Page 5 of Clarity

“Bonjou, Larivye,” he said, the words dripping from his mouth in perfect, beautifully accented Haitian Creole. “Èske sa ou t ap chache?”

?*

* Haitian Creole - Is this what you’re looking for?

Two

Is this what you’re looking for?

The question simultaneously chilled me to the bone and lit a fire of rage, in a dizzying juxtaposition of feeling. Instead of answering, my gaze flitted to the front door, to freedom.

When I looked back, he was so close he was damn near touching me, so close it was like his presence carried its own gravitational pull, tugging me from my own axis.

“Don’tmake me chase you,” he murmured with a sudden hand at my neck, gripping, but not squeezing, forcing me to meet his gaze.

Immediately, I found the acuity to put a wall up in my mind, a skill I’d practiced ad nauseam with my mother, grandmother, aunts. A defense I’d only rarely had to employ before now because I typically made a point of avoiding anyone who had mind-prying as a weapon in their arsenal.

I hadn’t even felt the intrusion, not at first.

I only knew because he’d said something. No telling how long a vampire of his age and significance had been digging around in my head unnoticed. Especially considering the words of the grimoire, knowledge that currently loomed over me, making this interaction not as confounding as it would have otherwise been.

Or… would he not be here, if I didn’t know what I did?

Now, he was knocking at my mind. Little prickles of awareness tap-pirouetted across my skin, rushing under my clothes, into my blood, amplifying the apprehension I was trying my best not to surrender to.

“What do you want?” I asked, needing to break the silence as I weighed the option of challenging his declaration to not make him chase me.

The thought made me sick to my stomach.

I knew better, knew I wouldn’t get far, but being Black, a woman, and a witch… shackles—even metaphorical ones—were anancestrallyoffensive concept.

I didnotdo well with feeling caged in, or trapped.

“We have a vitally important matter to discuss, Riv,” he said, his grip on my neck tightening ever-so-slightly, before he let me go.

I stood there, stricken with… awe?

Fear?

Who knows?

I just watched as he moved to my kitchen table, where he snatched out a chair and took a seat, his legs splayed wide before he patted his thigh.

“Come sit down.”

Ugh.

The rasp in his voice hit me in the most ridiculous way, in the most ridiculousplace.I was instantly, shamefully wet, and somehow…he knew.

He smirked at me, eyebrow hiked as he lifted a hand, making acome heremotion at me with two fingers.

Yeah.

He knew.

Fuck him.

I wasn’t going over there.

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