Evangeline rolled to her stomach, pressing her aching bare breasts into the mattress. Maybe her state of undress had spawned the dream, but she didn’t think so. Whatever drug she’d overdosed on had had adverse effects. She’d been hallucinating for a week. Whether sleeping or awake, it didn’t matter. Her sister’s auburn-haired ex-boyfriend had sidled into her brain via psychotropic meds.
She rocked her hips against the bedclothes as the memory of his long, tapered fingers filled her mind. His fingers had circled her waist, spanning it easily, his thumb flicking the thin gold hoop in her navel as his tongue sank between her lips. She could still taste him. Spearmint gum, the faint trace of cigarettes, and the most mind-blowing scent of male.
This image, like all the others plaguing her, left her trembling with need of an addict. But she was no longer addicted to drugs, and didn’t need cocaine to escape her problems or her body. The hallucinations of her sister’s ex had driven her to new heights.
Hot and annoyed, she jumped to her feet, and strode across her bedroom to peer into the long mirror. Short, spiky hair, a wave of violet over one eye, a tiny silver stud in her nose, and two other concealed hoops, one in her nipple, the other in her navel.
The tattoo still shocked her. She couldn’t remember getting inked, not surprising since she’d stumbled home from the club, drunk and buzzed, and tossed back a bottle of Xanax in an attempt to stop the gnawing pain in her soul. Swallowing pill after pill with tap water, she’d wanted to stop the pain forever. But it hadn’t worked. She’d awakened hours later with a tattoo winding from her shoulder to her temple.
She touched the stars at the corner of her eye with a fingertip. She had to admit the rune lettering and spattering of stars suited her.
What would her lover Sean make of this? She shivered thinking of him. Too much time had passed since she’d set eyes—or hands—on his sexy, sculpted chest, or felt his searing kiss. They’d been sleeping together for six months, but she’d refused to let him draw her into his life. Staring now at her new clear-eyed reflection, she wondered if it was time to move toward a commitment.
Her fingers longed for the strings of her guitar, but it was deep night. She couldn’t risk waking her sister, Jessa, or worse, her father. So she settled for leaning against the headboard with the instrument, embracing its familiar weight.
The hallucinations did more than excite her libido. They inspired new music in her, and she’d been writing. Between her job at the bookstore, and being bombed out of her mind for days on end, she hadn’t had time to devote to her true passion—songwriting. Perhaps turning over a new leaf could further her goal of achieving her dream of becoming a songwriter.
As a particular bar of music flitted through her mind, a new vision of Will rose inside her. She slung an arm over her eyes and allowed it to consume her. The short, red hairs of his jaw bristled against the sensitive flesh of her stomach, blazing a trail of heat directly to her sex, which moistened and swelled for him. Then surging upward, his big hands cradled her face, caressing the star at the corner of her eye, and sending a shock straight to her core. Her head fell back, her body shuddering as if on the edge of orgasm. Her fingers fluttered over his muscled chest down to the edges of a tattoo that disappeared into the curling dark hairs cushioning his cock. A flood of emotion surged through her fingertips. A marrow-deep jolt hit her, followed by the taste of desire, and inexplicable tenderness.
Evangeline gently laid her guitar on the bed next to her, thrashing herself for entertaining such feelings for a guy she’d seen only once or twice in passing. Her sister’s ex, Will What’s-His-Name.
Fingers shaking, she lit a cigarette, then crossed to the mirror, leaning close again to study her reflection. This clear-eyed Evangeline was new to her, but she could learn to like her. Another flash of auburn hair crossed her vision, and she stared hard into her dark blue eyes. Thoughts of Sean plagued her.
“Oh Will,” she murmured ruefully, “I don’t even know you.”
* * * *
Evangeline was on her knees, facing east. Stretching her arms overhead, she bent at the waist until her nose touched the floor, then concentrated on deep breathing. Which was important, her only defense against images of
him.
