Charleston Past Midnight by Christine Edwards Read Free Book Online Page B

door and seconds later is ushering us quickly out of the back, all the while scanning the seedy street.
    “Guess the party is way over,” Kiana grumbles as they escort us up the narrow, rickety set of stairs to the entrance off of the porch. Kiana uses her key to unlock the deadbolt. The door opens and we step inside. I turn, expecting them to follow us in. I’m surprised that they’re still standing stone-still out on our slanted porch.
    His smooth voice cuts through the silence, and it’s clear he’s annoyed. “I need to speak with you. We can’t come in unless you invite us.”
    My eyes flick between both of theirs, waiting for the punch line. I mean, he can’t be serious, can he?
    Several seconds pass and the stern set of their features remains the same, completely unwavering . Oh man.
    Kiana laughs, oblivious to what they really are. “You guys are messing with us, right?”
    I step to the side and swiftly offer, “Please come inside.”
    They have to duck under the small doorframe as they enter. Kiana and I both back up and stare in wonder at the massive males who are now making our already teeny apartment appear positively miniscule.
    Kiana picks up her iPod and the sounds of Tinie Tempah’s “Written in the Stars” start to flow through the coffee-colored living room. The South Londoner’s sexy rap tune is the perfect distraction from the nearly volcanic tension. I can tell that he wants to talk in private so without saying a word I head down the narrow hallway toward my room.
    He follows behind me and closes the door as he steps inside. I turn on a small lamp next to my bed. He takes a quick assessment of my simplistic white and teal Pier One inspired bedroom before leveling me with his magnetic eyes.
    “Tell me how you know the vampire from Mixture.”
    No messing around there.
    “I don’t.” I answer his question as evenly as possible. I sense that he’s been on edge since we left the club and I don’t want to add gasoline to the already smoldering fire that is his dark mood tonight.
    “You’ve never crossed paths with him before tonight?”
    “Never.”
    He plants his hands on his hips and stares down at the weathered floor before looking back up at me through impossibly long, jet-black lashes.
    In a low, measured, very scary voice he says, “Calla, there is something you’re not telling me and your welfare is at stake. Five-hundred-year-old vampires never show interest in a human like he did with you. I was on the street level, leaving the SUV with the valet when I sensed your mounting fear. I traced up to the stairwell and risked being spotted doing so. Now I’m going to ask you one last time. How do you know each other?”
    “Fine,” I snap, more than a tad uncomfortable to tell him what I’ve never told anyone aside from my brother. “Sometimes I have these … visions.” His eyes flare slightly but he remains silent as I continue. “That’s what I call them. Anyhow, when I saw him, he looked directly at me and then I had a vision of him ….” I trail off, frightened to recount the horrific memory aloud.
    “Continue.”
    He’s tense but giving nothing away as I go on, “I saw him holding me high in the air … by the throat.” I swallow hard as the rest spills from my lips. “Once I had the vision he stared at me, looking surprised, like he saw it too, but that’s not possible … is it?”
    “With him it is. What happens after you have these visions, Calla?”
    Trying to calm the shaking in my legs that is quickly working its way up my body, I whisper to him, “It happens in real life.”
    His dark brows snap together. He looks like he’s trying to solve an impossible algorithm when he asks me slowly, “Always?”
    “Yes, always.” I can only manage a strangled whisper.
    I can tell that he is trying hard to wipe any trace of emotion from his features, but I can see from his silence and tense demeanor that he’s despondent about what I just told him, and