Isabelle Wren isn’t like everyone else. She has special psychic powers, which set her apart. Her devoutly religious parents left her to be fostered by a spiritist named Zenobia, when she was very young. Now, she works hard at not showing how different she is. Working out at the gym, she notices someone watching her.
Slowing the treadmill to a gradual stop, she stepped off and drank from her water bottle. Feeling eyes on her, she checked the mirrors before turning around. No need to alert someone to the fact she knew she was being examined. It was a man, she was sure. Off to her right, behind her. Since there were at least six men in that corner, she closed her eyes, sending out her other senses, as her foster mother had taught her. Zeroing in on the third man from the right, she opened her eyes. Spotting him in the mirror, she examined him. He glowed, but it was neither blue, gold, nor red. Instead, he had a dark, vivid green around him. This was a color she had never seen before.
Zenobia, her foster mother, glowed purple, as did she. Green was foreign to her. Staring at him in the mirror, water halfway to her lips, it took a moment to realize he was walking toward her. Not to be taken be surprise, she swung around, ready to leap if needed. He was smiling, but anyone could smile. He lusted, that was readily apparent, but every man in the room did, to one degree or another. His hair was black, with a blueish tint. His swarthy skin was scattered with thick, black hair. She was tall, he towered over her by a good six inches. Her body was toned, fit, lean. His was heavily muscled. She would bet that even his feet were fit.
The room grew very still, the air vibrating between them as he advanced, eyes locked on hers. He moved with a sinuous grace Isabelle had never seen before. The room around them receded when he stopped in front of her. His eyes were as black as his hair, not dark brown. He gazed down at her, his lust rising.
“What are you?” he asked sharply.
“I’m Isabelle Wren.”
“I didn’t ask your name. What are you?”
“Might ask you the same,” she snapped.
Clamping her lips shut, she fussed at herself. Zenobia had cautioned her never to allude to her gifts, not to show she was anything but human. Now, she’d broken the cardinal rule, seconds after meeting this man. Color rose in her cheeks as he stared at her, undressing her with his black eyes. He seemed to peel away her skin, searching bone deep. He tried to probe her mind, and recoiled. A millisecond of fear passed across his face, and a low rumble thundered in his chest.
“Issy?” a cheerful voice broke the spell between them.
It was her friend, Candy. She was as human as can be, and a genuinely good person to boot. Isabelle hung out with her, because there was nothing artificial about Candy. What you saw, you got.
“Hey, girl! Who’s your friend?” Her bright blue eyes twinkled as they raked his body. “Hey, sugar. I’m Candy.” She held out her hand.
The dark man glared at her, then her hand, before turning his back. He walked away, shoulders hunched with suppressed anger.
“Well, ain’t he just a special sorta rude?” Candy said.
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure what to say to make him go away.”
“I saw you struggling. You didn’t know whether to kiss him, or kick him.”
“I was opting for the latter.”
© 2020 Dellani Oakes