If only breathing could dissolve the guilt she felt about Sean. She’d never made direct eye contact with Will. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d cheated on Sean.
The bedroom door opened. Jessa’s footsteps crossed to where Evangeline held her meditative pose. Jessa’s small socked feet came into view even as her overwhelming floral body spray assaulted Evangeline’s senses.
“What kind of drug are you doing?” Jessa asked.
“I’m not doing drugs. I’m meditating.”
“Meditating? Since when?”
“For awhile,” Evangeline answered, realizing she shouldn’t have responded to her sister’s questioning. Best to ignore Jessa. She’d learned that when they were young.
Jessa leaned against the dresser, watching silently. Evangeline forced herself to draw a deep breath, but it hitched and faded as the vision of Will’s firm, auburn-studded jaw burst behind her eyes.
Stop it, Evangeline. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
“Aren’t you going to talk to me?” Jessa asked at last.
“Talk about what?”
“I’m going to Mexico with Rachel over spring break. Daddy gave me money. He thought I’d been working so hard in college, I deserved a getaway. If you worked hard at anything except getting wrecked, maybe he’d treat you too.”
Evangeline’s skin crawled at the mention of her father. “I don’t want
Daddy
to treat me to anything,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
Jessa continued, nonplussed. “I also came by to remind you to buy our father a birthday present instead of sucking it up your nose like you did last year.”
“What did you get him? A fifth of whiskey?”
“No. He’s barely been drinking this week. I got him an interactive video game console so he can get off the couch when he comes home from work. He needs the exercise. We don’t want him checking out early like Mom.”
Evangeline winced. “No, don’t want that,” she murmured, wanting exactly that. Statements like that made her wish she had drugs hidden in her bedroom. But she didn't. She only craved more of the shocking sensation between her and Will.
Jessa appraised her sweats and spandex tank. “You know, you look like you’ve put on a pound of two. You should watch it.”
Evangeline’s fingers lashed out to snag Jessa’s elbow. She sank her nails into her sister’s pale, unmarked skin, and pushed her out the door.
“Fuck you,” she said to Jessa's back. “Dammit,” she swore softly, swinging back into her room. The CD of trickling water filled her ears. She tapped a cigarette from the pack, and shakily placed it between her lips, feeling less relaxed than ever. If she could conjure up the image of Will and his finger at the corner of her eye, the shock would calm her.
“Hey, Jessa,” she called down the hall.
Her dark head snapped around the jamb of her own bedroom door.
“What?”
“What was that guy’s name you were dating? Will something.”
“Cochran,” she said with a scowl and slammed the door.
Evangeline returned to her yoga mat with a snicker, but sank to it slowly, drawing air into her lungs. A warm gush of emotion filled her. She placed her palms together and thought,
Will Cochran.
The root of her mind blossomed, and his image trickled through, seeping between the velvety petals of her consciousness. Her mind felt ticklish, hazy. She worried that her mental state was deteriorating, because she could now hear him as well as see him.
Through the portal, the room glowed brightly, pulsing with the low, burning music of Jim Morrison. Will’s head was wreathed in smoke. He drew the cigarette to his full lips, sending Evangeline’s pulse galloping out of control.
No,
he said into her mind, squashing the frail connection.
Carefully, she stretched out flat on the floor, face down. Smoke rose from the ashtray beside her head and burned her eyes and nose. She lay motionless for several heartbeats before the sobs overtook her.
Will stared from the second story window of his office at the slumbering gardens below. At his back sat Gracie, her pencil scratching through the trigonometry problems he’d assigned her. If he turned, he would see her long blond bangs dipping into her eyes, and her tongue caught between her teeth.
The freezing wind gusted against the trees, rattling the icicles. He shivered, but not from cold. For weeks, ever since Evangeline had 'Called' to him, he’d been shaking with need. His friends solemnly continued to inform him that he could not battle this phenomenon. It bordered on madness. Maybe he was crazy. Crazy to have Made her immortal when she had obviously chosen to die, and crazy to believe he’d be able to walk away.
