Visions of Destiny (Complete Series)

by Kallysten

  And he had seen it all; she only needed to look at his face to know that. The awe was still there, but sheer joy hid behind it. This was what he had been hoping to see every time he offered someone a vision, she reminded herself. And instead, she had given her vision to him.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said, looking down at her hands and half talking to herself. “It never happened like this before.”

  Out of the blue, he started laughing. “At the wedding,” he exclaimed, gesturing at her hands. “You shook my hand but you were wearing gloves. And tonight you never touched my hand. That’s it, isn’t it? You see things when you touch people’s hands.”

  Feeling a little flustered, Daisy started to head back toward the cottage. She had never talked about this before, not to anyone, not even her sister, and the two of them shared everything. The one person she would have liked to share it with was her maternal grandmother. She had passed away before Daisy’s talent had manifested, but as a little girl Daisy had heard her talk about how she always knew when two people were meant to be together. For fifty years, she had been the unofficial matchmaker in the small town where she had lived, and Daisy had often wondered if her grandmother had had the same kind of talent Daisy did. If she had, she had never told anyone.

  “Not just when I touch a hand,” she said grudgingly, glancing at him for a second. It was useless to play coy now that he knew. “Any skin to skin contact, whether I initiate it or the other person does.”

  Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Were you afraid of what you would see if you touched me? Is that why you wouldn’t let me help you up earlier? And when you gave me my drinks you never touched my fingers.”

  She wrapped his jacket tighter around her. “It’s not just you.” She sighed. It felt strange to talk about this. “It’s been years since I’ve touched anyone new. I decided long ago that I didn’t want to live my life with constant déjà vu.”

  “I’ve seen you touch your friends tonight,” he interjected.

  “Because I’ve already seen so much about them, a lot is just repeats. That’s not too bad. Now the only new people I shake hands with are people I’m not going to see again, like customers.”

  “Customers,” he repeated. “People you won’t see again. How do you make new friends like that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t, that’s how. I have enough friends. I don’t need more, not if it means risking more visions.”

  She took a few more steps in the sand before realizing that Sam had stopped. She turned and looked at him, and was surprised to see pain on his features.

  “A risk? It was a risk to touch my hand and discover your future is with me? Is that such a terrible prospect?”

  Without thinking, she took a step closer to him, then another. “No, it isn’t about you. I just didn’t want to know about my future.”

  “But you already do,” he objected. “When you touch your friends. You said—”

  “No, no.” She had to explain everything, she realized. He only had his own talent for a frame of reference, and hers was different. “What I see is nothing like what you see. You said for you it’s like a movie. For me it’s just flashes. Sometimes just one or two when I meet someone I’m not going to ever see again.”

  That was what usually happened with her customers. Her talent helped her understand exactly what they were looking for and made her very successful at her job.

  “The closer I’ll be to someone,” she continued, “the more flashes I get, but they also get shorter. It just leaves me… impressions. Like, things I should pay attention to, or moments when they’ll need me. It’s never been like this before, never so clear or…or…”

  Her voice trailed off, and she looked down at her hand. Sam had taken hold of it again, and cradled it in both his hands. After years—decades—of keeping such touches to a minimum, it felt much more like an intimate caress than simple handholding. She had had three boyfriends over the years, and each had reproached her for not being more affectionate. How could she have explained that every touch caused more flashes to burst in her mind? Casual touches or lovemaking: any kind of contact had been distracting to say the least.

  But there was Sam, playing with her hand, and her mind remained clear. She twisted her fingers to weave them with his, and still no more visions jumped at her. She could have laughed in delight.

  “Do you see anything?” Sam asked quietly.

  She shook her head and grinned. “No. And you have no idea how good that is.”

  He grinned back. “I can imagine.”

  Keeping his fingers entwined with hers, he raised his free hand and stroked her cheek. The touch felt familiar, even though he had never touched her before. Daisy’s mind was roiling with sensations. However hard it was to remember, they had never kissed—and they had certainly never made love, not even if she knew exactly what his body would feel like against hers, how tender his hands would be, caressing every inch of her. She didn’t only know it; she couldn’t wait to experience it again.

