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  “Isn’t that like those people who say they can read minds?” Riah asks.

  “Telepathy is one of the claimed paranormal abilities, yes. Clairvoyance, reincarnation, and telekinesis are a few more.” Dr. Parsons looks around the room, “There have been a multitude of studies on people who have stated they have supernatural abilities but no validated proof has ever been established. That could be because these so-called abilities, or powers, if you will, are only scams, or maybe it’s because the scientific community hasn’t yet developed a way to effectively evaluate these abilities in a controlled environment.” Taking a sip of his coffee, Dr. Parsons studies the room, his eyes twinkling like they always do before a debate begins, “So, what do you think?”

  It doesn’t take long for the debate to start as Jake lets out a laugh, “I think it’s like those people who believe in Bigfoot. They’re all total whack jobs.”

  “Hey,” Brian, the football team’s star kicker, calls out, “Bigfoot exists; he’s Kyle’s dad.”

  The room erupts in laughter as Kyle, who is particularly hairy, throws a waded piece of paper at Brian, “Not funny, smartass.”

  “Alright,” Dr. Parsons holds his hands up, failing miserably at hiding his smile, “no expletives allowed, and what have I said about calling people ‘whack jobs’, Jake?”

  “Sorry, Doc,” Jake quips, still laughing.

  “How many of you have ever had déjà vu?” Dr. Parsons asks, walking up the aisle as he raises his own hand, “I have.”

  He stops a few rows in front of me, and I smile at how he scans the crowded classroom. It’s obvious he enjoys teaching and his excitement is contagious.

  “Come on,” he teases, “I know I’m the epitome of awesomeness, but I can’t be the only one in here who has had that feeling of experiencing something before when you know you haven’t.”

  Laughter echoes through the room again and a few more hands are raised.

  “Ah, some fellow supernaturals are joining me,” Dr. Parsons grins. “Seriously, most everyone has had a freaky moment or two when something you can’t rationally explain has happened. Do you chalk that up to a paranormal event or simply a state when your intuition was more sensitive?”

  “There’s a difference between having a few déjà vu moments and claiming you have the ability to see the future,” the brunette bimbo scoffs.

  “You’re right, Avery, but many influential psychologists argue that we all have the ability to tap into paranormal powers.”

  “If that were true, none of us would be here today. We’d all be using our powers to teleport to the beach or get rich,” Jake argues playfully, holding up his wallet, “at least that’s what I’d be doing.”

  Dr. Parsons clutches his chest, “That hurts, Jake. And I thought my class was the highlight of everyone’s week.” He chuckles before continuing, “One argument is that only the ones sensitive enough to their bodies and minds have figured out how to utilize the part of their brain that gives them these special abilities.” Pointing around the room, he asks, “What about near-death experiences or ghosts?” He cocks his brow, whispering, “Do you see dead people?”

  The rest of the room bursts into laughter again at Dr. Parsons’ Sixth Sense parody, but a thin sheen of perspiration breaks out at the nape of my neck. This shit is getting way too close to home.

  “Avery touched on my favorite topic of parapsychology, precognition,” Dr. Parsons rubs his hands together excitedly as I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Seeing the future, now that’s my idea of a supernatural power.”

  Riah shrugs her shoulder, “I don’t know, seeing the future seems like it could suck pretty heavily.”

  Welcome to my world. Swallowing hard, I can’t shake the visions in last night’s dream. My ‘abilities’ or ‘gifts’ do suck. I don’t want them. I’ve never wanted them. What in the hell can be good about sensing death, anyway? I realize that seeing the future has its advantages, but every single time I’ve stepped in to try to help or warn someone, it’s never ended well for me. My preventing tragedies from happening has been rewarded with nothing but pain. My palms begin to sweat and it becomes harder for me to breathe as agonizing memories slam into me. Closing my eyes, I desperately try to focus on pushing those memories back to the dark abyss I’ve tried to bury them in.

  A phantom pang slices into my side and I wince, gaining a few glances from the students sitting close to me. My heartbeat accelerates and I swear under my breath, trying to calm myself down before I have a full blown panic attack remembering that horrid night. Jensen’s words echo in my mind and I force myself to concentrate on the techniques he taught me, causing my panic to subside. The pain’s a different story; it only cuts deeper into my soul at how much I miss him despite everything that has happened since the day he sent me away.

  “What about you, Saige?” Dr. Parsons begins, stepping next to my desk. “Do you believe in the paranormal?”

  Swallowing hard, I force a smile while trying to shut down all the memories of when I’ve sensed a death before it’s happened, seen events before they’ve occurred, and of that place where I lived forty-five days in hell. All eyes are on me and I drop my gaze to my desk, mumbling, “I have a pretty open mind.”

