonight…I don’t know. It just felt too real, and then I was all tangled in the sheets and couldn’t get out. You know how much I hate that.”
“Yeah.”
“I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” Mara drew in a slow breath and released it again on a sigh. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”
She finished with a quick glance over, hoping not to see the look in Axl’s eyes that she feared would be there. Pity. Mara hated that look, the one that made her feel like a child, like something weak and vulnerable. It made her feel like an alien, something to be gawked at. Something other . Axl never intentionally looked at Mara that way. She knew how much Mara hated it, and she was normally quite good about keeping her facial expressions passive whenever glimmers of the past found their way into a conversation. But on nights like this one, when they were both exhausted, Axl was entitled to a little slip-up. It only lasted a few seconds and vanished.
Mara felt the warmth of Axl’s petite body as she curled up closer to her. She smelled like Old Spice and honeysuckle. It was familiar, comforting. Axl had always had a way of making every moment, even the hardest moments imaginable, somehow better. She made it easier for Mara to breathe, gave her the feeling that she would never have to be alone. They would always have each other, no matter what, just as they’d promised when they were kids.
“So, what happened?”
Mara grabbed the remote and clicked the TV off, plunging the room into dark silence. She squeezed Axl’s hand under the sheet, as if trying to wake herself from the echoes of a dream still prickling along her skin. “It’s always the same man in the dream,” she whispered, not wanting to talk too loudly, as if doing so would somehow make him materialize out of thin air. “He’s tall. Jet black hair. Thick beard. But it’s his eyes that stand out the most. They’re dark, Ax. Really dark. Like tar. And watching me.”
“Watching you how?”
“I don’t know,” Mara said. “Like he’s seeing through me somehow.” She paused for a long time, lingering on the image. The hairs along the back of her neck stiffened, making her itch. “ Inside me.” Mara shuddered. The man’s obsidian eyes haunted her. They were something indescribable, something otherworldly. “Right down into my soul.”
“So, he just stares at you? That’s it?”
“He touches me,” Mara said, glancing away. Another chill ran through her.
Axl’s hand tightened around hers. “Against your will?”
“No.” Mara hesitated. “We touch each other. But it’s—”
“Hold up,” Axl said, releasing Mara’s hand. “Are you telling me you called me over here at the ass-crack of dawn to whine about having a sex dream?”
“No!” Mara punched Axl’s shoulder, thankful for the laugh. “It’s not like that.”
“Mhm.” Axl reached for her Red Bull and took a big gulp. “‘We touch each other’ sounds like a sex dream to me. More like a 15-year-old girl’s sex dream than a 28-year-old woman’s, but hey.”
Mara smacked her again. “Shut up.”
“Seriously,” Axl said, “if you just called me over here to brag about having steamy consensual dream sex with some mysterious hot guy, then you can kiss my ass.”
“Oh, please.” Mara sipped her coffee. “Like you’d ever be jealous of dream sex with any guy , hot and steamy or not.”
“True, but considering I’m not having dream sex—” She cupped her hand over her mouth and lowered her voice. “—or real sex, with anyone right now, I have a right to be jealous.”
“Fair enough.”
Mara slid down from the headboard so that her face was even with Axl’s, and as their laughter dwindled, a calm fell over her. For a while, they simply stared at one another, holding hands beneath the covers like the two little girls they used to be, and Mara felt normal again, relaxed.
“You okay?” Axl asked as the first strips of sunlight peeked in through the window.
Mara nodded at first, but then her stomach stirred with unease. She shook her head. “Something about him scares me. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Axl said. “Just tell me what you need.”
“Do you think you could stay here for a few days? Just until the dreams stop?” Mara felt childish for asking, but she didn’t care. She needed to sleep, really sleep without waking up shaking and sweating, and maybe having someone close would help.
“Sure.”
They listened to each other’s breathing for a long time, and Mara tried not to think about the man in her dream, the way he looked at her, the way he touched her. As if there was darkness on his fingertips and she could feel it spreading along her skin, sapping away her light even as she reached for more. Eagerly. Eagerly, she reached for more, as if she needed that darkness to thrive. She closed her eyes and forced in a breath, hoped sleep would come easy with Axl’s fingers laced through hers. Hoped sleep would come at all.
2
Moonlight beamed through parted curtains as Mara stirred again from sleep. She could feel heat against her back and rolled just enough to see Axl curled on her side and sound asleep behind her. Quietly, Mara slipped out from under the covers and stood. The cold concrete floor stung the bottoms of her bare feet as she walked toward the window, drawn by the silvery white light spilling across her window sill. She leaned against the frame, tired, and stared out into the night. A few cars passed along the city street below. A lone man staggered along the sidewalk, paper bag clutched between his fingers. Brighton City was quiet, only a gentle stir of activity. It slept more soundly than Mara had in days.
A flicker of blue caught her eye. Her breath caught in her throat. There, at the edge of the sidewalk, lingering in the mouth of an alley across the street and just under the glow of the streetlight, stood the man from Mara’s dreams. She would recognize him anywhere. Black hair. Thick beard. And those eyes. So dark. They were open galaxies black holes drawing her into a void. They couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be real. A trick of the light, or of the night; her tired mind playing tricks on her eyes. It had to be.
Still, a spark of panic ignited within, tempered only by the thrill that flamed to life against her will and licked along her flesh. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. As expected, the man was gone. The sidewalk was empty but for the poor drunk still staggering along. Mara breathed in relief, shoulders sagging, and lay a hand over her heart. It beat madly beneath her palm. She turned from the window, and a gasp wrenched free.
