Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  I search my brain for inspiration and come up with a place. I quickly move around the backs of the buildings, away from the people, the humans, and to the forest area beyond. I know just the place to go.

  *

  The room is dirty through years of neglect, filthy to my sensitive eyes. I try not to think about it. That’s the reason I’ve picked this place: neither man would ever think to look for me here. Mr Breckt would not—could not—bring himself to come to a place like this. Hopefully, my scent will be masked by the years of comings and goings, so that Mr San can’t track me.

  I can hear, with no willing attempt at all, the people in the room next door, and I grimace. My powers are growing stronger. I’m not sure if these are in fact powers, or are just part of being a vampire. There is no hand book to explain anything to me and no one that I can trust.

  Next door is a man and woman. I can sense his thoughts, the things that he wants to do to the woman. All the disgusting, vile things that his wife won’t let him do to her. His heart beats loudly in his chest, impatient to get started. I try to block out the thoughts, but it’s damn near impossible as they invade my mind. The woman is in front of him, slowly peeling her clothes away. She smiles, ready to please him, but her heart does not beat as fast as his. No, her mind is thinking about other things—definitely not the man in front of her, ready and eager.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath to steady myself. I need to block out all my senses, block out everything and everyone coming from the motel rooms around me. It’s almost as if they are in the same room with me, every sound and sensation caressing me. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  I lean back against the wall whilst I try to close everything off around me, trapping all my senses inside an imaginary black box. Just as I’m closing the lid on all the sensations, the thoughts from the man from next door flood me again, and I stumble under the force of them.

  He’s panting, begging the woman to hurry up.

  ‘Your moneys on the side, now get those off.’ Jesus, his words are in the room with me.

  I shudder. This can’t be happening. My stomach turns, although it’s a mixture of both hunger and disgust. His blood is pulsing through him, delving through his veins, and I can’t help but lick my lips as my mouth waters eagerly.

  My stomach wrenches stronger, like I’ve been kicked. The strength of it makes me hug my arms around myself more. The hunger is growing. I take another steadying breath—habit, not a need. Leaning my back against the wall by the window, I feel the sun burning into the bricks behind me, heat pulsing into my back. I sense the man next door, I sense his heat and his eagerness, and I feel the revolting thoughts rushing through him as he holds the woman on top of him with a sneer. She grimaces at the feel of his sweaty hands, groping and pawing at her, though she smiles at him in encouragement. My stomach lurches pity for her.

  I want to help her, to put her out of this misery. I could smash through the door, with its feeble locks, and snap his neck. Her eyes will widen in horror, but I will drain her before she has to consider that this is her end. Her lifeblood will drench my arid throat, and when I am finished, I will drain his dead body too. I whimper and cover my face at my wicked thoughts.

  My eyes are clouding. I’m losing my already tentative grip on reality. The blood lust is growing stronger again. The feeling I have inside makes me hurt, my stomach aching for the blood. I try to steady myself, to gain control. I picture Rachael, her face so lost and sad. I picture my Mum and Dad, and the lust recedes further. I see Oliver, and feel anger. I have to control myself. I have to have vengeance for him. I close my eyes slowly, and as the last slither of light is vanishing, a scent stronger than anything wafts to me. My eyes shoot back open.

  I hear footsteps in the hallway. Steps so light no one else could hear them—but me with my sensitive hearing. I know it isn’t Mr Breckt. I know it isn’t Mr San. However, fear still sounds like an alarm bell inside me.

  I stay frozen to the spot, afraid to move.I can feel so many emotions surging through me,so many coming towards me form this other person, but I cannot grasp on to any of them. They are in turmoil, this other person—vampire, I realise. Anger, resentment, love: all come towards me, but I don’t fear it anymore. I know under no uncertain terms that this is the moment my life has been leading towards. That everything will make sense if I just stand and wait.

  The last of the blood from my previous feed rushes around my body, and I try to calm myself, to not burn off the last of its energy. I try to focus, but it’s useless. It’s as if my body knows what my mind cannot yet comprehend, and is almost giddy.

