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It was late summer. The days were still long and balmy but the wind off the ocean took a bite out of the heat. This was her favorite time of year. She busied herself in the act of cooking dinner while her mind wandered. She cut up fruit and washed some baby spinach leaves and prepared a half chicken breast for the grill. While it cooked, she started mixing ingredients for a light vinaigrette dressing. While her hands worked, she pondered her recent events.
She was having a bad week. That was all, she thought. She tried to make herself believe it. It happened to people all the time, right?
Needing a caffeine fix, she had made a trip to her favorite coffee shop. on her way out, she ran straight into a reporter who was far too busy looking through his camera lens to watch where he was going. Damn paparazzi. It had cost her $5 in good coffee. It had cost him at least $5,000. The hot liquid spilled all over his professional digital SLR camera, into his telephoto lens, and fried the digital display. Serves him right, she thought. Next time he might look where he was going instead of trying to get a picture of her buying coffee. It would certainly give him something to write about, however.
In the name of good PR, she had offered him an exclusive interview; it was a peace offering to make up for his macchiato-filled camera. Her agent was going to flip. She was already mad at her this week. She just couldn't seem to catch a break.
She had called Jessie Foxx to give her the news, before she had the chance to hear about it from someone else. Jessie had been a personal friend since they were kids, so Alyssa knew this would not be a pleasant call. Jessie had always had two sides to her. There was Alyssa's friend, the kind-hearted shy Jessie, and then, there was her agent Jessie. At work, Jessie was fierce, demanding, and relentless.
“An exclusive?” Jessie yelled through her ear piece. “Don’t you think I have enough work to do this week? When are you going to have time for that?”
“I’m sorry, Jess, but what was I supposed to do? It was either that or wait for the headline: ‘Alyssa Thomas Attacks Reporter With Morning Coffee’.”
She groaned in her ear. “I’ll have to postpone it, at least. I’ve got my hands full at the moment with your fiasco earlier this week.”
"I know, Jess, no need to remind me." Currently, her personal car was being repaired after a fender-bender. The other motorist turned out to be a huge fan and was less worried about the damage to her bumper and more concerned about having Alyssa sign just about every scrap of paper she could find, including the hood of her car, which undoubtedly would turn up on an auction block before long.
The police who responded to the accident decided it was a no-fault accident. A faulty traffic light had been blamed. The damage had been minimal and there were no injuries involved, thankfully, but it had caused a stir in the eye of the media. Still, she had been able to put a positive spin on the situation by posing for pictures with her unlucky fan and, in addition to the autographs, had agreed to donate $50,000 to the charity of her choice on her behalf.
It was for a good cause. The money went to the ASPCA, and Alyssa could not have been happier that she picked such an outstanding organization. On top of that, she agreed to make commercials for the organization to help raise more donations. Even without her public relations advisor whispering in her ear, she thought she managed to turn a bad situation around. She was afraid she might have gone a little overboard, but they told her she had been both eloquent and magnanimous and they could not have advised her any better.
“Okay, Jess, that suits me just fine.”
“Uh huh, I bet it does. Look, ‘Lyss, try and keep your head down for awhile and stop making so much work for me, okay? I’m busting my butt trying to get you another offer and I can’t have any bad publicity scaring casting directors away.”
“I promise, I’ll stay out of the public’s eye, even if I have to hole myself up for a week.”
“Good. I’ll call you later to check on you. “
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, then. Bye.” She hung up, then plugged the cell phone and the blue tooth into the charger for the night. The only bright point of the week was that it was drawing to a close. Only a few hours separated her from a new week.
She ate her salad while listening to an oldies station. Her favorites were the fifties and early sixties. There was something in the music that was comforting to her. It was beyond her years, but her grandmother Charlotte had played it for her when she was young. She supposed it reminded her of her beloved grandmother. There wasn't a day that went by that she did not think of her and her parents, all of whom had passed away. She stopped to brush a tear from her cheek as she cleared her empty dishes.
She sipped on a glass of her favorite red wine and walked out to her balcony of her top story penthouse. It was a crisp summer night, a preview of the autumn to come. The sky had just cleared after a full day's downpour. The air smelled remarkably clean. The lights of the city glittered like multi-colored jewels beneath her. It was beautiful, but she couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that loomed like a dark cloud over her. She told herself it was just the week's events having an effect on her and she walked back inside, draining her wine glass as she did.
She thought herself very fortunate to have so much at her age. She had started off in school plays, and found she had a talent for making characters come to life on stage. She had progressed to Broadway, picked up modeling along the way, and finally her picture had caught the attention of a director who thought she had been born to play the lead in a movie he'd been working on. The film had taken a little over a year to make, but when it opened in theaters, audiences had fallen in love with the green eyes and ebony hair of the lead actress with the sweet smile.
It had been a dramatic thriller. She'd played lead detective on a case involving several homicides. As it turned out, her love interest in the movie was the serial killer who had her pegged as his next victim. It was a hit. Off-screen, her co-star had been very nice and they did date a few times, but it never really developed. The publicity of their off-screen romance, if you could call it that, had put her name at the top of everyone's mind.
