A Friend in Love
A Vampire in Disguise 1
BY:
Amelia Wilson
CONTENTS:
Invitation From The Author
Also By Amelia Wilson
Introduction
Chapter-1
Chapter-2
Chapter-3
Chapter-4
Chapter-5
Chapter-6
Chapter-7
Chapter-8
Chapter-9
Epilogue
About The Author
Other Books in A Vampire in Disguise Series
Preview: A Rizer Wolfpack Series Book 1
Copyright © 2018 by Amelia Wilson
All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Invitation From The Author
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Also By Amelia Wilson
A RIZER PACK SHIFTER SERIES:
Love Beyond the wall
Sight of Love
Claimed by Love
In Love with the Enemy
Love for you Alone
A Rizer Wolfpack Series BOX SET
RUNE SERIES:
Rune Sword
Rune Master
Rune Hunter
Rune King's Daughter
Rune Romance Complete Series BOX SET
SENSUAL ABDUCTION SERIES
Aeon Captive
Aeon Fugitive
Aeon War
Aeon Ending
Sensual Abduction Series Box Set
UNBEARABLE ROMANCE SERIES
Bearly Deniable
Hunting for Love
The Soul of a Bear
UnBearable Romance Series
THE ADNA PLANET SERIES
Baston
Sca
Ruby
The Adna Planet Series Box Set
THE BLUE FALLS SERIES
Rival Love
Strong Love
Magic Love
PHOENIX RAISING SERIES:
Awakening
Ignition (July 18)
WICKED VAMPIRE SERIES:
A Chosen Fate
A Dark Truth
A VAMPIRE IN DISGUISE SERIES:
A Friend in Love
A Witchy Girl
A Final Game
A Vampire in Disguise Box Set
Others...
To Catch A Killer
The Alien Surrogate
Alien Message
Wild Winter
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAmeliaWilson/
Website: http://www.ameliawilsonauthor.com/
Twitter: @AmeliaWilsonB
Instagram: @ameliawilson.author
Introduction
Yarra sat in her room, listening to the noises coming from the hall. She had been waiting for him to come. The time on her wristwatch showed that it was fifteen minutes past midnight. He was on time.
She was lying on her side, with her back facing the door. With a small creak from the un-oiled hinges, the door opened. Still, she did not turn to face her mysterious visitor. She already knew the purpose of his visit. Her ears picked up every rustle of his footsteps against the parquet floor.
Arms hugging a throw pillow, she tensed just slightly. She would not give him the pleasure of knowing what she knew. The tears started welling up in her eyes.
The fine hairs on her neck stood up. She knew that he was standing two feet away from her. It was strange how the faint smell of his cologne made her emotional. In her vision, he had been wearing a loose white shirt, skin tight jeans, and a silver choker that she had gotten him for his birthday. Yarra yearned to turn and look at him. Perhaps her vision had been wrong, but that had never happened before.
Her back facing him, she heard the smooth sound of his finger running against something metallic. ‘The gun,’ she thought to herself. The slightest of click came from the revolver. He took aim, and Yarra did not dare move. She would let her vision play out the way she wanted it to. There would be a letter on her table addressed to him. Perhaps he would read it after killing her, perhaps not. She would not know.
Chapter-1
The Present
Death is inevitable. Humans know that much, though when and how are questions they can often not answer.
Yarra could. And she had seen hers. Nothing fancy. In her vision, she was lying in bed, and the clock was a quarter past midnight. She, from a third person’s point of view, saw a man hold a gun to her back, followed by a loud explosion. All was dark afterward.
She also knew the identity of her killer. He looks suave, and cruel; a smirk present on his face as though he relished the opportunity to rid her off the face of this earth.
Presently at the moment that the vision occurred, she was on a date with him. He was not the same person that she had seen in her vision. The man in front of her was mild-mannered, intelligent, and even quirky. Yarra watched him take a scoop of ice-cream from the bowl. A dollop of vanilla fell onto his lap. She handed him a tissue to wipe at the spatter on his brown khakis.
“I’m sorry,” he says nervously, accepting her offering. “I’m just a bit nervous.”
She let out a polite laugh. His emotions were genuine. There was nothing extraordinary about the man in front of her. He was average in height and features. Pockmarked in the face, the only trait of his that transcended the sublime was his smile, warm, almost incandescent smile.