  “I want to kiss you,” Sam murmured. “Can I? You said no all night, but now you have no reason.”

  Swallowing the laugh that was bubbling to her lips, Daisy shook her head. “Yes, I do have a reason,” she said, grinning. “One of those flashes was our first kiss. You don’t want to go against our destiny, do you?”

  Surprise crossed Sam’s features, his eyes widening before they crinkled and he started laughing. He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against her fingertips.

  “All right. If you want to wait, I’ll wait. I’ve waited so long, I can wait a few more weeks.” His gaze softened, and his voice dropped to a whisper when he continued. “Now that I’ve found you, I can wait as long as I have to.”

  The fervor in his voice was startling. Whatever they had seen, whatever they knew was coming, they still didn’t know each other all that well. To hear Sam speak as if he already loved her was unsettling.

  Could he already be in love with her?

  She pushed that thought aside for now and tried to cling to the familiar. All evening long, she had resisted his demands for a kiss, and even if the reasons were different now, the banter was the same.

  “It’s not like you won’t kiss anyone else before that,” she said, teasing. “It’ll tide you over.”

  Laughing, Sam shook his head. “Do you really think I want to kiss anyone else now?” He was still grinning, but his eyes softened his expression. “I told you why I did this. To find the right person. I just did. It’s time for me to find a new job.”

  Daisy felt speechless, although she would have been hard pressed to explain why. After all he had told her, after all they had shared tonight, both before and after he had taken her hands, she should have known. She should have known him better.

  She watched him for a while, and she could see in his eyes the man he had been, the man he was, and the man he would be. She could see the man she would love—the man she already loved, maybe. In just a few weeks, she would kiss him. In just a few weeks…

  Or at least, that was what those visions had claimed.

  “To hell with destiny,” she murmured, and leaned forward to lay her mouth on Sam’s.

  The End

  Excerpt from

  Out of the Box

  The following is the entire first part of the Out of the Box series. The other parts are available as individual installments or one complete book.

  I had managed to calm down on my way home, being out of his presence helped. But now that I’ve picked up the pen to put all of it in writing before I forget, my heart is trying to break free of my chest again. He’s so different from the other men that passed through my nights. I knew he would be, of course, it was part of the thrill, but while he did what I wanted, what I expected, it’s everything else that made me wonder about possibilities I had never considered before. I’m not a
prude, but what I saw in that box…

  I guess I should start from the beginning.

  I went to a new club last night. I heard about it when I first moved here, but it took me a while to work up the courage to go. It’s a vampire-friendly place. There isn’t a single mirror in it, not like regular clubs where it’s easy to know if you’re dancing with a human or a vamp. It was hard to tell, of course, but I think maybe half the crowd last night had fangs. And the other half… Well, most of them weren’t shy about showing off their bite marks. Necks, wrists, shoulders, it was almost like showing off tattoos. I felt a bit naked, with no marks of my own to display. And yes, I’ve got to admit that’s the reason I went there in the first place.

  I’ve always been fascinated by vampires. I guess it was just a matter of time before I slept with one. In a way, it’s a bit surprising that it took me so long. It’s been fifteen years since I left home for college and started that long string of charming princes that turned into lousy frogs after a few nights or a few months. Fifteen years since I first had sex on that too small dorm room bed. Last night, when he touched me, I felt like a virgin all over again.

  I had been at the club for a little while when he arrived, but when he came onto the dance floor, my eyes went straight to him—and never left. He isn’t particularly tall, and his clothes weren’t flashy in the least, suit pants and a beige shirt unbuttoned halfway down his dark honey chest. But something in the way he stood, in the way he moved, drew me in. I was caught the moment I saw him, and he didn’t even know I was there. Three or four girls descended on him and started dancing around him, close enough that they were practically humping him, but at the same time he seemed to be alone, dancing by himself, for his own pleasure. And let me tell you, he knows how to dance. He dances… It’s going to sound stupid, but I was going to say, he dances the same way he makes love. With the same sensuality, the same strength, and that look in his eyes… Yes, I got to compare both things firsthand.