He’d been bombarded with vision upon vision of her. Full lips of the palest pink tormented him. The dip of violet hair into one blue eye haunted him. And the memory of pouring his immortal blood into her needy veins maddened him. He couldn’t bear to think of her hot little body. He couldn’t not.
He shook himself, and spun from the window only to be faced with Gracie, who’d abandoned her math drills and was tending her fingernails. He crossed the space in two strides, and snatched the nail file from her. Shock rippled across her features.
“No wonder you had a difficult time in traditional schools,” he snapped. “You’re gifted, but your nails are more important.”
“I’m sorry, Will. I did the first two sets and. . . trig is hard on your cuticles.”
Will paced to his desk and dropped the nail file into the wastebasket. She lifted her pencil, but rather than begin the third set of problems, studied him while chewing the eraser.
His eyes blurred as he stared back. He saw the dark purple section of Evangeline’s pixie-short hair in his mind’s eye. Deep in his soul, he knew she was shaking too. If he waited too long to claim her, she’d go insane. Did he want that?
Gracie snapped her fingers before his face. “Will. What’s going on?”
His mind lived in the Chicago bookstore where Evangeline worked. He could smell the paper and ink of new books, and hear the low hum of voices. Dear God, he could nearly feel her breath in his veins.
“Will.” Gracie broke through his vision.
He emerged with a sigh. “Didn’t the others tell you?”
Her clear, green eyes searched his. “Tell me what?”
“I’ve been 'Called',” he answered. The instant the words left his lips, more images deluged him. Evangeline’s bare hip facing away from him, of grasping her navel ring and tipping her onto her back. Of skimming her taut waist and the gentle swell of her hips with his palms. The vision of his tongue on her immortal tattoo delivered a shock, and he burned with the need to part her thighs and sink into the soft nest of dark curls while sharing their blood, completing the imprint.
“The ‘Calling’,” Gracie exclaimed, her face alive with happiness. “Why aren’t you looking for her?”
“Because, Gracie,” he said, bowing his head miserably, “I don’t want her.”
“You’re being an ass.” Gracie cocked a long blond brow at him.
“And you’re both rude and disrespectful to your professor.”
She released a laugh, light and carefree. “Whatever, Professor Cochran. We’ve known each other, what? Six weeks? I only know the happy-go-lucky, boyish Will, not this stodgy jerk who refuses his destiny.”
He ground his teeth. “You don’t know everything.”
“Then why don’t you explain it?”
He fought to put his reasons into words. He leaned over his desk, and stared through the window at the icy world. His face felt hot and tight. “I don’t want this intimate link with Evangeline Mayer, druggie and party-girl. She’s. . . all wrong for me.” He jammed his fingers through his hair. “I’ve seen her in action at one of the Chicago clubs, pressuring a girl to do cocaine. If she could do that, what kind of moral fiber does she possess?”
Gracie made a dismissive gesture. “People make mistakes.”
“You don’t understand, Gracie. How could you? You’re a baby.”
“Do I have the body of a baby?”
Will avoided looking directly at her. She was smoking hot and she knew it. Model tall, curvaceous with waist-length blond hair, and the confidence of a much more experienced person. She’d managed to grow into her immortal body with a bang.
Enough, he said to himself. He’d had enough women for ten lifetimes
.
But only one of them was immortal, and he was fighting tooth and nail to deny her ‘Calling’.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Gracie said, preening at his dark blush.
Grimly, he met her gaze. “Gracie, I’m sorry I treated you like that. We’re friends, and I should confide in you, no matter your immortal age.” He collapsed into the leather chair behind the desk, and lowered his head into his hands.
“Who is she?” Gracie asked, touching his knee.
“The sister of the mortal girl I was dating. I found her dying on the bathroom floor of their home and Made her immortal.”
“You Made her,” she whispered. “That’s amazing, Will. Aren’t you proud?”
