Crimson Psyche
made you incapable of rational thought, so I will take matters into my own hands. Like it or not, you will be protected.”
    He disappeared.
    Devereux’s suffocating behavior had gotten to the point that I had to take a stand, even if it seemed self-destructive, stubborn and stupid. I couldn’t continue to hide behind him. It had been my decision to involve myself in the vampire and vampire wannabe worlds, so there was no point in cowering and playing the Damsel in Distress. I had to learn to take care of myself or I’d spend the rest of my life being a victim.
    Thinking about cowering made me remember my unnatural altercation with Devereux. Something was definitely different. I remembered eagerly holding up my end of the tussle, even taking a sadistic pleasure in grabbing handfuls of that platinum hair. My temper had slipped its leash and run amok, and that was new for me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but I couldn’t deny I’d enjoyed the exhilaration.
    “Hell, yes! Kismet Knight, Ass Kicker!”
    After the flurry of chaos, being alone in my townhouse was odd. The silence pressed against my ears, and the lack of drama felt empty rather than peaceful. Had I become addicted to the soap operas of the bloodsucking world? Was I hooked on the neuro-chemical rollercoaster?
    With those disturbing thoughts in my mind, I wandered over to my desk and sat. Extensive paperwork was a staple of my chosen career. As I started to rummage through the insurance forms and consultation requests on my desk, I suddenly remembered I’d left my briefcase, containing my current client files, at my office.
    Did I want to drive back over there, or—
    Damn! My driver’s license was in my purse, which was also still at my office. Then another revelation rolled over me: driver’s license, hell! — my car was still there! I pounded my fist on the desktop and belted out a primal scream. Good thing my neighbors were in Mexico. I should’ve stopped thinking about Devereux’s hormone-kindling face and body long enough to gather up my personal belongings. “Crap!” I slapped the desk again. “I wish I could just think myself there. A few minutes ago it was Vampire Central Station. Where’s a vampire when you need one?”
    I could even envision exactly where I’d left my possessions.
    As soon as I pictured them in my mind, there was that familiar swoosh, and I found myself in my office. Or I should say, sprawled on the floor of my office. It was like somebody had opened a cosmic door, positioned a foot on my ass and pushed me inside.
    Stunned, I sat up and gazed around. I’d landed next to the desk where I’d left my purse and briefcase. Apparently, just imagining the place I wanted to be was all it took to get me there now. I patted myself down, making sure all of me had arrived and reassembled in the correct order.
    After I mentally scratched my head for a few seconds, I burst out laughing. Devereux was going to have a stroke when he found out. Well, maybe not a stroke, because one had to be alive for that, but he’d surely suffer some kind of undead affliction. The idea that his destined beloved had developed her own superpower and might be able to survive day-to-day without his constant intervention would be as welcome to him as a broken fang.
    When my laughter died down, I sobered. I’d just done something impossible, and the cautious part of me pursed her lips and shook a finger in my direction. She didn’t think this situation was funny at all, and she was very concerned about the source of these new skills. She thought I ought to contact Devereux immediately and tell him about this surprising development. She was worried.
    Whoa. This is getting crazy. She? Isn’t she me? I should definitely call Devereux.
    But apparently not all of me agreed. In the midst of the anxiety, another opinion forced its way into the discussion and I felt myself smile, almost as if my facial muscles had a mind of their own. Why tell Devereux

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