  When I stepped onto the dance floor and toward him, I just wanted to get close. I wasn’t planning on actually trying to talk to him or anything else. The girls around him were younger than me. Prettier. Sexier. But his eyes looked past them and into mine, he raised his hand toward me, and before I knew it, I had taken it and I was dancing with him. Against him. Close enough that I could tell he had no body heat, but by then I was already sure he was a vamp.

  As we danced, his fingers fluttered over my arms, my back, my sides, barely brushing wherever my dress left skin exposed through those diamond cutouts I love so much. I love them even more after last night. To feel his touch like that, so innocent and at the same time a promise for much, much more… It was intoxicating. I didn’t drink more than a glass of wine last night, but I felt a little drunk when I was in his arms, moving alongside him. I was drunk on his touch, on the slight smile on his lips, and on the heat in his eyes. They are very dark, but I could have sworn I saw flames dancing through them.

  I don’t remember what words exactly he murmured when he leaned so close that his lips brushed against my ear. I remember only that I trembled when I said yes, and his hand slipped down my arm to clasp mine. He led me through the crowd, and a few dirty looks were thrown my way. A few envious ones, too.

  When we reached the parking lot, he opened the passenger door of his car for me and I had this fleeting thought that if I climbed in, there was no turning back—and no telling how the night would end either. I had that fantasy of being bitten by a vampire, of being needed on that very primal level, but I guess one can never know until after the fact whether a vamp is out to feed or kill.

  He gently closed the door after me, and only then did I realize that I had made my decision when I had come to the club, before I ever laid my eyes on him. That thought calmed me enough that, once he had started the car, I managed to ask his name.

  “Anando,” he replied, flashing me a smile. “What’s yours?”

  “Virginia.”

  For a few seconds, the only sound was that of the engine purring, then he asked, “Tonight was the first time you ever came to the club, wasn’t it?”

  “It was. How did you know?” I turned sideways on the well-worn leather seat so that I could see him. In the brief light of passing cars, his features were hard to distinguish.

  “I am there just about every night.” Another smile in my direction lit up his whole face. “I would have noticed you if you had come before.”

  From anyone else, at any other time, I would have snorted at such a claim. But it was difficult not to believe him when he had ignored the girls at the club to reach toward me instead. My cheeks felt on fire.

  “So what brought you there tonight?” he continued when I didn’t answer. “Looking for anything in particular? Anyone?”

  You, I wanted to answer, but it was just too cliché. And I had a feeling that he already knew anyway.

  The ride was short. When he pulled up into a driveway, the house that appeared wasn’t anything I would have imagined. In my mind, vampires had to live in old, decrepit mansions, all the windows boarded up against the sun, with a family graveyard or maybe dark woods in the background. Instead, he led me up a pathway lined up by fragrant rose bushes to a contemporary one-story house with wide French windows. The inside wasn’t the dusty, candle-lit interior of vampire movies; rather, it was a sparsely furnished but comfortable home, with light wooden floors and earthy tones on the walls and fabrics.

  “Would you like a drink, Virginia?” he offered as we walked into the living room.

  I would never have thought I’d be bold enough to suggest what I said next. “Would you?”

  I had tilted my head, enough to make it clear what I meant. His eyes caressed the curve of my neck and shoulder and he smiled, just widely enough that I could see a fang.

  “Maybe later.”

  With his hand at the small of my back, he guided me into the hallway and toward the bedroom. The colors in there were darker, bolder, shades of blue on the walls, carpet, drapes and bed linens, dark walnut furniture around the room. The only jarring note was a white wooden chest against the wall. My eyes rested on it for a few moments before Anando recaptured my attention.

