I splash some cold water on my face in a pathetic attempt to bring myself out of this dream because vampires, witches and secret groups who save the world aren’t supposed to exist.
But after I pat my face dry and open my eyes, the same navy blue walls of Laylen’s bathroom still surround me. I glance into the mirror hanging above the sink and sigh at the sight of my freakish violet eyes that collide against the glass; like my hair does with my pasty complexion. Add the gothic dress, as well as the boots, and I look like a character straight out of the Addam’s Family.
There’s a knock on the door. “Gemma, are you ready to go?” Aislin asks.
I blink one last time at my reflection, then turn away from it, throw open the door and step out. Alex and Laylen are with Aislin, standing next to a table decorated with a vase of wilting flowers. Aislin has changed into a simple grey dress with matching flats and her hair is pinned up. Laylen has the same outfit on; black jeans, a black tee and black boots; it’s a hell of a lot of black. Alex has changed into dark jeans, a long-sleeved, fitted, black shirt and there are leather bands on his wrists.
I give an animated swing of my arm. “All right, throw in a hand that walks around and a creepy Victorian house, and I’m good to go.”
All three of them look at me at the same time and then they go quiet as they stare at me.
Great, I look sillier than I originally thought. “It’s a joke. About the Addam’s Family,” I say, tugging at the hem of the dress. “I should change, right?”
Smiling, Aislin shakes her head, while Laylen coughs into his hand. “No, you look great.” She walks up to me as she digs through her purse. “You just need this.” She draws her hand from her purse and moves a black pencil toward my face. I wince as she traces a line around each eye and then steps back, putting the lid back on the eyeliner.
“She kind of looks like one,” she says with a tilt of her head as she studies me. “You know that?”
Alex steps up beside her with his eyes fixed on me. There’s a raw animalistic look in them that makes the blood rush to my cheeks. “She does, which is good. Maybe they’ll leave her alone.”
I rearrange the top of my dress higher because it’s slipping down. “Look like what?”
“A Black Angel.” Aislin tosses the eyeliner back in her purse and zips it up. “They’re really pretty, but really dangerous.”
“Is that like a Fallen Angel?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” she says. “They’re hypnotic and powerful. They have this way about them that draws people to them and if you get too close to one, they can possess your mind.”
I gape at her. “Possess your mind and make you do what?”
Alex steps forward. “Whatever they want, which is why we have to be careful and stay away from them.”
“Are there a lot where we’re going?”
Alex wavers. “It all depends on the Wicca store. If there’s black magic there, then yes, a Black Angel might be there or maybe even something worse. And it’s good you’re dressed up like that.” His eyes scroll up my body. “Maybe everyone will try not to get too close to you. And we can keep your identity hidden.”
“From the Death Walkers?” I ask. “Or from Demetrius?”
“From everyone.” He moves nearer and blows out a breath. “No one can know who you are, Gemma. If the wrong person finds out who you are—what you are—then word will get back to Demetrius. Or they might try to use the power for themselves.” He pauses. “You’re very valuable.”
Valuable to whom? I let out an uneasy breath and tug at the top of my dress again, wondering what I’m getting into. “I can’t get the ribbon to fasten very tightly. I’m worried it’s going to fall down.”
Alex makes a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around and I’ll tie it.”
I obey and hold my breath as he steps up behind me. Sweeping my hair to the side, he hooks his fingers through the bottom cross of the ribbon and gives it a gentle tug as Aislin and Laylen wander down the hallway toward the front door.
He doesn’t utter a word as he deliberately traces his finger to the next section. I suck in a breath as he pulls on that one too and his breath hits the back of my neck. I try to remain calm as he fastens the next one by pulling it so securely that the leather clutches my ribs.
I put my hands just below my breasts and work to get air into my lungs. “It’s tight enough I think.”
His chest brushes against my back as he laughs and gives the ribbon another tug. “Not tight enough. We don’t want them falling out.”
I bite down on my lip. Hard. And a little blood pools out. “I’m sure they’ll stay put. I can barely breathe.”
His knuckles graze between my shoulder blades as he ties the ribbon into a knot. He’s breathing erratically and his chest collides with my back with each inhale. “I know, but I want to make sure.” There’s an elongated pause and then I feel his lips touch the back of my neck.
I stay still as he rolls his tongue along my skin and gives it a little suck, sending shivers all over my body. I want to crumble to the ground and let him catch me, but he pulls away and the feeling evaporates as he heads down the hall with a swagger in his walk. All I have left is a warm sensation on my back and I'm not sure if it’s from the kiss or the prickle trying to whisper a new emotion to me.
Either way, I stuff it down and follow them out the front door, knowing I have to get my feelings under control, so I can think clearly and keep myself alive.