His eyes flashed to hers. He’d never considered the beauty behind his action, only the distress it had caused both parties. Hell, Evangeline didn’t even know she was immortal.
“What’s stopping you from going to her?” Gracie asked. “She’s no longer a drug addict. That’s a mortal frailty.”
“I know.” He jumped up, and began to pace, his boots thudding against the hardwood floor.
“You dated her sister. How different can they be?”
He thought of calm, bright Jessa in her classic jeans, cardigan sweaters, and bobbed hair. Evangeline had a nose ring, a purple spiky hairdo and Goth clothing. Jessa was white cotton where Evangeline was black silk.
He shook his head. “They’re cut from different bolts of cloth.”
“Do you even know her? You’re not giving her a chance. Just because she made one bad choice doesn’t make her a bad person. Look in the mirror.”
Will swallowed his gasp of despair, aware that Gracie referred to the event that had taken place shortly after her Making, when he’d killed an immortal, something only another immortal could do. Every night he’d awakened in a sick, panicked sweat with the spray of the man’s blood on his face. Yet, he’d committed this crime to save an immortal friend. Faced with the same dilemma, he would do it again.
Gracie’s arms wound around him, drawing him into her comforting embrace. She was growing by leaps and bounds. “That single act does not define you.”
He thought it did.
“What makes you think a single act defines her?”
He hadn’t thought of that.
* * * *
Will gripped Evangeline’s firm, round ass, and lifted her against him. Her slender arms clung to his neck as his mouth skimmed the column of her throat, tasting each rune and star. The shock of his touch raising gasps from her. He carried her over the threshold of his bedroom, then tumbled her onto his king-sized bed. Music pumped through the space.
Her body was locked beneath his, small, warm and fragrant. He gazed into her eyes. Dark hyacinth blue, fringed with thick black lashes. A purple lock of hair dipped over one eye, and he brushed it tenderly aside as he smiled down at her. He couldn’t imagine her without the purple hair. It suited her perfectly.
Will emerged from this vision sweating. He lit a cigarette with a trembling hand, and drew the smoke deep into his lungs. Since his conversation with Gracie, he’d experienced one never-ending vision of Evangeline. His immortal mate. The glint of a golden hoop in her nipple, the soft gleam of moonlight on a shapely thigh, the taste of her pale lips. The taste of the moist curls between her thighs.
Emotions burned in his chest.
Now he knew he must claim her, as his body had told him all along. But he had no intention of hopping a flight to Chicago. Not yet. Though most immortals fulfilled their yearnings immediately, Will felt the need to ease into his relationship with Evangeline. She didn’t know she was immortal, let alone bound to her sister’s lover. A man she’d seen only three times. She’d stumbled across their mind link accidentally and hadn’t used it since.
But he could use it.
He shook like a heroin addict at the thought. To speak her name, and ‘Call’ her through all space and time, to feel her mind trickle into his drove him mad with need.
All right, Woman. Ready yourself.
“
Evangeline,”
he called her.
He sped down a dark tunnel, rushing through sensations that made him ache. The sweet warmth of her breath, the rise and fall of her breasts, her legs entangled with his, and the sweat-dampened tattoo on her throat. He exploded through her defenses in a bright burst of joy. Her mind meshed with his.
She gasped at his sudden presence.
Dammit, not now.
He couldn’t stop the laugh from rumbling from his chest as he focused on her mind, and what she was seeing and feeling. Her frantic thoughts resounded in his ears. He knew she trembled with desire.
Then suddenly a dark pair of male eyes loomed before her vision. Will held his breath as the intruder’s hands cupped Evangeline’s face and dropped a tender kiss to the lips of Will’s immortal mate.
Flames of fury pounded his temples. Coursed through his veins. His lungs flooded with the need to roar, but he swallowed the words. His hands fell open. The cool air stroked his sweaty palms.
Happy now, Cochran
?
You got what you asked for
.