Blood Possession by Tessa Dawn Page B

compulsion: “I would feel better if you invited me in.” A vampire could not enter the threshold of a human’s home without an invitation, at least not the first time.
    Jolie paused but only for a millisecond. “Of course, please— come in .”
    Nachari stepped past the entryway into the small living area, where he quickly surveyed the contents of the room. It was sparingly but tastefully decorated, mostly in creams and beiges, and the inexpensive furniture revealed the fact that the apartment was occupied by two young roommates starting out on their own for the first time. How did he know there were only two people living there? Because everything was purchased in doubles: two armchairs beside two matching end tables by the sofa, two bar stools just outside of the kitchen, two eating chairs tucked under a small dining room table, and two doorways facing outward toward the hallway, with one bathroom clearly at the end.
    Nachari noticed several photos on the end tables and an ornately framed eight-by-ten photo of Jolie with her arm around another girl—the same height with blond hair—on the wall: It was Jane, her sister, and obviously, her roommate. By the look of their smiles, their body language, and the laughter they shared in the photographs, the two were very close. Nachari swallowed his bitterness. There was an address book next to a cell phone on the coffee table and a small pad of paper with names written in neat penmanship—and then crossed out—in a series of rows: Jolie had obviously been making calls—probably to everyone they knew—searching for Jane.
    “You know something, don’t you?” Jolie’s faint, uncertain voice interrupted his thoughts. “About Janie?”
    Nachari took a deep breath, focused, and stepped into his duty. “Yes.”
    “That’s why you’re here?”
    He nodded. “Yes.”
    She shook her head as if to dismiss his answer—as if she could dismiss the reality and stop the train wreck about to happen. “No,” she muttered, and the tears began to fall. She cleared her throat, raised her chin, and clearly summoned all of the courage she had. “Are you a police officer?”
    “Something like that,” Nachari answered, hating that he had to lie. He knew that the human was too distraught to question him…to check his background. Besides, his position was irrelevant. What mattered was his information.
    He extended his arm, holding out an open, beckoning palm. “Come to me, Jolie.” The words were a magnetic compulsion laced with compassion, his voice as deep as the ocean, as compelling as the night sky.
    She swallowed hard, some primal part of her beginning to recognize that she was in the presence of a dangerous being—a predator—but his coercion was undeniable: an effortless feat for a five-hundred-year-old vampire and Master Wizard. She moved toward him, her eyes open wide and transfixed on his. Cautiously, she took his hand. “Where is Janie?” she whispered through trembling lips. “What’s happened to her?”
    Nachari gave her hand a gentle tug, pulling her slightly off balance. As she fell into his enormous frame, he gently spun her about so that her back fell against his broad chest, and his heavy, muscular arm encircled her from behind, holding her tight to his body. She fit inside of his large frame like she had been molded to him. Her heart raced, and her legs quivered.
    “Shhh,” Nachari soothed, his lips just above her right ear. He tightened his grip with his right arm while stroking her hairline with his left hand, all the while soothing her with his rhythmic voice. He hated this coercion, this ruse, knowing that in the breadth of one moment—the blink of an eye—Jolie Anderson’s world would change irreversibly. She would go from cautious hope—a life filled with her cherished sibling’s love and friendship—to deep, unrelenting grief. She would go from together to alone . From sharing a life to remembering one, lost. Her world would be forever,