No way could he be the man in the vision. That man she saw held on to the gun as though he had been using it all his life. He was a ruthless killer. The person in front of her right now had dropped his fork twice and spoon thrice throughout their date.
“What do you have to be nervous about?” she asked him, fishing out another tissue from her purse.
He accepted it graciously. She had a point. The guy in front of her was a total babe, very much unlike the losers she had dated. At least he did not constantly talk about himself.
“It is just…, I rarely go out on dates. And…, and you are…”
He did not finish his sentence. Instead, he looked down and blushed.
Yarra reached for a scoop of ice cream they were sharing. Her heart was hammering in her chest.
How would she let him know that he would kill her one day? In a year to be exact. She couldn’t. He would have looked at her as though she were a complete lunatic!
“What are you majoring in?” she asked to distract herself from the thoughts in her head.
“Economics. You?”
“English literature with a minor in contemporary art.”
He looked at her with a smile that warmed her entire body. For a moment, Yarra forgot her future vision and enjoyed the first date she had had in years.
The café across the street from their college was packed with people coming out from their mid-morning classes. It was
one of the sort of dates arranged by her friends.
They complained that she did not go out much, but what was the point of going out when you knew what was going to happen? She could not enjoy football matches because she would know who would score the winning pass.
Her visions came at irregular intermittency, but she could predict which man would make a pass at any of her girlfriends. Whenever someone came up to her with a possible setup, Yarra’s precognitive abilities were able to tell her their future together – sometimes even as far as seventy years.
Though in her vision, it showed the possibility of happy marriages, Yarra was bored. She would have known what to expect with all these men. The lure of the mystery was already lost.
When one of her friends, Sharanya, had spoken to her about Avice, Yarra listened as politely as possible. As Sharanya continued her spiel about the cute boy in her economics class, Yarra nodded, already knowing that her mental precognizant nature would shoot into a flurry of future images about her life with Avice.
Only, it did not come. As Sharanya spoke, Yarra’s mind refused to form any vision pertaining to the subject. That was the first time such a thing happened. And it was the reason that she had chosen to meet him.
The date had gone off to a great start. She watched him fumble with his food but otherwise provide wholesome conversations. It was apparent that he found her extremely attractive.
Most men would have found her sharp, discerning nature off-putting. Not Avice. He appreciated it.
They were midway throughout the date when Yarra saw something like a tattoo half-hidden beneath his shirt. The visible part of the tattoo looked like the tip of the blade of a knife which settled just above his left collarbone.
Immediately, her mind went into a future-reading frenzy. But instead of multiple images forming in her head, all she saw was one. It was Avice standing with a gun to her back and a smile on his face. She saw him pull the trigger.
She could have run away from him, but it was too late.
At the end of the first date, she was already falling in love with Avice Selleck.
Chapter-2
One Year Ago
Aside from the vision of Avice killing her, there was nothing odd about him. He harbored no secrets from her. Or at least, she thought so.
The closer she was to a person, random visions often came to her like vivid dreams, enumerating the person’s many possibilities. It could be as mundane as their lunch for the next five days or as significant as the person they were about to marry.
But not Avice. Try as she might, nothing came to mind.
And she loved it. For the first time in her life, she was free of the ability of knowing things before they happened. But, it was the lack of information about Avice which made her unable to ascertain his future movements.
Two months into their courtship, she had met Avice’s parents. They were the run of the mill family living an hour away from their college in a quiet suburb.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, although she had seen the same tattoo imprint visible at the collar of his father’s shirt. Funnily enough, it occurred to Yarra then that she had never seen Avice naked. She had not seen him shirtless either.
Just as her hands grazed Avice’s father’s for a shake, the same vision of him killing her returned. This time, it was more vivid. He was still clothed in white with skin tight black jeans. She could see the make of the revolver this time. But, what was different was the smirk. He was not leering at her. His eyes were squinted because there were tears welling, but it was still an upward curve of his lips. It was as if he was trying hard to find a silver lining to killing her.
Still, the grip of his hands on the gun was steady, and he did not waver at pointing the barrel down at the small of the back. He fired the shot, and she was back in the present moment.