Inches from her, standing in the dim light of her otherwise dark room, was the mysterious man. As real as the air in her lungs and the chill in her spine. He was there. Inside her building. Inside her apartment. In her bedroom. In her space. Close. She could feel the heat of his body, rolling off him in thick waves. His eyes were somehow even darker up close, so dark Mara could see her reflection in the inky black, and he seemed almost to be glowing. A blue sort of light enveloped him, like slow-dancing flames licking along the black material of the crisp suit he wore.
“Quiet,” he said, a grin slowly spreading over his lips as he touched his index finger to them. His voice was deeper than Mara imagined, and rough like gravel. In all her dreams of him, he had never spoken, not a word.
Fear spiked, and Mara’s pulse raced harder. She felt her mouth go dry, and her mind began to buzz with all the ways she should try to escape. A part of her, though, the part burning a path through her insides and pooling low in her belly, had no desire to escape at all. “H-how did you get in here?”
The words trembled their way across her lips, a shaky whisper of sound, and the man’s grin widened. “It’s a secret,” he said, taking a small step toward her, so close she could feel his breath on her. “Would you like to know my secrets, Mara?”
Mara shuddered at the sound of her name coated in his deep voice. Her palms began to sweat. “How do you know my name?”
“I know many things.”
“Who are you?”
One dark, thick eyebrow arched high. “Perhaps a better question,” the man said, “would be to ask what I am, rather than who.”
Mara felt her stomach lurch and sink. Her knees begin to shake.
“Oh, I love when you tremble,” he said, and Mara couldn’t help but clench her thighs together.
She nearly jumped away at the first press of his fingers to her naked thigh, bare flesh peeking out from under the long, large t-shirt she wore as a nightgown. But she stopped herself. She stayed, and his touch only made her knees quake harder. His fingers skated up her thigh, teased at the edge of her t-shirt, toying with the material. When he slipped under, Mara’s head spun. She didn’t know why she was letting this happen, why she wasn’t fighting or screaming or calling for Axl, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t. She didn’t want to.
Rough fingertips slid along her upper thigh and back down. Once. Twice. Then he touched her. A graze of gritty flesh over the damp material of her panties, one slow line down her slit.
“This is what you want,” the man whispered, and Mara felt as if she might explode.
“Who are you?” She asked the question again, and then remembered his words. “Wha— What are you?”
The man stepped in close, and Mara couldn’t help herself. She reached for him, one hand wrapping around his upper arm. She could feel the hard bulge of his bicep through his suit, and she anchored herself to it. The same blue flames licking along his suit engulfed her hand, but Mara felt nothing more than a cool breeze whispering over her fingers. She held on as his middle finger inched toward the edge of her panties and slipped them to the side. “Something—” He leaned in close, the scruff of his beard scratching along Mara’s cheek. “— other .”
When his tongue slithered up the length of her neck and around the shell of her ear, Mara bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood. He laughed, low and gruff, against her overheated flesh and whispered, “Just like you.”
Mara woke suddenly, heart pounding. She blinked in the dark, hand shooting up to her neck, to her ear. Slinking down to touch between her legs where she had only just felt probing fingers. He was gone. The mysterious man was gone, and Mara was still in her bed, untouched.
She sank back into her pillow and clutched her chest. It was only a dream. She felt both relieved and, admittedly, disappointed. Mara couldn’t deny that part of her was attracted to the man, drawn to him. Part of her wanted him watching her, touching her, devouring her. Another part, the more rational part, knew these dreams were nothing but fantasy. Nothing but trouble. Trouble that needed to stop.
Mara could feel Axl in the bed behind her, curled up against her back. Her deep, easy breaths indicated that she was still asleep, and Mara was glad she hadn’t woken her. She scooted backward, closer, and tried to let that closeness calm and comfort her. But then Axl shifted, as if prompted by Mara’s own movement, and wrapped an arm around Mara’s waist. Her hot breath skirted over Mara’s cheek and ear and sent an unexpected tingle ripping down Mara’s spine. Heat flooded in her abdomen, and Mara quickly clamped her eyes closed. What the hell is happening to me?
It had to be the dream, lingering echoes of sensations she hadn’t yet been able to shake. It had to be. But then, the man’s image was gone from her mind, and in its place, Mara found only the woman next to her. She found herself wondering what would happen if she rolled over and leaned in. What would happen if she claimed Axl’s lips as if she owned them? What would it be like to kiss her best friend? Touch her? Possess her entirely?
Mara drew in a breath, alarmed. She felt flushed again, overwhelmed, burning up from the inside. She shot up and bolted from the bed, into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. Back pressed to the door, she stood with her hand over her racing heart and her breath quick in her lungs. A tense ball of pressure throbbed at the base of her spine. Her thighs wouldn’t stop trembling. She was so hot, she felt nauseated.
Stumbling to the sink, Mara turned on the faucet, ran cold water over her hands, then gathered enough to splash her face. The contrast was shocking. It dizzied her. Panic sparked in Mara’s chest, and she began to worry that she was coming down with something. She was feverish and hallucinating. She was losing her fucking mind.
She splashed her face again, then looked into the mirror. A shout jumped free, Mara unable to restrain it, when she saw her skin coated in a light blue flame. It licked up her bare arms to the base of her neck, shockingly bright in the dark room.
A knock startled her, and Mara turned toward the locked door.
“Mara?” She’d woken Axl. “You okay? I heard you shout.”
Mara turned back to the mirror, surprised to find she was normal again. The flames were gone, and the heat on her flesh began to dwindle. Still, she splashed her face with water again and took relaxing breaths. God, I’m losing it , she thought, convinced her lack of sleep was beginning to mess with her head. She ignored the twinging little part of her that warned it was something more, something deeper.
“I—I’m fine,” she called through the door. “Um, it was just a spider.”
She didn’t want to admit to Axl that she was seeing things, that she was feeling things.
“Oh.”
