Page 14 of The Second Sight
“I don’t know what they are,” I admitted, surprised by the truth that spilled from my lips. “I bought them today. From a shop called the Wanderlust Emporium.”
Something flickered across his face. His grip on my collarbone eased slightly, though he didn’t release me.
“The Emporium,” he repeated, his voice softening a fraction. “Moira’s place.”
He knew the shop owner by name? The realization sent a fresh jolt of fear through me. What was happening?
“Please,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. “I won’t tell anyone what I saw. Just let me go. I want to go home.”
His free hand moved toward my face, and I flinched, turning my head away. His fingers hovered near the glasses, not quite touching them.
“May I?” he asked with an unexpected courtesy.
When I didn’t answer, paralyzed by fear, he carefully lifted the glasses from my nose. The world immediately dulled around me. Even his face, still handsome, looked more regular handsome, not supernaturally handsome.
He studied the glasses, turning them over in his hands with a delicacy that seemed at odds with the strength I’d witnessed. The blood on his mouth was still visible, though less vivid without the lenses enhancing my vision.
“Ancient craftsmanship,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I haven’t seen these spectacles before.”
While he was distracted, I saw my opportunity. I ducked under his arm and bolted toward the alley entrance, my heart in my throat. I’d made it perhaps six steps when his hand closed around my wrist, yanking me to a halt with enough force to nearly dislocate my shoulder.
Something had changed. His grip, while firm, lacked the bruising intensity from before. When he pulled me back around to face him, his expression had shifted from menacing to curious.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice softer than before. The glasses dangled from his other hand. “I need to know how you came to possess these. And why they work for you.”
“Work for me?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “I don’t understand any of this. Who are you? What are you?”
A smile curved his bloodstained lips, revealing teeth too white, too perfect and two canines slightly longer than they should have been. “I think you know exactly what I am. The glasses showed you the truth of things, didn’t they?”
“Vampire,” I whispered, the word falling out of my mouth like a mistake.
He inclined his head slightly. “My name is Severin Crackstone. Though some call me Seven.”
A name. He had a name. Somehow that made him more real, more terrifying. “What about that woman in the bathroom?” I asked. “Is she ah, ah, did you kill her?”
“She’ll wake with a headache and no memory of our encounter,” he replied casually. “I rarely kill when I feed. Wasteful and unnecessary.”
The clinical way he spoke of drinking blood made my stomach turn. I swallowed hard against the nausea rising in my throat.
“The spectacles,” he continued, holding them up between us. “Where exactly did you get them?”
“I told you, the Wanderlust Emporium, today. It’s my birthday.” I don’t know why I kept mentioning that fact, as if it might somehow protect me from harm. “The woman there, Moira said be careful what you look for. Not all truths are comfortable ones.” I don’t know why I felt the urge to tell him that.
Seven’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Did she, now? And what else did Moira tell you?”
I hesitated, remembering her cryptic words. “Nothing specific. Just that they’d been waiting for me, the glasses.”
That seemed to interest him. His grip on my wrist loosened, though he didn’t release me entirely. “Waiting for you,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Now that is curious.”
The alcohol in my system was wearing off, replaced by fear. Seven noticed my shiver and, in a surprisingly gentlemanly gesture, shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over my shoulders, all while maintaining his hold on my wrist.
Chapter
Six
SEVEN
Istepped back slightly, creating just enough space between us for her to breathe more easily. Her fear, while intoxicating to the predator in me, was becoming counterproductive. I needed her cooperative, not paralyzed with terror. I softened my expression and deliberately lowered my voice to its most agreeable register.
