Page 14 of The Daughters of Nyx

I raised a brow and took a sip of the offered coffee. “You still think they’re vampires?”

“I don’t know about you, but they are fuckinggorgeous. Normal people don’t look like that! You were right, there is something weird about them.” Thea took the coffee back and swallowed down the rest. “I even saw Franny out there. I think they’re moving into Mr. Owen’s apartment.”

“No fucking way.” I thought back to what Kacie had told me, and smacked my forehead. “I forgot. Apparently, they booked so last minute because the apartment they were meant to be renting wasn’t ready yet!”

Thea closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. It’s just a weird coincidence.”

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“They aren’t secretly vampires trying to steal our blood. They’re just models turned actors, moving into this shithole to catch their big break.”

“Sure,” I replied, and yet something in the back of my mind was screaming that something wasn’t right.

5

IVY

THE old used bookstore brought me a sense of peace as Thea and I wandered the shelves in anticipation for the romance section. We pretended to peruse the history section—every once in a blue moon, we’d find something useful, like a book on fashion during the regency and Victorian era—but today, only texts on the world wars remained stacked precariously on the creaky, wooden shelves.

Lips pressed into a thin line, I picked up a history of art textbook and flipped to the contents; there was a large section on regency art. It was less than five dollars, but I slipped it back between a Vietnam War book and something on the Titanic. Frowning, I turned, crossing my arms.

Not even a couple of hours ago, I’d seen Rowan and the two other mysteriously handsome men. Yet I itched to find them again. It felt like a necessity, like the air I breathed. I needed to see them, but I didn’t knowwhy.

“To the promised land?” Thea asked, cocking a brow. She pointed to the flowery sign above our heads that read‘ROMANCE’, but I almost cringed at the sight.

Instead, I nodded. “Yep. Lead the way.”

The idea of romance, especially with my mother’s phone call still playing in my head, brought out a twinge of cynicism not healthy for a romance author. I loved romance; I loved the happily ever afters and the grand gestures. The promise of forever. Villains who’d burn down the world for their leading lady. Charming scholars who’d write her poetry and compare her to the heavens.

One thing Kerry and I had in common: we both had a love for the type of love we’d never received.

She’d never loved my father, though I didn’t blame her: how could you love a man who abandoned you? But I’d wondered if she’d ever loved her second husband, my step-father, or if he’d been a means to an end—a provider and maybe a friend—so she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

Since his departure from our lives, she’d never made a move to date again. I thought, subconsciously, she’d sworn off men, because inevitably, she’d be left again.

The chime of the bookstore’s door drew me from my thoughts, and I dragged my feet as I followed Thea from the history shelves down to the large collection of romance novels. Old, and sometimes new, books made their way to these hallowed shelves, and once a month, Thea and I made

the five block walk down to see if they had anything worth carting back.

“You’ve been awfully sullen since Kerry called,” Thea said, stopping at the first wall of old, faded, mass printed romances. “Or is it because we might be being stalked by the Cullens?”

I blew out a breath that turned into a humourless chuckle. “Mostly Kerry. She wants us to go to dinner for Eloise’s birthday. And I need to bring theboyfriend.”

Thea made a face, like she’d eaten a lemon slice, and shook her head. “I wish she’d give up on that. Surely by now she’d be on the same side as my parents.”

Her parents thought we were girlfriends. They’d been excitedly awaiting our engagement news since we moved out at eighteen.

This time, I laughed, and without really looking, started reaching for a book. “I honestly don’t know what’s going through my mother’s mind, but if she wants to live vicariously through me, then sure, be my guest. Maybe we can frame some big break—”

From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of slithering shadow and a skeletal hand reaching for me. My heart thundered in my chest as fear rose in my throat.

I blinked, and the hand was gone. It wasn’t a shadow, but someone in a black raincoat. But the panic had already settled in, forcing me to close my eyes and suck in deep, even breaths. Over the pounding of my heart, I could hear Thea—barely—but her voice helped soothe some of the worst of it.

I’d learnt a long time ago not to fight the panic. Instead, I let it wash through me, and I listened as Thea reminded me that it would pass, that I was safe.

Think positive, my therapist had said years ago when I still saw her regularly. She’d been nice, but in a small town where everyone knew everyone, it had been hard tothink positivelywhen there was a chance Kerry would hear about my problems some way.

You are safe,a voice whispered. Maybe Thea?You will survive this.

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