  Standing behind me, he rested his hands on my shoulders and slipped his fingers beneath the straps of my dress. They slid off and down my arms at his touch, so that when he pulled down the zipper in the back, the dress fell off me to pool at my feet. I still had on my bra and panties, but I felt naked and exposed. Even more so maybe, because even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was still fully dressed.

  His cool lips pressing at the nape of my neck made me shiver. I thought he would bite me then, and I arched my neck to the side for him. But all he did was kiss me, light kisses along my shoulder while his arms curled around me and held me against him. I could feel his cock, pressed against my ass, hard and grinding against me. It wasn’t enough. I had to hold it, hold him, guide him inside me—and I had to do it now.

  I stepped out of my shoes and pushed them and my dress away before turning in his embrace. The flames I had seen earlier in his eyes were back and I had to drop my gaze. My fingers trembled a little when I undid the only three buttons that held the front of his shirt together. Splayed over his chest to push the fabric off his shoulders, my hands seemed paler than usual against the brown honey of his skin. His nipples were barely a shade darker, and they peaked to small points when I traced my fingers over them. He wasn’t moving at all under my exploration, but I could practically feel, just beneath the surface of his skin, incredible strength tightly contained and held in check. I leaned in and closed my lips over his nipple. He shivered. That I could make such a strong man react with just a touch of my mouth made me feel lightheaded. It also made me crave more.

  In a hurry now, I attacked the fastenings of his pants and pushed them and his boxers down until I could hold his cock in my hand. Thick and heavy, slowly warming up
between my fingers, it was beautiful. Just holding it like that was sending threads of raw want through me. I would have dropped to my knees and worshipped him with my mouth, but he cupped my face in his hand and brought my eyes back to his.

  “Would you like to play?” he murmured. His voice was pure sin.

  I briefly tightened my hand around his cock. “I thought we were playing already.”

  He chuckled quietly at that and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was hard, almost brutal when he invaded my mouth with his tongue. It turned my knees to jelly and left me breathless, and I had to lean against him for support, trapping his cock between us as I did.

  “We can play this game, if you want.” His words were a caress against my cheek. “Or we can try something different.”

  It didn’t occur to me then that it was already different; he was a vampire, after all, and I had expected his fangs to enter the ‘game’ at some point. The promise in his voice was just too much to resist, and I nodded, my throat too tight in anticipation to speak anymore.

  “Look in the box.”

  Even without looking at his face, I knew he was grinning. Gentle hands turned me away from him and toward the white chest I had noticed when entering the room.

  “See if anything catches your eye in there.”

  As loath as I was to sever all contact with him, I did as he asked, and went to kneel in front of the chest. I didn’t know what to expect when I unlatched the top and swung it open. What I found made me blush. Made me lose my breath. Made my whole body so hot that even the two scraps of lace that covered me seemed stifling.

  My eyes took in the contents one item at a time, and with each of them torrid thoughts flooded my mind, flashes of fantasies I had never known I had in me. I have never been one for toys when it comes to sex. Or rather, I had never been. Last night changed that.

  At the very bottom, heavy chains were coiled on themselves, and for a heartbeat I could see myself chained to the ceiling, helpless, exposed, and loving every minute of it. Next to the chains, several pairs of handcuffs, some lined with soft-looking fabric, summoned images of being bound to the four-poster bed and just as powerless. The leather whip resting half on top of the handcuffs made me shiver; I have no tolerance for pain. But the fur flogger with it made something stir inside me that I would never have guessed was there. Sprinkled over all of these were several dildos of different shapes and forms, some no wider than two of my fingers together, others long and thick enough that I took in a deep, shaky breath at the idea of a lover pushing one inside me. Another toy puzzled me for an instant before I understood what the leather strap attached to it was for. I breathed a little harder at the overwhelming picture of the strap-on buckled to my body, and Anando on his hands and knees in front of me on the bed. I had to shake my head to clear my mind a little and keep looking.