Blood Possession by Tessa Dawn Page A

daughter with the memories of a child who had died several months back in a skiing accident, implanting recollections of a wake and a funeral, knowing that the grief would be a source of great confusion to them, despite his expert magic: The memories would be months old, but the grief would be fresh and unbearable.
    And now, here he was, ready to do it again. Ready to erase the memory of an innocent human and replace it with something false. Only this time, he would do it to Jane’s sister.
    Nachari swore beneath his breath. He knew all too well how precious one’s memories were, especially of a sibling. He couldn’t imagine losing one single moment of his twin’s life, let alone someone changing any of the events surrounding Shelby’s death, however horrible it had been. Knowledge was power, after all, and it was the knowledge of Valentine’s wicked scheme to take Shelby’s destiny , Dahlia—to impregnate and kill her—that had allowed Nachari and his eldest brother Marquis to ultimately seek vengeance…to finally put an end to the evil one’s life. Nachari shook his head, causing his heavy raven hair to sway. He clutched the amulet around his neck—the one Shelby had crossed over from the Spirit World to give him—and took courage. Then he knocked three times on the door, three steady, long drums echoing in the otherwise quiet night.
    The girl who answered was thin and slight. She had medium-length auburn hair, cut in a side bob, and large brown eyes that were red and puffy from crying.
    “Jolie?” Nachari asked, pitching his voice in a deep, hypnotic cadence. “Jolie Anderson?”
    She stared at him as if she were transfixed. Her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes swept over his face, memorizing his features—each one in turn—then down to his toes and back up to his intimidating shoulders. Her lips quivered in surprise.
    Nachari waited.
    It wasn’t as if he hadn’t witnessed the reaction of human females to his presence a thousand times before. His mother—may she rest in peace—had called it arresting : “Nachari, you must be careful not to abuse your power where women are concerned. You are my son, which makes me a little less than objective, but trust me when I tell you, your beauty is arresting. It is as shocking as it is surreal, and it will give you undue influence over the fairer sex. Do not misuse such a gift.” Nachari had laughed at his mom and responded to his brothers with mock arrogance when they had called him pretty boy , always teasing. But over the centuries, his mother’s words had come to be as wise as the woman who spoke them. With practiced ease, he averted his eyes, breaking the hypnotic stupor he had over the human female; then he gently sent a short wave of energy into her heart region, a lightning-quick zap of electricity that shocked her Anahata—her heart chakra—back into the present, jolting her out of her fog.
    “Um…y…y…yes,” she murmured. “You’re…Jolie. I mean, I’m Anderson. Jolie .”
    Nachari nodded and smiled. “Do you have a sister named Jane?”
    All at once, Jolie’s eyes became dark with trepidation, and her brow creased with concern. “Yes,” she whispered, visibly holding her breath. “Do you know something about Janie?” Her already red eyes glazed over with the onset of fresh tears.
    She knew.
    Somehow, deep in their souls, on a level known only to their unconscious minds, humans always knew.
    “Can I come in?” Nachari asked.
    Jolie looked uncertain. She worried her lower lip with her teeth, and her eyes darted around the porch as she considered his question.
    You desire to let me in, Nachari suggested, pressing a light nudge against her mind. There was no need to go too deep…yet.
    Jolie blinked three times. “Uh, yeah…sure.” She took a step back from the door, clearing the threshold for his entry.
    Nachari smiled a wickedly tantalizing grin. The next entreaty would have to be hers alone, free of