Her teeth grazed my neck, taunting. I heard a soft moan, shocked to realize it came from me. My body cried out for it, but my soul screamed no. The eager, pliant faces at Piscary’s intruded. Lost dreams. Wasted lives. Existence turned to serve someone else’s need. I tried to push her away, but failed. My will was a ribbon of cotton, falling apart with the slightest tug. “Ivy,” I protested, hearing my whisper. “Wait.” I couldn’t say no. But I could say wait.

She heard, pulling away to look at me. She was lost in a haze of anticipation and rapture. Numb terror struck through me. “No,” I said, panting as I fought the pheromone-induced high. I had said it. Somehow I had said it.

Wonder and hurt crossed her face, a breath of awareness returning to her black eyes. “No?” She sounded like a hurt child.

My eyes closed in the ripples of ecstasy that flowed from my neck as her fingernails continued to trace the scars where her lips had let off. “No …” I managed, feeling unreal and disconnected as I weakly tried to push her away. “No.”

My eyes flashed open as her grip on my shoulder tightened. “I don’t think you mean that,” she snarled.

“Ivy!” I shrieked as she pulled me against her. Adrenaline scoured my veins. Pain followed it, punishing me for my defiance. Terrified, I found the strength to keep her from my neck. She pulled me with an increasing power. Her lips drew back from her teeth. My muscles began to shake. Slowly she pulled me closer. Her soul was lost from her eyes. Her hunger shone like a god. My arms trembled, ready to give out.

God save me, I thought desperately, my eyes finding the cross incorporated into the ceiling.

Ivy jerked as a metallic bong reverberated through the air.

She stiffened. The need in her flickered. Her eyebrows rose in bewilderment and her focus wavered. Breath held, I felt her grip slacken. Fingers slipping from me, she collapsed at my feet with a sigh.

Behind her stood Nick with my largest copper spell pot.

“Nick,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. I took a breath and reached out for him, passing out as he touched my hand.

Thirteen

It was warm and stuffy. I could smell cold coffee. Starbucks: two sugars, no cream. I opened my eyes to find a red stringy mass of my hair blocking my sight. My arm aching, I pushed it out of the way. It was quiet, with only the hushed sound of traffic and the familiar hum of Nick’s alarm clock to break the stillness. I wasn’t surprised to find I was in his bedroom, safe on my occasional side of the bed, facing both the window and the door. Nick’s dilapidated dresser with the missing knob never looked so good.

The light slanting in past the drawn curtains was faint. I was guessing it was getting close to sunset. A glance at his clock showed 5:35. I knew it was accurate. Nick was a gadget guy, and the clock received a signal from Colorado every midnight to reset it from the atomic clock there. His watch was the same way. Why someone had to be that accurate was beyond me. I didn’t even wear my wristwatch.