Mara closed her eyes and dropped slowly down to her knees. She rested her face against the edge of the sink, the cold porcelain a relief to her still-hot flesh.
“Well, next time just stomp the thing instead of waking up the whole building,” Axl teased, and Mara tried to summon a laugh. She tried to respond at all, but nothing would come. Instead, she leaned against the sink and hoped this feeling of uncertainty, of fear, would soon pass.
3
“Golden Acres Retirement Center, Mara speaking. How may I help you?”
Mara’s voice was scratchy. Axl had been with her four nights, and Mara was getting even less sleep than before. They always ended up talking until the sun came up. Still, neither the dreams, nor the feelings, had come once since Axl’s first night, so Mara had little want to complain. That was, until she remembered she had agreed to take over a mid-day shift for a co-worker. Ten in the morning to ten at night. So, she was feeling a bit more on the complaining side than usual. Thankfully, they were short a receptionist with a surplus of nurses on staff for the day, so she got to sit on her ass rather than bustle the halls, wheeling wandering elderly folks back to their rooms.
“Yes, Mr. Richards, your Great Aunt Opal is still alive.” Mara shook her head as the man ended the call. As horrible as it was, Mr. Richards wasn’t the only person waiting for someone in Golden Acres to kick the bucket so they could claim their inheritance. She got that call more often that anyone would care to guess.
She’d seriously considered calling in sick. Her bed had been so warm, especially with Axl’s added body heat, but she couldn’t afford to skip out on the pay. Living in the city, even more on the outskirts than in, was expensive. The idea of money struggles made Mara laugh, because she knew she could easily be drowning in money if she wanted, but that ship had sailed a long time ago, and there was no going back. It was better to remain in the present, even if the present was riddled with debt. Escaping the past and all your fears was easy, just as long as you never stopped running.
She leaned back in her office chair, letting it rock back and forth beneath her. No one she really liked was on duty, so she spent the last eight hours staring at the ceiling, playing spider solitaire on the computer, and trying not to fall asleep. Only four more hours to go.
Time was dragging, but the thought of leaving helped wake Mara up a bit. She was considering running to the cafeteria to grab a cup of coffee when the front door opened and in walked Wheezing Warren’s grandson. Mara sat up a bit straighter at the sight of him. William Warren, who had emphysema and a terrible wheeze, had lived in the home for just over two years, and his grandson, Jake Warren, visited him every week without fail. He was a charming guy, Jake. He was also sex on a stick, or on two legs, or whatever the saying was. Mara didn’t know and didn’t care. All she could do at the moment was watch the man walk.
Usually, she was just starting her shift when he showed up for visitation. They would pass each other in the hallway and exchange a few words. She’d always had a good relationship with his grandfather. Now, though, she was slouched in a chair with a face that made it clear she hadn’t slept in weeks, and Mara was torn between wanting to continue watching the man and wanting to sink into the floor.
“Mara,” Jake said when he reached the reception desk. His short blonde hair was tousled on top, and he wore a grin that made his green eyes crinkle. “You playing receptionist tonight?”
Mara felt an uncomfortable wave of heat roll through her chest and creep up her neck. She blew a gust of cold air up toward her cheeks and summoned a laugh. Her voice croaked around the sound. “Yeah,” she said. “Surplus of nurses and no one on phones, so I volunteered. How are you?”
“Can’t complain,” Jake said. “Just stopped by to see Pop.”
“Well, he’s probably still in the dining hall. You know he likes to go around asking everyone for their dessert.”
Jake laughed. “He does.” He tapped the desk. “All right,” he said. “Well, I’ll head over there then. Have a good night, Mara.”
“You too,” Mara said, and watched as the man turned toward C Hall and headed for the dining room. Mara’s brow ticked as she looked after him. Watching him walk away was just as entertaining. She could see the muscles in his back through his gray t-shirt, rippling with every step. Another wave of heat rolled through her, and Mara suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Her chest flushed. Her head swam. Dizziness washed over her like water, flooding every inch, until she had to grip the desk to hold herself up. She glanced down and nearly cried out at the sight of the flames, blue and bright, licking up her skin again.
“No,” she said, breathless. “No, no.” She jumped from her chair. The room spun, and she had to grab the chair to keep from falling. With a deep breath, her head cleared the slightest bit, and she was able to stumble her way to the nearest bathroom.
Inside, she dropped to her knees then lay down on the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and squeezed her thighs together. Heat pulsed between her legs, hard and violent.
“Oh God,” she muttered under her breath. “What the hell is happening to me?”
It wouldn’t stop. Mara rocked back and forth, writhing in pain, but not even the cold floor helped. Desperate for the heat and throbbing to subside, she did the only thing she could think of. With one shaky hand, she untied her scrub pants and slid a hand down into her panties. Her skin was feverish to the touch, and the first press of her fingers to her throbbing clit made her eyes water.
Pain and relief melded together as she pressed and rubbed and pressed harder until she was able to spark up a working rhythm. Her thighs suffocated her hand, clenching so tight that her fingers began to ache as she rocked against her palm. It took only a few thrusts to rocket her over the edge, and Mara came so hard she had to bite her lip to the point of drawing blood in order to keep quiet.
The pain subsided, slowly dissipating. The heat ebbed away. She felt like herself again. Slowly, she rose to her feet, washed her hands, splashed water on her face, and tried not to think about the fact that she had just masturbated on the bathroom floor at her place of work. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. Some freak sort of medical condition? She’d read about women who had spontaneous orgasms, but this was something entirely different. This heat, these fevers, it was as if she was boiling from the inside. It terrified her.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. God, she was wasting away. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Her hair hung loosely and lacked its usual shine. She looked like she had been hanging out on death’s door and just hadn’t decided if she wanted to go through yet or not. Had she caught some kind of bug? It wasn’t flu season but that didn’t rule it out.
