Crimson Dreams: A Vampire Anthology by Inger Iversen & J.L. McCoy & P.A. Warren & H.D. Gordon & Sheri Kurtz & Alexia Purdy & Katie Salidas & Michael Hammor & R.M. Gilmore & Lissette E. Manning

Author:Inger Iversen & J.L. McCoy & P.A. Warren & H.D. Gordon & Sheri Kurtz & Alexia Purdy & Katie Salidas & Michael Hammor & R.M. Gilmore & Lissette E. Manning [Iversen, Inger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyrical Lit. Publishing
Published: 2014-10-17T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I’d impressed Lysander with my ability to deal with the loss of my mortal life and my eagerness to continue learning our ways.

My skills were developing fast. Our senses and abilities were supposed to grow with age. According to Lysander, it could be years before I would be able to accurately read a mortal’s thoughts. Perhaps more than a century before I could peer into the mind of an immortal. However, at this point, it required almost no effort to look at someone and instantly discern what he or she was feeling.

I was happy with this empathic ability and worked to focus it whenever I was near enough to someone to use it. I focused on the clan, Lysander, and anyone near enough for me to use as a test subject.

Besides the strange warmth that accompanied Lysander’s presence, I sensed happiness and a desire to be close. You would never know this by his outward appearance. His expression rarely gave way to the feelings he kept locked deep inside.

I couldn’t deny I had my own warm feelings for Lysander; but, after the embarrassment of our previous kiss, I wasn’t going to make such a forward move again.

Still, I loved that he would smile at me as he rose every evening. Each time, I wanted to lean in and kiss him, but I wouldn’t let myself. I sometimes wondered if he shared my quiet desire and just didn’t want to act on it. Was there a secret reason he held back? Some unknown fear of commitment?

A few days had passed since saying good-bye to my mortal life when I found myself alone in the house with Lysander. The clan members were all out in the city on their own, enjoying its plethora of entertainments.

Lysander sat in the dining room. He’d spent the last couple of days camped out there, papers sprawled all over the table and a large book in front of him.

Normally, I would have left him alone to his writing, but curiosity got the better of me. He seemed so engrossed, passionately scrawling words across a page of the large book.

I sensed a mix of emotions, some happy and some sad. They filled the space around him, like an aura surrounding his body. Whatever he was writing had a connection deep inside of him. Having only seen brief glimpses of true emotion in Lysander, this new sensation piqued my curiosity.

I walked behind him, peering over his shoulder. There was a drawing of a woman that looked like me.

This must have been what he was working on a few nights ago.

His talent for drawing, in my opinion, outmatched his ability to write. Every sketch I saw of his seemed to come alive on the page. I grinned, admiring the picture. It was like staring into a mirror. He had captured every small detail: each long strand of red hair, the high arch of my widow’s peak, the faint smile lines around my mouth, and the full pout of my lips.