Now all she had to do was wait for the next big step in her career. Surely another movie would come along for her, but until it did, she felt in limbo, waiting. Patience was not one of her virtues.
Tonight, though, she was content to retire for the night in her king size bed and her silk sheets. Sure, she didn't really need a bed that big for just herself, but Snickers was more than happy to share the space. She was small for a cat, but had enough attitude to compensate for size. She had long, silky hair of about every color known to grace the pelt of a feline, but mostly shades of chocolate and caramel, for which she got her name. A small bed sat beside the nightstand for Zukko, her long-haired Chihuahua, because Snickers wouldn't share the bed with a dog. Period.
"Ready for bed, darlings?" She asked with a yawn, as she set down her empty wine glass.
Snickers looked up for a moment, then her ears pricked in the direction of a sound Alyssa did not hear. She hissed and darted off the bed and out of the room. Alyssa watched curiously as she ran from the room. It wasn't like her to spook like that. She turned to look for Zukko. His bed was empty. He may not serve well as a guard dog, but his bark usually served well enough to alert her to intruders. Tonight, though, he was silent. He was probably hiding beneath her bed, also out-of-character for the rarely timid canine.
She looked around the room. Nothing was out of place and there was no sign that anyone had been here other than herself, but something just... felt wrong. A trickle of fear ran down her spine. There was a presence that seemed to linger in the air. She felt like there were eyes watching her from the shadows. She turned, intending to flip
the light switch and cast away the shadows to prove she was fooling herself, but something collided with her. Hard and solid, it knocked her to the bed, nearly taking the breath from her. It was still a blur, and her eyes couldn't focus on anything when she felt pain. Was it her neck? Pain mixed with a strange sensation, and then euphoria. She drifted away in her mind as the euphoria rose to a crescendo, forgetting the terror she had felt before. But soon, the euphoria faded and darkness crept in at the edges of her consciousness. She was struck with fear again. She felt her life slipping away, but she was unable to fight, unable even to scream.
No, she thought. I can't die now. Please.
"I am sorry," she heard a voice say: an angel's voice. He'd come to take her to Heaven. She would follow that voice anywhere. "I took too much..." The weight that pinned her down shifted beside her and she was no longer trapped beneath it, but she could not move even without it holding her down.
The darkness of the night and her fading vision kept her angel's face from view, but she could feel him near her. "I can save you, but the life I offer is not the one you had before. If you want to live, you must drink. However, if you do, you will never be the same."
She could just see the outline of a man hovering over her. Death was creeping in on her. She felt cold and her eyes were heavy. Fear struck her, but she could not struggle. She wanted to slip softly into sleep, but something deep within her knew she would never awaken if she did. He bit into his wrist and placed the wound to her lips. The taste of blood filled her mouth. It washed over her tongue like a blanket of fire and she wanted it. The sweet metallic tang brought her senses back to life. No, it was life. She drank, drawn by instinct. The life poured back into her. She felt strength like she'd never felt before. It felt like liquid fire flowing through her veins and she hungered for more, but he pulled away from her before she could fully satisfy the hunger.
Then, without the flow of fire running through her, she felt what was really happening to her. The tissues of her body were screaming in protest. Her heart was beating rapidly, trying to revive the dying tissue, but there was no blood in her veins to quell their thirst. Everything hurt. She was dying.
Chapter two
She screamed in agony and defiance but her throat burned and little sound escaped. It felt as though she was caught in a blaze. Her heart began to slow, deprived of air... And then, it beat no more. She waited for death to come, for her world to go black, but it never did. The world, instead, grew more vivid. Her heart was still and strangely silent, yet she was still here. What’s more, she was more than here. She felt no pain, felt as though pain had never existed.
She took a breath, somehow knowing she no longer needed to, but the action was habit and it brought an assault of smells to her nose. She felt like herself, but she was more aware of herself than she'd ever been before. She felt every muscle, every sinew, and every fiber of her being. The satin nightgown she wore caressed her body and she could hear it whisper as the AC moved the fabric even the slightest increment.
There was so much sensation that she was overwhelmed by it. She felt brand new. No lingering aches and pains from the accident; they had vanished. She felt the breeze from the balcony door, which she had left open. She felt the soft curls of her hair tickling her neck and back. She could feel the trembling and rapid heartbeat of Zukko cowering beneath the bed and Snickers had left her warmth on the bed, making the rest of the silk sheets feel cool in contrast.
The room was alive with new and fascinating scents. She had never before been able to smell so vividly. The lilac candles she had scattered throughout the room were almost overpowering. Her bath soaps were emanating from her skin and hair, cherry blossom and jasmine. Even the scent of her wine was intoxicating to her. The sharp spices colliding with the sweeter fruit elements were blended beautifully with the hint of alcohol underneath.
Not all the scents in the room were as savory. She could smell fear coming from beneath her bed. She assumed it came from Zukko. He had a warmer scent beneath the fear, the shampoo she used to wash him and the pet cologne seemed to offend his natural scent. He smelled of fresh cut grass and summer breezes and wood. She could smell Snickers, too. Her scent lingered in the room despite her earlier exit. She smelled earthier, tainted by a strong fear scent... a foul smell much like the smell of skunk spray. It wrinkled her nose.