Mara pulled her phone from her pocket as she exited the bathroom. She tapped out a note to call her doctor and stuffed the device back in her pocket. Her knees trembled with every step back to her desk, and every person who looked at her seemed to be looking through her. Her mind raced. Did they know? Could they tell? She looked down at her arms, sure she would find them consumed with blue fire, but they appeared normal. No flames. Just smooth skin. She breathed a sigh of relief and settled into her chair.
When ten o’clock rolled around, she bolted to the time clock just as Barb, the night-shift receptionist, was punching in. They exchanged a quick hello and Mara was on her way, only stopping shortly to check in on her grandmother. Ava Berman had moved into Golden Acres the year before, and Mara had transferred there to be closer to her. She was her only living relative and had raised Mara since she was seven years old. Sadly, she hardly recognized Mara at all anymore. Alzheimer’s.
It had been terrible, watching her grandmother slip away, though shamefully, at times, Mara envied her. She envied her ability to forget. She knew the darker memories were buried somewhere inside her grandmother’s mind, but most days, they stayed that way. Buried. Most days, Mara was the only one to carry them at all.
Ava was snoring when Mara popped in. Good. Still alive. She ran a hand over her wispy gray hair and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. “Love you,” she whispered, breathing in the familiar smell of her lilac perfume. Ava kept it nearby no matter the day, one of the few things she never forgot. It was comforting.
Mara walked home like always. Her apartment was only a few blocks from the nursing home, and she felt safer walking than riding the bus at night, though only just. She was still a bit shaken by the day’s events, so she was thankful for the fresh, open air. It was warm and calming. She could almost convince herself nothing out of the ordinary had happened. A freak bout of fever, that’s all. That is, until she turned the corner.
The figure poised under the streetlight startled her. She froze. Dark eyes flashed like those of an animal. The man from her dreams.
“Mara.” His mouth pulled at one end, a dangerous smile.
Instantly, the heat returned, igniting low in Mara’s stomach as if someone had struck a match inside her. She felt as if she could burn forever. Her mouth went dry. “It’s you.” You’re real.
“It’s me,” he said, voice like a serpent. It slithered up the length of her, slithered in. It coiled around her insides until she felt squeezed and breathless.
“Who are you?”
His smile grew. A flash of white teeth. “They call me the Watcher.”
“You’ve been watching me ,” Mara said, and the Watcher nodded.
“Indeed.”
His eyes bored into her, and her heart started to race. The heat intensified, licking along her insides and growing. It scattered along her limbs, made her palms sweat. Her fingertips felt sticky as she knotted her hands into fists and tried to keep her knees from shaking.
“Why?” she asked. “What do you want from me?”
“It’s nearly time,” he said, and a fresh wave of heat curled through her.
His smile was like a palm being pressed to her sex. The wider it grew, the more she throbbed. He said nothing more, only stared at her, and then, the impossible happened. His body shimmered, translucent blue flames licking up the length of him, and in a blink, he was gone.
Mara shook her head, bewildered. She glanced around, spinning on her heels to check the space behind her, but he was gone. A woman passed by her, brow furrowing as she glanced Mara’s way, and Mara imagined she must look as rattled as felt. She felt frantic, desperate for answers, for relief, for confirmation. Had she imagined him? Could any of this be real at all? The question haunted her, fear spiking with each heavy breath, each terrifying thought.
Am I going insane?
4
When the heat subsided, it was like an adrenaline crash. Mara felt as if she had just run a marathon. The two blocks she walked to her apartment felt like miles with her mind racing all the while. By the time she made it home, she had convinced herself all she needed was a few good hours of sleep, real , deep sleep. She wasn’t losing her mind. She was just tired. Insomnia had been known to cause hallucinations. That’s all it was. There was no need to see a doctor. She wouldn’t even bother telling Axl about what she’d been experiencing. What was the point in worrying her? The remedy to her problem was a sleeping pill. Easy as pie.
Mara dragged herself through her apartment door, ready to slam back enough Benadryl to knock out a horse and burrow in her bed for the next sixteen hours. The smell of mushrooms and garlic, however, woke her. Her stomach growled and ached. Pizza, still hot. She shuffled to the open box on the kitchen counter and pulled out a slice.
“Hey,” she called, mouth full.
“Hey!”
Mara followed Axl’s voice to the bathroom. She took one look at the ungodly amount of eyeliner Axl was applying and nearly chucked her pizza at her. “Damn it!” she whined. “I should have known this pizza was a bribe.” She dropped to the floor, leaned her head against the wall, and shoved another bite into her mouth.
“Oh, come on,” Axl said. She wetted her fingers and rubbed her hair around every which way. The messy look. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror, then turned to Mara. “You seriously need a night out.”
“I’m tired,” Mara said around a mouthful of crust. “In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t slept in, like, two weeks, and I just worked a twelve-hour shift.”
“Hey, I worked today, too, and you don’t see me complaining.”
Mara rolled her eyes. “You’re a freelance web designer,” she said. “You set your own hours.”
“Yeah, and I give myself grueling, grueling four-hour shifts,” Axl said. “Do you know how crappy it is to sit and stare at a computer screen for hours on end? I’ve got astigmatism and bad posture.”
Mara couldn’t help the laugh that shook free. “Poor you.”
“I know, right?” Axl held out a hand. “Come on. You can handle it.”
“I seriously can’t.”
“Please?” Axl pleaded. She stuck out her bottom lip and whimpered like a puppy. “For me?”
“The fact that I’m even considering it proves insomnia is making me crazy,” Mara said, and Axl smiled.
“Drinks on me, promise.”
God, am I really going to do this?
