Page 5

T he thing about being a psychic no one told you was that you tended to be blind when it came to your own life.

I used to think my curse was limited to seeing the shadows of the dead, but now and then, I saw other things, too. Inexplicable things.

Things that inspired people to make up fairytales and folklore.

Magic.

Monsters.

Mysteries.

That kind of thing.

Now, I knew the man in the truck was okay, after all, Penelope had sent him, and his truck bore the Motley Crewd Ranch logo.

But I wasn’t expecting a psychic vision to fill my head the moment we locked eyes, which was probably why it hit me so hard.

It felt like a thunderclap in the stillness of my mind, jolting me out of reality.

My pulse started racing as the world around us blurred into insignificance.

The second I met his intense gaze I was struck by a vision so clear it rendered me speechless.

I saw flashes of images—vivid colors swirling together, landscapes shifting like sand in the wind.

There was a darkened field surrounded by tall, imposing trees. The space was filled with ethereal flickers of light, as if by some unseen moon or maybe they were stars.

Shadows danced across the tall grass, but there, in the center stood a figure cloaked in mystery. It was not human.

I sensed a deep, raw emotion emanating from him, a blend of desperation and hope, as if he were caught in the throes of something monumental.

I moved closer inside my mind’s eye and caught my breath when he came into focus. The figure was a wolf.

A gigantic, savage looking brute. But I wasn’t afraid. This beast would not hurt me. I just knew it somehow.

My vision intensified, flooding me with sensations that were both exhilarating and terrifying.

I felt the weight of a thousand unsaid words pressing against my chest. Suffocating me. Urgency hummed inside my veins, but understanding was still beyond my grasp.

It was like I was witnessing a pivotal scene in a story yet to be told. It was important and somehow it had something to do with me.

This all took place in a moment. Just a moment. But it felt like a thousand years.

I was completely captivated by the wolf I saw in the strange man’s emerald colored eyes.

This was no ordinary animal. He was special.

Enormous.

Powerful.

Breathtaking.

I wanted to touch the beast. To reach out with my fingertips and dance them across his thick black fur while staring into those glittering green eyes.

I never saw anyone with eyes like that. So stark and real. I saw pain and torment, and a loneliness that equaled my own. But I also saw potential and loyalty.

The vision was so powerful I hardly recalled what I said to him as I whispered directions to the field.

I closed my eyes, and just as suddenly as it had begun, the vision shattered like spun sugar.

The cacophony of the world rushed back in with a blast of thunder that shook the truck. He told me to stay inside while he worked, and I was grateful for the reprieve.

I needed a moment to center myself.

When he came back, I pretended this was all normal. That I was normal, and I introduced myself.

“I’m sorry, I, uh, forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jezebel, Jezebel Braydon.”

He seemed to think a good long moment before he accepted my hand. Like even he could tell, this would be life-altering.

His hand was so big it engulfed mine, and that vision I had before came rushing back with even more force.

The intensity in his emerald gaze deepened. I could see questions forming in his eyes, mirroring the chaos swirling within me.

“Shit,” I murmured, taking my hand back and looking straight ahead.

“What just happened?” he asked.

His voice was impossibly low, and I swore I heard the wolf growling inside the deep tones.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

What could I say?

Sorry, I am a freak, don’t mind me.

Been there. Done that. And I could tell you from experience, it wasn’t fun.

No. I would just have to make sense of the vision that had felt way too real, too powerful, all on my own.

Later. Much later.

Right now, I was left standing on the precipice of something unknown, caught between the realms of reality and the supernatural.

It was almost as if the wolf in my vision was still there with us. But that just couldn’t be.

“Um, I don’t know,” I said, lying to the man.

I could feel my heart pounding, the weight of the moment pressing down on me, and I knew that whatever I said next could alter the course of both our lives.

“I hope that’s the first and only time you’ll lie to me, Jezebel Braydon,” he murmured, and just like that, I knew I had to get away from him.

“Would you mind dropping me by the house?” I whispered.

“Sure. My name is Emmet, by the way. Emmet Quinn,” he said.

I rolled the name around my head, testing the way it sounded. Emmet Quinn was a good name.

Strong.

Real.

Worthy.

True, I didn’t know him from Adam, but I had no business talking to him or any man. Not with all my baggage.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to ground my thoughts.

“Thanks, um, is there anything I need to do? For the goats, I mean,” I said when he rolled to a stop a few feet from my front door.

Emmet turned his green gaze on me, then his lips quirked in a smirk I was sure had melted hearts and panties , all over the Garden State, and elsewhere since I swore, I heard a bit of country in that deep voice of his.

“Go out with me,” he said unexpectedly, and I froze with my hand on the door.

“Um, no,” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because, um, I don’t know you,” I replied weakly.

“So, get to know me. Come on. Take a chance,” he teased, and dammit I was tempted.

But I knew better.

“I don’t think so. But thanks, anyway,” I replied, then opened the door and ran up the stairs to my house.

I heard his door slam and turned to see just what the heck he was doing. And that was my mistake.

Emmet moved fast. He crowded me against the door, his big body taking up all the space on the top stair. I had to steady myself with my hands on his chest, else I might have slipped.

His big, rough hand cupped the back of my neck, and he tilted my head back, locking eyes with me.

“I shouldn’t do this, but I’m going to anyway,” he said, and it sounded like he wasn’t even talking to me.

But that didn’t stop him from bending down. And it sure as shit did not stop me from responding.

Emmet’s lips crushed mine. His kiss wasn’t gentle or timid. It wasn’t sweet. It was rough and heady. Desire and desperation rose like the tide inside of me and I moaned as his kiss awakened feelings I hadn’t experienced in, well , ever, truth be told.

“There, that’s better,” he said before dropping one more plucking kiss on my lips.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“Do you really want to know?” he replied, canting his head to the side like a curious animal.

I nodded.

“Because I couldn’t just let you go and not kiss you, Angel.”

The admission hung in the air, heavy with implication. It felt like the weight of destiny was resting on both our shoulders.

I didn’t know if I was strong enough to bear it.

“Go inside now, Little Girl. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Then he was gone, back down the stairs. Emmet left me standing there in stunned silence.

A chill raced through me as I watched him from the doorway, his silhouette barely visible beside the truck, outlined by the relentless rain that poured down like the sky itself was also mourning the loss of his kiss.

He stood there for a minute, waiting for me to go inside, I realized with a jolt.

I turned around and went inside, slamming the door and my eyes shut at the same time, trying to stem the sudden rush of emotions threatening to spill down my cheeks.

The sound of the truck backing up and turning around was loud as Emmet drove away. I felt his absence like I felt the cold— keenly .

It seeped into my skin, making me aware of the enormous impact our brief encounter had on me.

What the hell just happened?