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

“I’m not interested in your games, August,” I called, nervous but also annoyed at his bullheadedness. When no one replied, I fished out my car keys, wanting to avoid another Neanderthal encounter. Remembering my sharpened nails, I jerked my hand up too fast and dropped the keys. I bent, noting with relief that my nails were short and square as I snagged the keyring. The fever must have addled my brain earlier.

I was reaching for the driver’s-side door when a flash of red from the woods caught my attention. I turned, and what I saw froze me solid. There, yards away and cloaked by darkness, were two red eyes. They were glowing, even without a reflective light source. And they were staring . . .

Directly at me.

Before I could so much as blink, they were gone.

3

A man cast in shadow blocked my path.

Only his red eyes were visible as he watched me.

I couldn’t look away, even when he silently stalked forward.

Predator, my mind screamed. Run!

But I didn’t, even while he dipped down to breathe me in.

My eyes flew open and I sucked in a startled gasp, blinking up at my bedroom ceiling while I replayed the dream.

Ever since that night a week ago—the night my aunt went into another packing frenzy—I hadn’t dreamed of the man with the red eyes. But now that I’d seen red eyes watching me from the woods—not once but twice since we’d moved here—my memory of him came flooding back.

Shadow Man, I’d immediately dubbed him—since his features were entirely obscured by shadows. He was black mist in human form. Only his vibrant, piercing eyes were clearly visible.

He’d only approached me one time, but I would never forget the encounter, no matter how hard I tried.

After leaning forward to smell me, he’d said, “You’re not human,” his voice deep and rolling like a crashing ocean wave. When I’d simply gaped at him, too dumbstruck by his appearance to speak, he’d reached out with a gloved hand and captured my chin. “Forget this conversation,” he said, his red eyes penetrating mine. “Forget my face.”

And then he’d vanished.

* * *

“Did you hear about what happened this weekend?” Isla said the moment I stepped through the school doors Monday morning. The hall was bustling with chatter, more so than usual.

“No,” I replied, then quickly added, “Sorry for ditching you at the party on Friday. I couldn’t shake that weird fever.” Thankfully, it had petered out over the weekend.

She waved the apology away, clearly having forgiven me for my disappearing act. Peyton and Hailey joined us then, crowding in close as Isla spilled the news. “A linebacker on the football team, August Henderson, was attacked in the woods Friday night. He’s in the hospital.”

I paused with a hand on my locker as the name registered. “Is he blond-haired and kinda brutish, by any chance?”

“Yeah. Why, do you know him?”

The girls were staring at me curiously, but I schooled my expression, even as my heart sped up. “Not really. We just bumped into each other at the party. He was . . .”

“A jerkwad?” Hailey supplied, winding a strawberry curl around her finger. “What, you were all thinking it! He’s been a misogynistic douche ever since he grew peach fuzz on his face.”

Isla and Peyton mumbled their agreement.

“Anyway,” Isla continued, “my dad said there was blood everywhere. Bite and scratch marks all over him. Must have been an animal attack.”

My eyes flew to hers in alarm. “What kind of predators do you have here in Maine?”

“Black bears, lynx, bobcats, coyotes—they rarely attack humans though,” she tried to assure me.

“Knowing August, he probably instigated it,” Hailey grumbled. Her pale blue eyes flicked to me and she shrugged unapologetically. “I dated him for a couple weeks last year. Worst mistake of my life. I’m still salty.”

I nodded my understanding. Even one minute with him had been too long. “Will the sheriff’s department look for the animal?” I asked Isla.

“Animal control will, but it’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack. We’re surrounded by forest.”

I shuddered, glad that I hadn’t been around when the attack happened. Aunt Tess would have for sure freaked out if she’d known I’d been there. Something like that was cause for a move. Thankfully, she hadn’t found out about the party—just another secret between us. She had come in a few hours after I had on Friday night, sneaking upstairs like a teenager breaking curfew. She’d poked her head into my room, but I’d feigned sleep, still annoyed with her.

I spent the whole weekend in my room, curled up on the window seat drawing nonsensical things on my sketchpad. A chicken’s foot. My ornate armoire. A bonfire.

A pair of intense eyes surrounded by shadows.

I could hear my aunt banging around the house, putting stuff away now that our storage container had arrived. Despite the lingering aches and fever, I’d almost felt bad making her do it by herself. Then bitterness would well up again and I’d resume sketching. I could have asked her where she’d snuck off to with her mysterious friend, but I wasn’t in the mood for her excuses and lies.

Loneliness had pressed on my chest and I’d fingered the bracelet that used to be my mom’s, comforted by its familiarity. Glancing at the bedside table where a photo of my parents and a three-year-old me sat in a silver frame, I’d whispered, “Wish you guys were here,” a habit of mine when dealing with Aunt Tess became too much.

If they’d never taken that vacation without me—if they’d never boarded that plane—I was certain my parents and I would have been close. They would have told me everything, never leaving me in the dark. We would have stayed in the same house for years, and I would have countless close friends. They would’ve allowed me to have a job. They would have been proud of my future dream to