“Fine,” Mara said, curling into a ball on the floor and rubbing her tired eyes. “But I’m wearing scrubs.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes.”
“Nope.” Axl bent and smacked Mara on the ass. “Get up. I’ll pick something out for you.”
Mara groaned. “I’m regretting so many choices right now,” she said. “Number one being you. Here. In my apartment.”
“If I recall, and I do , I’m here as a favor to you,” Axl said. “So, stop complaining and hop to it. We’ve got places to go. Girls to make out with.”
“Oh god, when are you going to grow up?”
“Likely never,” Axl said as she disappeared into Mara’s small, walk-in closet.
***
Grind had only been open about two months, the latest addition to the growing number of lesbian bars. It boasted one of Brighton City’s hottest Deejays and a late happy hour every night of the week. The crowd was just beginning to pour in when Mara and Axl arrived. The music pumped so hard the floor vibrated beneath their feet, and they barely made it through the door before Axl started rocking her hips in time. Mara was more reserved. She’d never been one for clubbing, but Grind was a little different. It was darker, more relaxed than those hyped techno raves with their blinding strobe lights and fog machines. It was all deep reds and blacks with plush couches, a well-stocked bar, and an intimate dance floor. The atmosphere was sexy—deep bass, bump-and-grind music, people sliding up and down one another. You couldn’t help but get at least a little turned on watching those on the dance floor, their energy nearly tangible in the air.
They headed to the bar and Mara took a seat. She was already hovering at the edge of uncomfortable in the skin-tight, shredded jeans, sheer top, and too-high heels Axl had picked out for her. Part of her was desperate for her first drink. The other part knew she’d be better off not drinking at all. She didn’t have much of a say in the matter, though, as Axl tapped the bar and ordered four shots of cheap tequila. She could hold her liquor surprisingly well for such a petite woman, but Mara? She’d be on her ass in no time.
“I told you, drinks on me,” Axl said with a mischievous grin. “Bottoms up!” They tapped their glasses once in unison, then downed the first shot. It burned all the way down Mara’s throat and almost back up again. Oh boy, this is going to be bad. After the second shot, Axl planted a kiss on Mara’s cheek and headed to the dance floor to find someone to grind on. She never had to search for long. Girls flocked to her, lightning bugs drawn to the electric hum of her personality, her rhythm, her energy. Axl would dance with them, wind them up, sometimes take them home, then “forget” to call them the next day, and the next and the next. Use and lose. She liked it easy, no strings. She never got too close, never let anyone in. Except Mara.
Axl returned after her second song on the dance floor and ordered four more shots of tequila. Mara’s stomach screamed for her to put the shot glass down, but she didn’t want to look like a wuss. The tequila went down like choked-back vomit, and Mara gagged. She latched onto a lime as if it contained water from the fountain of youth and tried to chase the taste away. She hadn’t drunk like this in a while, typically sticking to no more than a beer or two, if even that much. She hated the sensation of being drunk—as if she was floating around in a void constantly shifting from light to dark. One minute everything was there, and the next, everything was gone. Not to mention the fact that every time she had ever been drunk, she’d made incredibly stupid decisions. It was as if someone slid a pair of rose-colored lenses over her eyes and, suddenly, everything seemed like a wonderful idea—from bedding random strangers to streaking through the park buck naked with Axl cheering her on from the sidelines. Yeah. Getting drunk was a bad idea.
Too late.
Mara leaned against the bar and surveyed the crowd. Glasses clinked together. Fingers swept hair away to expose sweat-slicked necks. Lovers leaned in close, whispering to one another. Girls danced with girls. Guys tried to dance with girls who were only interested in dancing with other girls. Everyone had a vibe, and the longer Mara stared, the more apparent it became until it was as if she could actually see their energy—deep reds and blues hovering over flesh like pulsating auras. They called to her, a sharp pull in her gut, and Mara found herself drinking them all in. Staring as if she couldn’t stop. She suddenly felt more alive and energetic than she had in weeks.
That’s when she saw him. The far corner of the room was encased in shadow between two red velvet VIP booths, but the azure flames licking along his pressed charcoal suit were like flares in the dark. Their eyes met. The Watcher.
Mara’s lips parted around a gasp. Her spine stiffened, her throat turned to dust, and just as before, a spark flickered to life low in her abdomen. The spark turned to flame, heat spreading through her like a brushfire—jumping and winding and out of control. She could hardly hold herself still.
The Watcher’s head dipped in a slow nod as he raised a glass of champagne, a silent toast. To what, Mara didn’t know. He took a sip, then disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the breathless feeling in Mara’s chest.
She let her head drop into her hands and closed her eyes. “No,” she muttered to herself. “Nope. Not happening. You’re just drunk. You’re drunk. Get it together.”
“Hey.”
Mara jerked, nearly toppling off her stool. Warm hands caught and righted her, and Mara looked up to find Axl holding her steady.
“Whoa,” Axl said with a laugh. “Someone’s had a little too much.”
The heat still winding its way through Mara’s insides, spreading like a disease, spiked. Her stomach lurched. She clamped her thighs together as tightly as possible in an effort to relieve the sudden throbbing, but the pressure only made it worse. It only made her need more. And the vibes. The air thrummed with energy, thick and sexual. It vibrated atop Mara’s skin, clenched low in her gut. It was as if she was siphoning every wisp of it from the room’s atmosphere, absorbing it through her pores. Each new wisp drove her higher, hotter, and Mara wasn’t sure anymore if she was drunk on the alcohol or the energy. She held onto Axl’s hands and closed her eyes again. Instantly, an image of her best friend flickered to life, an image of the two of them together—Axl kissing the back of Mara’s neck where she was most sensitive. Mara’s eyes flew open again. She shook her head hard, and the room spun violently.