  The steps stop outside the door. I can almost feel the smile on his mouth. His mouth? How do I know it’s a he?

  My eyes narrow as I watch the door in confusion.

  There is something familiar about ‘him’. Fear and curiosity bounce around inside me, sending shock waves to my stomach. My hunger ignites as I think about my stomach. Then I sense all too clearly the room next door again, my eyes drifting to the wall between me and my meal. The man is dressing quickly, a snarl on his mouth. He’s disgusted with himself for his betrayal to his wife yet again. The woman’s thoughts are cold and uncaring; only his money will satisfy her.

  My eyes shoot back to my own door as whoever is on the other side tries the handle. He can feel me waiting for him. He turns the knob way past the point needed, and snaps the lock in its place, pushing the door open to reveal himself, and I gasp.

  Tears spring to my eyes, as this hallucination comes forward, this new torment to break me of every last thread of hope I have. I sob, my hand covering my mouth.

  “Oliver.” I choke out the word, a strangled sob following closely behind. My skin prickles with the intensity and need to touch him, to make sure that he is real. I reach a hand out tentatively and then withdraw it back as he comes closer, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I look at him, my eyebrows furrowing. He moves with such grace. He’s my Ollie, but different. His shoulders are broader, stronger somehow. His face is more chiselled, more handsome than is humanly possible.

  That’s the point though, isn’t it. He’s a mirage, a figment of my imagination. I’ve finally slipped over the edge into insanity. Surely, it must be one of these things, for he can’t surely be here. I was told he was dead, I felt it in the very core of my being.

  His eyes blaze with lust as he looks me over, taking in every inch of me as though he can see every part of me through every layer of clothing that I wear.

  “Mia.” He speaks my name tentatively, his voice husky and his breathing ragged. His aura shifts around him as he comes close, embracing us both and swallowing us whole.

  Oliver reaches out for me. His fingers slide along my arm, my skin quivering under his touch. Sparks shoot between us as we connect. A fizz, and a pop, as electricity and heat explode between us. He smiles wider still.

  I stare into his face, drowning and lost in those beautiful brown eyes that I have longed to look into one final time. His hand comes up to caress my face, cupping it in his palm.

  “Baby.” He swallows as he thumbs away my tears. Red tears that I haven’t even felt slide down my cheeks. His lips are on my mouth, hot and throbbing with want and need, his greedy tongue rubbing against mine as my mouth opens and welcomes his touch.

  The world is right again.

  He pulls out of our embrace and exhales. His breath hits me hard, and I breathe him in. It feels like the first breath I have taken since dying, and I take great satisfying gulps of it—of him. A haze forms around us, everything turning to a blur where there is only him and me.

  The urge to touch his face is bewildering; I have never yearned for something so much. Even the desire for blood is nothing compared to this. Yet here I am with a thudding in my ears that could not possibly be my stone cold heart, but is something quite close to it. As if he has brought me back to life with his love.

  He sighs. Not an impatient sigh, but a sigh that has me acknowle
dge that we are feeling the same things. We look into each other’s eyes, and in that moment, we both know.

  We are one and the same. We are both vampires.

  His hand reaches for my lower back and pulls me roughly against his hard body, the pressure sending shock waves through me, and I tremble as every pore in me feels like it has been set alight.

  My hands grope up and down his back, his neck, his hair—searching for more of him, needing to feel every inch of him. He leans forward, staring into my eyes, never looking away, the intensity burning right through to my very core. His lips find mine again, the heat overflowing from our mouths as our tongues clash against each other, our mouths open wider, wanting to taste every bit of each other.

  I can feel his breath in my mouth. I groan and lean into him, pulling him closer, our mouths pressing roughly against each other, more urgently now.

  No other thought crosses my mind but this single process of belonging to him in every sense. My body is his. My mind is no longer my own, but his. He is one step ahead of me every time, as he strokes and caresses every inch of my cool flesh that feels on fire with desire for him.