“You did not tell me that your girlfriend was a beautiful young lady, Avice!” his father boomed, clapping him on the shoulder.
Yarra stood in the middle of the room with all of them, hoping that her face did not belie her actual emotions. This was the first time that a vision had repeated itself. Was her precognition trying to warn her of Avice? She did not know.
His mother congratulated the both of them, though Yarra did not know what there was to be congratulated for.
They seemed happy, no…, they seemed relieved that Avice had found himself a lady friend in Yarra.
His mother went on to confirm Yarra’s thoughts, saying that Avice was too busy with his work and study to care about anything else.
“Work?” Yarra asked, between buttering her bread. “You didn’t tell me you worked.”
It was just a pleasantly curious exchange, but she saw his father’s face darkened. Avice looked at his meatloaf and shrugged. His mother looked as though she had said something she should not have said.
“No…, no dear. What I meant was work in general. Coursework, assignments and all that,” her mother tried to avert the situation.
Yarra nodded to make them feel relieved. But in her heart, she knew that something was increasingly bizarre about the Selleck family.
Her suspicions grew when she saw that Mrs. Selleck too had a similar tattoo to Avice and his father. A tip of the blade snaking from the fold of her shirt just below her left collarbone!
She resolved to ask Avice about the tattoo on their way back to the college.
In the car, Avice was unusually quiet. After the mention of his ‘work,’ he withdrew into a shell of silence.
“Is everything okay?” Yarra asked.
“Yeah,” Avice said glumly. “I hope my parents weren’t too over-bearing, baby. They’re just too happy to see me come home with a girl like you. Mom almost gave up on me finding a girlfriend altogether!”
“Nahhh, they were awesome. Your mother’s a lovely cook,” Yarra said, keeping the conversation light at first.
“It has been months since I have had an awesome home cooked meal. You saved my life!”
Avice laughed at this. He seemed more at ease. Yarra took this as an opportunity to pursue the topic of the tattoo. Then the oddest thing happened. In her mind, she had formed the question – “Why do you and your parents have the same tattoos?” But try as she might, she could not verbalize the words.
There was an anchor underneath her tongue which prevented her from uttering those words, as though she had lost the capabilities to do so.
Her mind became frazzled. She tried another alternative; to ask him about tattoos in general.
“Do you like tattoos?” she asked, the words slipping out quicker than she had expected.
Avice looked at her in perplexity. “Well, I guess they are cool. Why? Do you plan on getting one?” he asked.
“No,” Yarra asked. She asked him whether he had any tattoos on his body. The question came out effortlessly, not blocked by any mysterious forces.
Avice’s answer surprised her. “Nope. No tattoos. My parents don’t like people having them.”
Yarra stared at him in disbelief. She could easily see the gray scale shaded tip of the blade snaking out of his shirt. She tried to ask him about the marking on his body, but again, she could not form the question.
Try as she might, she could neither speak of this mysterious marking on his body nor point it out with her fingers. There was a barrier between them that prevented this from happening. What the hell was happening?’
“Are you okay?” Avice asked with an amused look on his face. “You look constipated!”
Try as she might, she could not form verbalize, or act out that she could see the tattoo on his body. She tried to speak slowly. “I. Can. See. Your…” but the final word, ‘tattoo’ refused to leave her tongue. Her tongue was laden with the inability to speak of it, much like a mental taboo.
“See my what?” he frowned.
“Nothing,” Yarra said quietly.
That night, they had sex for the first time. She was still reeling over the repetition of the vision of her dea
th. Compounded with this was the fact that there was a block from speaking of his tattoo.
A germ of an idea formed in her mind. She would pretend to caress his body, and carve out the shape of his tattoo with her finger. At least that would allow her vision be acknowledged by Avice.
If only it was that easy. When Avice undressed before her, he revealed a surprisingly supple, lean body. He often dressed in clothes bigger than his body size.
Never had she seen the way that he had developed a beautiful upper body, which snaked down to narrow hips. His chest and abdomen were toned, not ostentatiously like those beefcakes in the gym.
These were muscles he continuously used – the sculpted arms showed defined muscles often seen in fighters, those who practiced a particular martial art. His body was not for show. It was the body of a combatant.
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