“Hey,” Axl said, softer. “Hey.” She released one of Mara’s hands to tilt her chin up and look in her eyes. Mara tried to avoid the gaze but couldn’t. “You okay?”
Mara released a slow, shaky breath and nodded.
“You sure?”
“I’m okay,” she said, voice a bit unsteady. “Can we just go home?”
Axl nodded. “Yeah, of course.” She helped Mara off her stool and wrapped an arm around her waist. The heat of her fingertips through the sheer material of Mara’s top was almost too much. “I’m not gonna have to carry you home, am I?”
“Not making any promises,” Mara said. It was impossible to keep her legs clamped together while trying to walk in heels, so she leaned heavily on Axl and tried not to think about every point at which their bodies were touching. Or how she was melting from the inside. “Just call for a cab.”
5
The entire way home Mara was extremely aware of her proximity to Axl, more aware than she could ever remember being. Everything seemed amplified. Colors. Scents. The tingling in the base of her spine. Her entire body felt as if it might literally catch fire at any minute, and there seemed to be some sort of pink haze hovering over Axl’s skin. The same sort of energy she could see in the club. Mara blinked, willing it to disappear, but it didn’t.
Her stomach flipped, unsettled, when the cab pulled to the curb outside her building. Her clit throbbed with every step they took, every stair they climbed. God, she was going to splinter apart if she didn’t get some relief soon. She would have to lock herself in the bathroom again, she knew. The same way she had done at the nursing home. She was mortified.
“You okay?” Axl asked as they made their way into the apartment, close. Her breath skirted over Mara’s neck, and something inside her snapped.
Axl’s shoulders slammed into the wall of the small entry hall, and Mara slinked up the length of her like a cat. An alien sound clawed its way up from within, something dark and possessive. Something other . The Watcher’s words whispered at the back of her mind. Just like you.
“Whoa, hey,” Axl said, trying to put some space between them. “What are you doing?”
Mara felt dizzy with the heat, the throbbing, the wanting . “Touch me.” The words escaped in a whine, and Mara watched as the light pink haze hovering over Axl’s skin deepened to crimson. She didn’t have a clue what it was, but it made her mouth water as if some part of her instinctively knew what it meant. Axl was aroused. “Fuck, Axl, touch me.”
She didn’t wait for Axl’s hands. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her own shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the floor. She had no idea where this was headed or even what to do. She’d never been with another woman before. In fact, she’d only ever been with two men before and both had been serious relationships. But she was confident she could figure it out. It was all about instinct, and Mara’s instincts were currently on fire. She didn’t want this to stop. Not now. Not ever. The heat in her veins urged her on, and the alcohol stripped her of the nerves that normally would have driven her to a bashful withdrawal by now. She didn’t waste any time. Desire burst through her body like a volcanic eruption as she damn-near ripped Axl’s button-up shirt off, needing to feel her, flesh on flesh.
Axl never wore a bra, so she was completely exposed as Mara pulled their bodies together again, but Axl didn’t seem to mind. A low guttural sound escaped her throat as Mara reveled in the feel of her perfectly hardened muscles beneath the smooth, soft skin of her chest and stomach. Breath slammed from her lungs until she felt like she couldn’t get enough air, but she didn’t care.
“God, Mara, what are we doing?” Axl whined, and Mara swallowed the sound with a kiss. Hot and wet. She sucked Axl’s bottom lip between her teeth and released it with a wet pop.
“Everything,” she whispered, rocking up against Axl’s body. She was desperate for even the tiniest bit of friction.
They rolled along the wall further into the apartment, tripping over their own feet. The room rocked and spun around them, and Mara wanted more, needed more. Tingles pricked along her skin and knotted in the base of her spine. She reached down and popped open the button of her jeans, then pulled Axl’s trembling hand to the brim of her pants.
“Touch me,” she said again, pressing the words to Axl’s lips. And God, did she mean it with every fiber of her being.
Axl’s fingers halted at the base of Mara’s stomach. She pushed Mara back from her, holding them apart, and suddenly, it felt like the world was ripping down the center. No, no, no, don’t stop!
“Wait, Mara,” Axl said, breathless. “You’re drunk. I don’t think you realize what you’re doing.” The ache in her words betrayed that she wanted to be anything but the voice of reason at this point, and the energy pulsing around her was as fiery as ever.
Mara shook her head. “Trust me,” she said, panting. “I know exactly what I’m doing, and I swear to God, Axl, if you don’t touch me, I’m going to fucking scream.” She pulled Axl’s hand from her shoulder and slid it back down to the waistband of her jeans. She was so aroused she was practically delirious. It was more torture than pleasure, and Mara didn’t know how much longer she could bear it. She had never been this turned on in her life, and something about it felt different, uncomfortable , but she didn’t know what else to do but soothe it.
Axl hesitated only a moment longer, as if unsure of whether or not she should trust Mara’s judgment in this state, but before she could protest again, Mara pushed her hand down further. Her palm flattened against the heat of Mara’s skin. Her fingertips met Mara’s pulse, throbbing just beneath the lacey fabric of her underwear. Mara gasped, shockwaves of energy rippling through her body and vibrating about the room.
“Yes,” she hissed, thrusting against Axl’s hand. “More.”
Axl pulled her toward the bed, and Mara clung to her for dear life. She needed pressure, release. She needed to get out of her fucking clothes so she could move, thrust, feel . Her jeans felt like sandpaper against her sensitive skin as she shimmied them down and off, kicking them, along with her heels, to the side just as Axl sent them tumbling onto the bed.
Mara landed on top, knees hugging Axl’s thighs. The heat of her sex burning through the material of her soaked panties, warming Axl’s fingers. Mara looked down at Axl with blurred vision, took in the crimson aura wafting off her in waves. It was like something out of a dream. Something hazy and unreal.
