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

His face had inched closer to mine, as if pulled to me by magnetic force. I heard a scraping sound either side of my head, as if the claws within his gloves were gouging the tree. And his eyes . . .

They had dipped to my mouth more than once, lingering.

We were playing a dangerous game. And neither of us could seem to stop.

23

“I shouldn’t have come.”

The abrupt statement slapped my face like a cup of ice water. “W-why?” I sputtered as he pushed away and stepped back several feet. I shivered, keenly feeling his absence.

“Because this can’t happen. It’s impossible.” He turned around, the shadows rising as he shoved both hands through his hair.

The rejection stung. I knew that it shouldn’t. That the connection between us was twisted and nonsensical. But I couldn’t let him go. At least not without closure. “Is it my touch?” I pressed, stepping forward. “Because of what I can do to you?”

He stilled, but didn’t face me. “Yes,” he said, and my chest tightened at the admission. “But that’s not all,” he continued, looking over his shoulder at me. “I made a vow a long time ago. I can’t break it.”

I frowned. “What kind of vow?”

He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” I lurched forward when his shadowy form quickly receded, afraid that this was it. This was goodbye. I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready.

Expecting him to vanish like he’d done so many times before, I was shocked when he actually stopped and turned my way. So shocked that I struggled to find my voice. Swallowing, I blurted, “At least tell me what I am. After all we’ve been through together, I deserve to know that much.”

And he did. Finally, after weeks of prodding him for an answer, he said without pause, “You’re a Syphon.”

I blinked, then slowly rolled the strange word on my tongue. “A Syphon.”

He nodded. “A rare subsect of witch, so rare that you’re currently the only one living of your kind. You don’t possess your own magic, but have the ability to absorb and use the essence of any supernatural being or object. A long time ago, Syphon witches were nearly hunted to extinction. Ambrose, the vampire king, put a bounty on their heads. They were all marked for death.”

Whoa. Information overload. Not that I was complaining. He was finally giving me answers, and I was grateful. But a witch? A witch witch? And I was the only one of my kind? “How did you know? That I was a Syphon, I mean,” was the first question that popped out.

“The scent of your blood. All Syphons have a signature wintery mint smell.”

Goosebumps erupted over my skin. My blood smelled like a breath mint? Well, that wasn’t weird or anything.

I sobered then, focusing on the most troubling thing he shared. “Why did the vampire king want to kill off my kind?”

“Jealousy over their unique power. Fear of what they could do. Revenge for what one of them did to his son. The usual things that cause lifelong feuds and wars.”

“That was a long time ago though, right? The king is dead and things can change. I mean, we’re in the day and age of diversity and tolerance. Supernaturals don’t seriously want to kill me because of an old feud . . . do they?”

I pinched my thigh, not caring that he noticed. Something told me that I was getting to the meat of this story and I wasn’t going to enjoy the aftertaste.

Lochlan stepped toward me, saying, “The king is still very much alive, McKenna, and so is the feud. One thing you need to know is that vampires are very set in their ways, especially the king. The passage of time won’t change that.”

I gulped, forcing myself to remain still while he approached. “And how long have your kind been hunting mine?”

He reached for me and I stiffened, nervous of his intentions now that I knew the truth. Cold leather skated across the back of my hand, making me jump. He freed my thigh from further bruising, dislodging my fingers and entangling them with his. “A hundred and thirty years.”

I didn’t know what shocked me more: his answer or that he was holding my hand.

Struggling to concentrate on the conversation and not the press of his fingers, I said, “But that would make the king—”

“Immortal. He’s around five hundred, give or take a few years.”

Uh . . .

A few more moments ticked by, then . . .

Oh. Oh.

“So . . . does that mean you’re immortal too?”

“I’m one hundred and forty-nine.”

My mouth dried. Freaking fate balls, I was attracted to a one hundred and forty-nine year old man! He didn’t look a day over twenty though, so did that make it okay? Wow, I couldn’t believe my brain went there.

Lochlan waited patiently while I gawked at him as if he were a museum exhibit. Crap, he was old enough to be an exhibit.

What really shook me though was my calm reaction to the news. I mean, I was internally freaking out a tiny bit, but I wasn’t exactly running for the hills. To be honest, I didn’t really care about his age or immortality. It even excited me, knowing he had two lifetimes worth of information in his head. He must know a lot of cool stuff.

“McKenna.”

“You’re in highschool,” I said, as if the revelation was more shocking than him being immortal.

He lapsed into silence again, carefully studying my face.

“I mean . . . that’s kinda funny.” I bit my lip, struggling not to laugh.

“About that.” Lochlan let go of my hand. “I can’t attend the school anymore.”

The urge to laugh died. “What, why?”

“It’s too dangerous for you to be around me. My movements are being watched. That night the vampire attacked you—he had friends. I’ve already disposed of two that were lurking on my property, but if there are more, they’ll keep coming. And if word