  His hands probe my body further, my mind racing, sending out yet more sparks. I lean back against the wall and sigh when his mouth finds the soft shape of my throat. Gently, but urgently, he kisses up and down it, while I look up and freeze. I see sparks crackling above us. He too, in all his perfection, stops to glance upwards, tilting his beautiful face up, mesmerised by the sparks that pop and sparkle.

  He chuckles as he looks back to me with a steady gaze, and swiftly strips me of my clothes. I frantically pull at his, desperate to feel his body connecting with mine.

  My body heaves as I try to control my clumsy fingers working on his buttons until thankfully, he covers my grateful hands with his, and together we tear the shirt from his back in reckless abandonment.

  Then he is on me, pulling and pressing, desperate for me, the fire inside ignited even stronger than either of us think possible. Our minds mingle, and I am unsure which thoughts are mine and which are his. My answer only comes when my body responds to his touch.

  His lips lock on mine once more, and I’m swallowed up by his want, his need. His love for me.

  The room spins and the world tilts as we slide to the floor in an erotic heap. His hard body presses against mine as it begs for entrance in to me. I open myself legs, wrapping my thighs around his waist as he pushes himself deep inside me. I cry out in pleasure, my fangs instantly releasing, as do his. Flames leap about us, heat building everywhere.

  Our bodies move together gracefully, as if they were two parts of a perfect puzzle—a puzzle where one piece has been lost for far too long, and now we are binding them together before they can be lost again. Sensations vibrate through me, my body shivering as his tongue skims over my breasts, his strong hands kneading them.

  A rumble trembles from within his chest, quietly at first, but getting louder. Oliver moves back to my mouth, his tongue urgently probing inside, until his rumble is a deep growl erupting from him. I pull him deeper in me, grinding my hips against his, my hands clawing at his back. The feeling of need now a volcano erupting between us, destroying every other thought process possible until there is nothing left but his strong arms holding me and his brown eyes boring into mine as his body covers me, moving against me. A rumble erupts again as his pace quickens, and he shudders the feeling emanating from deep within him, and sends shockwaves through to my own body. He pulses in me and we cry out together.

  His hands are on either side of my face as he pulls my eyes to meet his, and his soft lips touch mine. A tingling, burning sensation throbs through our mouths as they touch, and I feel him flinch, and know I didn’t imagine the feeling. His eyes search mine as our lips press together with persistence.

  Trapped in our own bubble, I can’t imagine a better place on earth to be but locked in his arms with his body on mine, like this, forever.

  Thirty-Four

  Mia

  My face is flushed with the effects of…well, everything. Oliver reaches across and picks up some strands of my hair, which have fallen across my chest. He brings them up to his face and takes a long, deep breath, as if trying to burn the smell of me into his senses for eternity. He lets it fall gently back in place.

  As my breathing slows to a steady pace, he rolls off me, to the side. An arm drapes, languidly across my belly. I realise with a slight flush that we are on the floor and my cheeks lift in a grin.

  “What’s so funny?” A voice, strong and deep inside my mind, speaks and I spring up to my knees and away from Oliver with a yelp.

  “What did you just say?” I stutter, staring at Oliver. “How did you…” I can’t even finish my words. He leans up on one elbow, his torso stretching handsomely, and looks at me almost shyly.

  “We’re connected now, Mia. Forever. From what I understand of it, my thoughts are yours, and yours are mine.” He says…with actual words from his mouth this time. “There’s a lot more to learn, things you don’t know yet.” He says guiltily.

  He reaches a hand out towards me. Like a balancing magnet to him, my body responds by leaning forwards, both needing, and wanting his proximity. I flinch, confused and yet mesmerised by the thoughts that flash through my mind. Thoughts which aren’t mine, and yet somehow belong to me now.

  I see Oliver, talking with Mr Breckt. A dingy prison cell. A tall man—Donovan, I think his name is. A young woman, sweet and serene looking. She’s biting Oliver. He’s dying.

  I look to him, feeling nauseous. Oh, baby!

  There is blackness…and then there is me: my face, like a shining beacon of light, pulling him out of the darkness.

  I watch his face closely. The images flash through me, almost painfully. He covers his face, knowing what is obviously coming next.