Closer to her, she smelled something rich and warm. She smelled crisp linens and a faint aroma of soap. Mingled with the metallic scent of blood, the soothing aroma enticed her. It was unique, like the smell of dusk in late fall. It was like trying to describe the smell of freshly fallen snow. She turned towards the unfamiliar scent, towards her angel.
As she looked upon him, truly seeing him for the first time, she realized he could pass for an angel only if the night had angels of its own. He was tall, dark, and handsome… Surely, a cliché, but it certainly fit. He was beautiful, like he'd stepped right off the cover of one of those romance novels she used to read, too beautiful to be real. He had shoulder-length hair as black as night itself that he wore pulled back at the nape of his neck, dark chocolate eyes that smoldered beneath the surface, and powerful lines that spoke quietly of danger as well as amazing strength. He wore a black dress shirt, odd for the time of year, and dark denim jeans. It looked casual enough, but there was a seriousness that lay hidden beneath the surface. She saw plainly the pain and regret he felt. He was ashamed of himself and not bothering to hide it.
His muscular frame would have suited a professional football player. The way he carried himself suggested a military background, or else he just had extraordinary posture. She felt a connection to this man unlike anything she had ever known. Without touching him, she could feel him. As dangerous as he looked, she was not afraid of him. She kept thinking that she should be. She should be running screaming in the opposite direction, but she was calm and even confident.
"Who are you? Why are you here? What's going on?" she asked him.
He held her gaze for a moment as if deciding how much to tell her before he answered. "You may call me Nevar. I apologize for my rudeness. The least I can do is introduce myself for trespassing on you."
His eyes were intense but she wasn't afraid of him. Instead, she was intrigued. “I am Alyssa Thomas. Normally, I would say it is a pleasure, but I’m not quite sure what to think just now." Her head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton. Thoughts came slowly and it was difficult to concentrate on any one thing.
“It is truly an honor to make your acquaintance, Ms. Thomas. I will entirely understand if you do not return the sentiment, given the circumstances." His voice was as smooth as velvet. It was no wonder she had thought he was an angel. "I truly hope you will forgive me for all that I have taken from you." He paused for a long moment, the pain showing again on his features. "I would not blame you for despising me."
She took in his words slowly. The way he spoke made her think of movies set in older times, no slang, very proper, and his name was unfamiliar and sounded foreign. Though she felt fine, more than fine actually, she knew she had indeed changed. Her hand moved to her neck, where she had felt the pain start. Her fingers found no wound, no blood. Ah, blood. She could taste it still. So warm in her throat, and it had made her feel more powerful than the strongest athlete. The thought frightened her. Realization dawned on her. She had tasted blood, and drank it willingly. It disgusted her. She wanted more.
"You're thirsty," he told her.
"How did you...?"
I can hear you. The voice was in her head, his voice.
She tried to think. You can read my thoughts?
Yes, but only if you allow me to. When you learn how to control it, you'll be able to block me out. For now, it's an easy way to communicate, and stealth is often necessary. I need to get you fed. I promise to explain everything to you afterwards.
Fed? She didn't like the way it sounded, but she found she was starving, despite the fact that she had just eaten dinner less than two hours ago. Why
am I so hungry?
I drained your body of nutrients, but I could not replace them. I will help you get what you need. He held out his hand for her. Suddenly, she realized she was in her nightgown in front of a near-perfect stranger. As handsome as he was, she had misgivings about letting him see her in such intimate attire. "I'd like to change," she told him, but she accepted his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet.
As you wish.
The grin on his face said that he knew her thoughts as well as he knew his own. It also said that he liked what he saw. Her gown was thin, and she now knew how keen his vision was, even in the dark. She let him look. Covering herself up now would make her look childish. It would do her no good to try to hide from his eyes now. He had already seen her, anyway, but she trained her thoughts to keep from giving too much away.
Chapter Three
She walked to her closet and turned on the light. She decided on a pair of designer slacks and a ruffled shirt with a plunging neckline she had just bought the day before. She had planned on wearing it to her next big interview, but it just felt right that she should wear it on the first day of her new life. She had plenty of questions to ask once she got decently dressed. She turned back to see if he was watching her, but it seemed he had decided to give her enough privacy to change.
She draped a cardigan over her new blouse and paired the outfit with a set of gladiator sandals. Standing in front of the mirror, she looked ready for the runway, even without her make-up artist on hand. She walked out of the closet to find Nevar waiting.
Well, how do I look? She found she was beginning to like this more intimate way of communicating. If she concentrated, she might even be able to block him from her thoughts. That would be useful. She may like to talk this way, but he did not need to know her every thought. There were some things she'd rather keep to herself.
He turned to look at her and she followed his eyes as they traveled the length of her, seeming to leave a trail of flame across her skin behind them. You look good enough to eat. He smiled at her. A smile so dangerous and sexy she knew he meant what he said, literally.
The Amulet Page 1