Forget it. I’m going back to my date and that’s the end of it. It can’t hurt me if I ignore it. I’m tired.” It wasn’t very rational, but it was the best he had at the moment.
He yanked the door open, threw his hands in his pockets, and headed back to his table, not even looking to see if Constance was following.
When he got back there, Isabella was licking the syrup off her fork. Her tongue was pink and smooth, like school erasers Keenan had used in his art. Her plate was clean.
“So,” she said, “too much for you?”
Keenan pushed his own plate to the edge of the table and folded his hands. “Not on your life. But I gotta ask… haven’t you heard the rumors? I mean, why would you want to go out with someone like me?”
Isabella brought her eyebrows together in irritation. “Those damn office gossips,” she snarled. “I hate it when people blow something completely out of proportion. So you talk to yourself. You want to know a secret?” she said, leaning into him and putting her hands on top of his. “So do I. Hell, it’s much more productive to talk to yourself than to those idiots, don’t you agree?”
Keenan chuckled and twined his fingers through hers. “Amen, sister.”
“Besides…” She fingered a curl on his forehead. “…I like a man who has some idiosyncrasies. I have a few of my own… they like the company.”
“I gotta warn you,” he said to her seriously, “mine play rough and it can get a little dicey sometimes.”
That special glare flared again in her eyes. “Ooo.” She lifted her shoulders a fraction and wrinkled her nose. “I like the rough stuff,” she whispered.
That was when he saw it through the window behind Isabella’s head —a large black cloud rolling down Powell Boulevard. It was so huge it was blocking out the light. Sparks of lightning skimmed off the surface.
A cold chill ran up Keenan’s back. Probably not a good idea to stay in one place. Constance was right; he had to get out of here. This was a hell of a lot bigger than the succubus and probably much more dangerous.
“What’s wrong?” Isabella asked. The blush of the conversation made her cheeks glow red.
“Look,” he said, leaning across the table and squeezing her hand. “I need to leave.”
The pain that cascaded across her face stabbed him in the heart. “Oh,” she said softly, taking her hands away. “I see.”
“No, no, no,” he stammered, glancing again at the advancing menace. “Something’s come up.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
He wasn’t sure if it was the pain in her eyes, the throb that was making his heart sing, or just the exhaustion, but he did something then that he regretted almost instantly.
Keenan took Isabella’s hands again. “This has nothing to do with you. You’re going to think I’m crazy…hell, I think it myself…but I need to tell you something. I like you. In fact, I really like you and if we’re going to go where I think we’re going to go, I don’t want to keep secrets from you. I’m very serious about how rough it can get. I need you to like me for who I am. No secrets.”
Isabella tightened the grip on his hand, her face awash with fear and, if he didn’t know any better, exhilaration. “No secrets,” she whispered.
Keenan looked out the window behind her to check the mass’s proximity to the building. It was just hitting the parking lot. The smell of burning electricity stung his nose and static buzzed against his eardrums. This was going to be bad.
“Isabella, I see things…” He stopped, searching her eyes and clearing his throat for courage. “Dead things…the dearly departed…people who have…” He hated the stammering but hadn’t told anyone in a long time, so he was out of practice. The creature was almost at the building. “Do you understand? I see ghosts. Lots and lots of ghosts. Every day, all the time. I have since I was thirteen. I talk to them. Hell, they live with me.”
Isabella slowly
He yanked the door open, threw his hands in his pockets, and headed back to his table, not even looking to see if Constance was following.
When he got back there, Isabella was licking the syrup off her fork. Her tongue was pink and smooth, like school erasers Keenan had used in his art. Her plate was clean.
“So,” she said, “too much for you?”
Keenan pushed his own plate to the edge of the table and folded his hands. “Not on your life. But I gotta ask… haven’t you heard the rumors? I mean, why would you want to go out with someone like me?”
Isabella brought her eyebrows together in irritation. “Those damn office gossips,” she snarled. “I hate it when people blow something completely out of proportion. So you talk to yourself. You want to know a secret?” she said, leaning into him and putting her hands on top of his. “So do I. Hell, it’s much more productive to talk to yourself than to those idiots, don’t you agree?”
Keenan chuckled and twined his fingers through hers. “Amen, sister.”
“Besides…” She fingered a curl on his forehead. “…I like a man who has some idiosyncrasies. I have a few of my own… they like the company.”
“I gotta warn you,” he said to her seriously, “mine play rough and it can get a little dicey sometimes.”
That special glare flared again in her eyes. “Ooo.” She lifted her shoulders a fraction and wrinkled her nose. “I like the rough stuff,” she whispered.
That was when he saw it through the window behind Isabella’s head —a large black cloud rolling down Powell Boulevard. It was so huge it was blocking out the light. Sparks of lightning skimmed off the surface.
A cold chill ran up Keenan’s back. Probably not a good idea to stay in one place. Constance was right; he had to get out of here. This was a hell of a lot bigger than the succubus and probably much more dangerous.
“What’s wrong?” Isabella asked. The blush of the conversation made her cheeks glow red.
“Look,” he said, leaning across the table and squeezing her hand. “I need to leave.”
The pain that cascaded across her face stabbed him in the heart. “Oh,” she said softly, taking her hands away. “I see.”
“No, no, no,” he stammered, glancing again at the advancing menace. “Something’s come up.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
He wasn’t sure if it was the pain in her eyes, the throb that was making his heart sing, or just the exhaustion, but he did something then that he regretted almost instantly.
Keenan took Isabella’s hands again. “This has nothing to do with you. You’re going to think I’m crazy…hell, I think it myself…but I need to tell you something. I like you. In fact, I really like you and if we’re going to go where I think we’re going to go, I don’t want to keep secrets from you. I’m very serious about how rough it can get. I need you to like me for who I am. No secrets.”
Isabella tightened the grip on his hand, her face awash with fear and, if he didn’t know any better, exhilaration. “No secrets,” she whispered.
Keenan looked out the window behind her to check the mass’s proximity to the building. It was just hitting the parking lot. The smell of burning electricity stung his nose and static buzzed against his eardrums. This was going to be bad.
“Isabella, I see things…” He stopped, searching her eyes and clearing his throat for courage. “Dead things…the dearly departed…people who have…” He hated the stammering but hadn’t told anyone in a long time, so he was out of practice. The creature was almost at the building. “Do you understand? I see ghosts. Lots and lots of ghosts. Every day, all the time. I have since I was thirteen. I talk to them. Hell, they live with me.”
Isabella slowly
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