Shadow Touched: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (A Touch of Vampire Book 1) by Becky Moynihan (great reads TXT) 📕

He reached out with a gloved hand. Paused. Inhaled. His gaze flicked to my neck, to where the knife had split my skin. He stared for the longest time, raising goosebumps on my flesh, then resumed his course. Cool leather skated across my cheek. He grasped my chin and tilted my face up.

But before he could open his mouth, I said, “I won’t forget.”

He froze.

His scarlet eyes shuttered. With uncertainty? Fear? Impossible. He was darkness personified. What was more confident and fearsome than him? Still, he hesitated, so I forged ahead, ignoring the way my teeth chattered with nerves.

“You followed me here from South Carolina. I remember when you first approached me. I’d picked up my order from the diner and there you were, hiding in the alley’s shadows. You told me I wasn’t human. You told me to forget your face. But I never did, so don’t bother telling me again. For whatever reason, you saved me tonight. You saved me last week too—at least, I think you did. And I don’t want to forget that.”

His fingers spasmed against my chin. What felt like long, sharpened nails pricked my skin through the leather gloves, and I flinched. Fates, they weren’t claws, were they?

Black, icy mist continued to billow around him, hiding his features from me. All I could do was peer into his red eyes, waiting for him to say or do something, anything. Would he admit to stalking me? Or would he threaten to kill me like he had with August? When he didn’t so much as blink, the tension became too much and I jerked my chin out of his grasp.

Quick as an adder, he snaked a hand behind my neck and yanked me close. I gasped as he dipped his head toward my neck and breathed deeply. Only his gloves touched me, but I felt his breath against my skin like a warm caress. Hints of amber, sandalwood, and musk teased my senses. The scent was familiar, and I struggled to place it.

“Why don’t you fear me?” he breathed against my skin, and my heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings.

“I do,” I managed to croak, my throat constricting. There was no point denying it. He must know how startling his appearance was.

“No. You don’t.” His hold on my neck tightened, and I swallowed, waiting. Waiting for something to happen.

When seconds that felt like hours ticked by and nothing happened, I reached out with trembling fingers and touched his sleeve. He sucked in a sharp hiss and I jerked my hand away. What was I thinking? “W-who are you?” I stammered before I lost my nerve—or before he decided that killing me would be best.

Silence.

Far too late, I became painfully aware of my vulnerable position. We were alone in a graveyard, for fate’s sake! He’d almost strangled someone to death only a moment ago. And, as much as my mind wanted to deny it, I didn’t think he was human. I shouldn’t be asking him who, but what.

“That’s more like it,” his voice rumbled in my ear, sending shivers dancing along my skin. “You should fear me.”

His words finally jarred some sense into me and I tried to pull away. When his hold remained ironclad, I gasped out, “If that’s what you think, then why bother saving me?”

After a long, torturous pause, he said, “I’m not saving you,” and pulled back so I could feel the full might of his gaze. “I just don’t want you dead yet.”

Then, in a blur of smoke and shadow, I was in his arms. He shot across the graveyard at an impossible speed, confirming that he wasn’t human. Before I could even gasp, he set me on my feet again, right beside my dropped purse and jacket.

With a whoosh, he was gone.

* * *

Blood-red eyes.

Amber, sandalwood, and musk.

Black obsidian shadows.

Cold and leather gloves.

Reaching for me. Reaching.

So close to touching.

I jerked awake, desperately clinging to the dream. I knew it was important, that I needed to remember something. But it was slipping, slipping, slipping away.

And, poof, the dream vanished.

“Argh.” I sat up in bed and checked my phone. Three in the morning. I shivered as cool air kissed my bare arms, then swung my legs over the side and stood. After a quick bathroom trip, I returned, only to feel cold fingers of awareness skate up my spine.

Someone was watching me.

I stiffened, listening for any sound. The feeling continued to creep across my skin, raising goosebumps. I spun and almost shrieked when I saw movement, but it was only my reflection in the dresser mirror. I stared at my wide, pale gray eyes for a moment, then rolled them.

I was just about to look away when something shifted in the mirror. I froze and searched the reflective surface, fear tightening my throat. There! A flash of red. I whirled toward the window, noticing that I hadn’t closed the curtains all the way. My bare feet were silent on the cold floorboards as I cautiously approached.

Both French casement panels were cranked open, just enough to let in the night’s chill. I definitely hadn’t left them open. It was too cold outside. A splash of color above the window seat drew my gaze downward and I gawked at the unexpected sight.

Perched on the windowsill, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight, was a single red rose.

I blinked. What the—?

As if afraid the rose would lash out and bite me, I slowly reached for it. When I picked it up and nothing strange happened, I rolled the stem between my fingers and promptly pricked myself on a thorn.

“Ow.” I dropped the rose and stuck the injured finger into my mouth. Another flash of red from outside caught my eye. Pressing my nose to the window pane, I peered into the darkness. For a moment, everything was pitch black. And then, just beyond the treeline, two glowing red eyes winked into existence. I flinched back, then looked again. For once, the eyes