“Oh God, what’s happening to me?” Mara muttered as she thrust against Axl’s hand again. She couldn’t wait, couldn’t be bothered with trying to remove any more clothing. She just needed release. She pressed her hands to Axl’s breasts, squeezing the small mounds in her hands and bracing herself as she began to rock, almost violently, on top of her best friend. She didn’t even realize that with every thrust, every shudder, that hazy red aura hovering over Axl was drifting toward her and soaking into her skin. She was absorbing it.
Axl moaned. Her eyes fluttered. “Mar…” Her voice sounded weak, almost drunk, and Mara bit her lip. Axl was clearly just as into this as she was.
“Don’t stop,” she said as she pressed down harder against Axl’s open palm. It wasn’t enough. She reached down, just enough to slide her panties to the side, and as soon as Axl’s fingers slipped in, Mara let out a wail.
“Fuck!”
She slammed herself down on Axl’s fingers and thrust as hard as she could, the wet sounds of her immense arousal echoing about the quiet room.
“Mar…” Axl’s eyes fluttered again. Her head lolled on the mattress. Her wrist weakened, began to go limp, but Mara couldn’t stop. She just kept thrusting, so delirious in her pleasure that she couldn’t tell if any of it was real or not, or where she ended and Axl began.
Another thrust and the crimson waves wafted toward her again, melted in through her pores. It was like vaporized sex, and Mara couldn’t get enough of it. She moaned and kicked up her speed, staring hazy-eyed up at the ceiling as she fucked Axl’s hand.
“Stop.”
The voice was jarring, like ice spilling down Mara’s spine. She snapped to her left just as blue flames burst to life beside her bed and within them, the Watcher. Mara expected fear, but all that came was a rush of heat that shot straight between her legs. She kept thrusting, kept rocking herself back and forth on top of Axl’s hand as she met the Watcher’s obsidian eyes.
“You must stop now, Mara,” he said, hands folded calmly in front of him and eyes locked hard on her. “Unless, of course, you want her to die.”
Mara frowned, the words cracking through the thick exterior of her lustful haze and sinking in. She looked down at Axl, saw her own hands clutching so tightly to pale skin that it had become red and irritated. Axl’s head had rolled to the side, eyes closed, chin bobbing against her shoulder as Mara rocked on top of her. Fear shot through Mara’s chest as the sight finally sunk in, finally clicked, finally managed to wake her up .
“Oh God,” Mara croaked, voice shaky. “Wha—what’s happening?”
“There’s still time,” the Watcher said. “You can save her if you stop now.”
Mara continued to rock, unable to make her hips stop grinding. Pain welled up inside, pain mixed with pleasure, and she couldn’t stop it. She felt drunk and sick and fucking powerful at the same time. She couldn’t make herself stop. Her mind felt fuzzy and overloaded, and her body moved without her permission, desperate for something she couldn’t name.
“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t stop.”
“You can,” the Watcher said. “Discipline your mind and your body will follow.”
“How?” Mara’s eyes started to water. She took a deep breath only to see a fresh wave of red energy float off Axl’s body and up into her mouth, as if she was some sort of vacuum sucking up everything Axl was, or used to be. No, no, this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This has to be a dream. “Please, please, help me. I can’t—”
“You must ,” the Watcher said, voice firm. “Focus. Reach inside yourself. Push past the haze and find your center.”
Mara tried to focus. She took deep, cold breaths, gulping down the cool air to try to assuage the heat coursing through her body. She was on fire, melting from the inside out, and when she looked at her flesh, she could see the flames. They licked up the length of her, a shock of blue in the dark. She was disoriented, out of whack—like a scattered puzzle that simply wouldn’t piece back together—but the more she focused, the clearer she became. The confusion hiccupped and dissipated. The haze receded from her vision. The heat began to ebb, the flames dying, and suddenly, she wasn’t so powerful. The feeling leaked from her body as rapidly as it had come, and all that remained in its place was sheer, unadulterated horror.
“Oh God,” she whispered as she looked down at her best friend. She climbed quickly off Axl’s body and slipped one hand under her short hair. Axl’s head fell limply against Mara’s palm. “No, no, no. What did I do?” Mara’s eyes stung. Tears welled up and began to fall. “Axl? Come on, Ax.” She whirled on the Watcher. A sob shot free as she snapped at him. “Why isn’t she waking up?!”
The Watcher was as calm as ever. He stood still in the darkness, staring at her with his piercing black eyes. His hands remained folded in front of him. “She will need time to recover,” he said, voice dark and smooth as black silk. “She has been depleted, drained of nearly all her life’s essence.”
“Drained?” Mara shook her head. “Her life’s essence? What does that mean ? How could I have done that? I don’t—I’m not—I don’t fucking understand!”
“You will,” the Watcher said, “in time.” He took a step toward her, his presence imposing yet somehow, inexplicably, comforting, and Mara found herself leaning toward him.
“It’s nearly time,” she said, eyes snapping up to meet his as the words came back to her. “That’s what you said to me. It’s nearly time . Is this what you meant? Time for me to lose my mind? Time for me to nearly kill someone?” She cups a hand over her mouth and closes her eyes, takes a sharp breath through her nose. When she drops her hand, her lips quiver. Her voice slips into a whisper. “What’s happening to me?”
The Watcher looks her up and down as if searching for the answer, then he lifts a hand and runs his index finger along the line of Mara’s jaw. A shiver shoots down her spine at the touch and Mara is shocked when blue flames suddenly erupt in the Watcher’s eyes. She’s shocked further to realize that what she’s seeing is a reflection. The flames are her own, licking along her jaw, following the path of his touch.