  Another woman is in front of him, her mouth open in horror as he tears into her throat, the vision turning red as her blood spills.

  I shake my head and pry his hands away from his face and try to look at him.

  “Don’t Mia.” He shrugs me off him, but I wrap my arms over his shoulders, holding him close, our skin on skin contact sending shivers through us both.

  “Ollie. We’ve both done things that we aren’t proud of…”

  He stares at me, his eyes wide. “Aren’t proud of? Mia, I slaughtered that woman!” Red tears brim in his eyes, threatening to fall. “I see her. Every day I see her face.” His eyes squeeze shut and he bangs a fist against his head making me back away in shock. “Shut up, just shut up.” He murmurs to no one.

  I watch him feeling more confused as he battles something or someone I’m not aware of.

  “The way she screamed…Oh god, it just won’t go. She begged me, Mia.” He looks up into my eyes. “Begged me not to, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was her blood.” He looks away, shaking his head.

  I think of the woman that I killed. I search for the image of her pale, dead face, but I feel no remorse when I find it. There is nothing. I don’t feel a thing. Now I am the one to cry, and I frantically try to cover up my wicked thoughts. He can’t know. Ever.

  “Oh, Mia. I’m sorry. I know this must be hard for you. I’ve had longer to come to terms with all this.” Ollie’s arms are around me as he hugs me, holding me tight to his cold chest. I snuggle in as close as I can, needing him.

  The ache starts slowly at first: a low throb, deep down in the pit of my stomach. It always starts the same. I feel Oliver’s shoulders freeze, and then he pulls away from me, looking into my eyes.

  “We need to feed you, sweet cheeks.” I can see pale pink streaks left behind on his cheeks from his tears, and I finally feel guilt. Guilt that I am hiding the horror of who I am from him when he feels so much pain for what he has done. I bite my lip upon the realization that he can read my thoughts if he chooses and so quickly banish my guilt to the back of my mind.

  I pull away. “Feed me? On what? I won’t kill anyone.”

 
; “What?” His eyes widen.

  “I think I’d hurt someone if I went near them now. I can’t do that, Ollie.”

  His eyes grow softer. “It’s fine. We can go back to Mr San, he has blood. It’s from donors, it’s okay. He looks after us, Mia. I understand why you ran, you were frightened…” His arm trails a reassuring pattern up my arm.

  “Ollie, I ran because that vampire, Shauna, was going to kill me. She’s working with Mr Breckt, and the Queen. She wants to go back to them.” I suddenly feel the need to get dressed, but looking about us, I can’t see our clothes anywhere.

  “No, Mia. You have it wrong. They all hate Mr Breckt, and the Queen. He explained everything to me.” He smiles now, as he sees what I’m looking for. “You won’t find our clothes, sweet cheeks.”

  “Ollie, you’re wrong, she loves Mr Breckt. Trust me on this; she made it very clear what she wanted to do to me.” I stand up, continuing to look about the room, ignoring his comment.

  He stands up next to me. Concern is etched on his perfect face, but he also can’t seem to keep the amusement away.

  “Our clothes are gone, Mia.”

  “Gone?” I realise that since Ollie has been near, my thoughts have been clearer. I can’t hear next door, or anyone else inside my head for that matter. It’s as if he has settled my mind. However, my stomach is getting increasingly more painful. My arms clutch around my middle as a stabbing pain reverberates through me.

  “Sit down. I’ll be back, Mia.” He pushes me backwards gently, until I’m sitting on the bed, and then leaves. I see his retreating backside as he goes out the door, and despite the anxiety I feel, I can’t hide the smirk from my face.

  I look around the room for our clothes. I still don’t get where they have gone. In a less than a minute, I have examined the entirety of the room, taking in more than any human would see. I see everything: the cracks in the skirting board, the beginnings of a silky spider webs in the corner of the room, the curling of the wallpaper over a small, damp patch near the leaking radiator. However, our clothes are still at a loss. There’s a patch on the ceiling, as if there has been a fire at one time or another. Dust gathers underneath the burnt patch.