“You aren’t losing your mind, Mara.” His voice was velvet, and her name was rich on his tongue.
Mara blinked as tears sprung to the surface again. “I’m having a hard time believing that.”
“Believe it,” the Watcher said. “You aren’t mad. You are other .”
“Other,” Mara whispered, closing her eyes as the Watcher’s thumb wiped away a tear that managed to slip free. “What does that mean?”
“It means you are not human,” he said. “Or rather, you are only half -human.
Mara’s eyes snapped open again. Her brows shot toward her hairline. “I’m sorry. I…” She shook her head, trying to find her voice. “Wait, what? Half…? No. That’s not possible.”
A smile as predatory as it was charming touched the Watcher’s lips. “So very much is possible, Mara. Do not close your mind as the humans do.”
Mara continued shaking her head, a mindless action. She wasn’t able to comprehend what she was being told. How could that be possible? How could any of this be possible? She glanced back to the bed, to Axl’s limp, comatose body. Pain lanced through her. She’d done that. Somehow, some way, she was responsible for Axl’s fragile state, her near death. Carefully, she grabbed for one of her blankets and covered Axl’s naked chest, then cupped her cheek. Her thumb caressed the corner of Axl’s mouth. God , she thought, if she doesn’t come back from this. If she doesn’t…
A flash of memory sparked in her mind. She could so clearly see it in her head, the red waves being siphoned off Axl’s body and absorbed through her own skin. It was something otherworldly. There was no way of denying it. She took a deep breath and turned back toward the Watcher, wiping another rogue tear from her cheek.
“What the hell am I?”
The Watcher held a hand up in the space between them, the same charming, dangerous smile on his face. He flicked his wrist and a ball of brilliant blue flame appeared in his hand, drawing a gasp from Mara. He then pressed the flame toward her, causing Mara to jerk back, but the Watcher clucked his tongue and beckoned her forward again.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, and when Mara leaned forward again, he pressed the ball of flame to the flesh of her shoulder. She felt nearly nothing. No heat. No burning sensation. Only the slightest tickling tingle. “You see how the flame doesn’t harm you?”
Mara stared at the fire licking over her skin, mesmerized. “How is that possible?”
“Because, Mara,” the Watcher said, “you are a Shade.”
The fireball dimmed and suffocated to nothing as he closed his hand, and Mara stared at his fist as if hoping it would reignite. “A Shade,” she muttered, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. “I don’t know what that means.”
“The Shades are an immortal race,” the Watcher said, and Mara’s eyes widened. “Of course, your human half will prevent immortality; however, you will outlive everyone you know, Mara, everyone you have ever known. Everyone you love. You will live for hundreds of years, and the longer you live, the more powerful you will become.”
Every word from the Watcher’s mouth felt like cotton being pressed into Mara’s ears. It all seemed fuzzy, muddled, something entirely and completely incomprehensible. How could she be this, this Shade thing? How could she live for hundreds of years? How could anyone ? She was beginning to expect she had fallen and hit her head at some point and simply couldn’t recall. A brain bleed. A massive hemorrhage. It was the only explanation she could come up with for such grand hallucinations.
“The more powerful,” the Watcher said with an air of caution, “and the more insatiable.”
“Insatiable?” Mara asked. “What do you mean?”
“The urges you have experienced of late,” the Watcher said. “This is your nature. You feed on the energies and essences of others. It is the ultimate pleasure and your means of survival. We name you a Shade, as you are, but your kind is not unknown among the humans. You have graced their mythology for thousands of years. They would know us as demons and you, Mara—a Succubus.”
Mara’s jaw dropped. She blinked, shook her head. “ Demons ?! A Succubus? The man-eating women from hell?! With the, the, what the hell is it? The snake tongue things?!” She immediately stuck her tongue out and tried to look down at it, eyes crossing to the point of causing her head to ache.
The Watcher’s mouth tilted up at one end. “I never said their mythology was accurate , merely that it existed.”
Mara resisted the urge to continue inspecting her tongue and sucked it back into her mouth. “I…I don’t know how I feel about this,” she said.
“This is natural,” the Watcher said. “Human-Shade hybrids such as yourself are rare and come into their abilities much later in life than born Shades do. Confusion is expected, as is fear.”
Mara swallowed around the thick knot in her throat. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “What if I’d killed Axl? What if I kill someone else? I can’t control it.”
“You will learn,” the Watcher said with such confidence Mara actually believed him for a moment. Then her doubt began to seep in again, and she twisted her fingers together in front of her.
“And you? Are you the same as me? Are you a Shade?”
“I am,” the Watcher said with a swift nod, “though not the same as you. As you will come to learn, there are many different types of Shades.”
“How?” Mara said. “How am I supposed to learn? How am I supposed to learn how to control myself? Who’s going to teach me?”
The Watcher inclined his head, something so formal it felt ancient. It sent a shiver through Mara’s body. “This is my duty,” he said. “For most, I merely watch. I observe and report. I, at times, guide. But for you, I offer much more.”
“Why?” Mara asked. “Why me?”
“Because,” the Watcher said, “you are mine.”
Mara blinked. “I…I’m sorry, what? What do you mean I’m yours ?”
He reached forward again and ran his finger along her cheek. His thumb grazed her bottom lip, and as it did, flames erupted atop his suit again. It was as if he enjoyed the touch, and the thought ignited Mara against her will. Something about the man made her hotter than hellfire, and that was okay, she realized, since hellfire couldn’t burn her. She was apparently made of it.
“You are not only a Shade, Mara,” the Watcher said, stepping closer until his lips were nearly close enough to touch her own, “you are also my betrothed.”
The words took Mara’s breath a moment before the Watcher claimed her lips, and the world around them melted into blue fire.