  Thankfully, Dr. Parsons moves a few seats up the aisle and I sink against the back of my chair, waiting for the next half hour to hurry up and pass so I can get the hell out of here. As soon as class is over, I shove my notebook in my backpack and practically sprint towards the door, not stopping until I burst through the double doors at the end of the hall and into the sunshine. Turning my face towards the sun, I allow its warmth to soak in, calming me. That’s one of the things I love about California - the sun’s almost always shining.

  I feel the rush of emotions seep inside before I hear the students coming through the door. Luckily, most everyone feels carefree today. Tagging behind a couple holding hands, I enjoy the warm breeze blowing my long, dark hair. The feeling of serenity is rare for me so I bask in it any chance I get. The bell in the tower dings and I turn down the brick path towards my English Lit class when a cold, dark heaviness crashes into me with a force stronger than I’ve ever felt before from someone else’s emotions. The blow feels so real and my knees buckle, slamming onto the hard bricks below. A gasp of pain escapes as I frantically look around the quad, trying to see whose emotions I’m feeling.

  “Are you alright, Saige,” Riah asks, picking up my backpack that slid off my shoulder.

  The darkness is all consuming, spreading through every part of me, as horrifying images accompany the eclipse. My head spins when I realize that I’m feeling the emotions from the man in my premonitions. Oh God…he’s here. Forcing myself to focus, I fight against his emotions as I grab Riah’s wrist, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but don’t go to class tomorrow. You’ll die if you do. Go home, now.”

  Riah jerks her wrist from my grasp, slowly backing away as that all-too-familiar look in her eyes shows me the feelings radiating from her. She thinks I’m nuts, or, like Jake loves to say, a total whack job. Maybe I am, but I’m also right. Dammit! I hate to be right when it comes to this.

  “Please, Riah, just take an early weekend and go visit your parents,” I call to her, scanning every face I can see.

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re on, Saige, but stay away from me,” Riah commands, her fear and uneasiness slowly seeping out of me with every step she takes away from where I am.

  I don’t respond; I’m too busy trying to find the bastard in the crowd as horrific images flash in my mind from the aftermath of whatever he has planned. I don’t have time to think about how I’m seeing the images when I’m not dreaming. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, zeroing in on what I feel so I can push all the other emotions back. I don’t know how I know it’s a man, I’ve never seen his face, but this monster is definitely a man.

  His darkness bleeds my energy, and I shake my head, trying to break his hold. He’s not on the quad but he has to be close
or I wouldn’t be able to feel him. Surveying the buildings closest to me, I decide on checking the Science lab first. My energy being sucked like a leach more each second is a pretty good indicator I’m heading the right direction. The loud squeak of the old door reverberates off the walls of the empty hallway as I step inside. His emotions get stronger and I get weaker. He’s close.

  The doors at the far end of the hall slam shut and I drop my backpack, running as fast as the slick tile will allow without me busting my ass. The sun blinds me as I tumble through the door, but I get a glimpse of him before he rounds the corner and follow him to the apartment building a couple of blocks away from the college. I lean against the alley wall across the street, knowing that I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but I take this chance to catch my breath as I back as far into the alley as possible while still allowing myself to see the door so I can try to gain some of my energy back.

  It’s only a few minutes before I feel him zapping me again, and I slowly breathe in and out, watching him walk down the street. My heart is beating so damn fast, I can feel it pulsating in my throat as I cross the street. The emotions from the tenants bombard me as his darkness fades. I hate apartment buildings, they’re even worse than dorms. I swear, if I had enough money, I would buy a cabin in the woods and feel nothing but my own emotions.

  Reaching C2, I feel his residual energy, a cool trick Jensen taught me, as I stand outside the door. Oh God, what if he has a roommate? Do I knock? Do I just burst in? Besides trying to stifle it, a low groan escapes as I lay my forehead against the cheap wood. What the hell am I even doing here? Placing my hand on the door knob, my fingers are trembling violently, shaming me all to hell. This is a job for the cops, not for some twenty-year-old college kid, but calling the cops is not an option, especially after what happened the last time I called the police without a shred of proof and they treated me like I was insane. Nope, no way am I going through that again.

  Swallowing hard with my resolve, I turn the knob and my heart does the freaking rhumba up my dry throat when the door creaks open. My teeth hurt and my jaw tightens in fear as I slowly slide the door open a fraction more before I take a hesitant step inside. My fraying nerves begin to ease when I see that the room is empty. I just hope the rest of the apartment is, too. So far, nothing looks out of the ordinary for a college kid. The living room is littered with pizza boxes, empty beer bottles, and what looks like a bong laying in the floor next to the couch. My breathing slowly returns to normal as I peek inside the kitchen, quickly backing out with the stench of ripened trash that should’ve been taken out a week ago assaulting my nose.

  I’m getting ready to open the bedroom door when a shot of someone’s anger, and a heavy case of nerves, hits me right before a hand clamps over my mouth and an arm wraps around my waist, pinning me against someone hard and large. Stupidly, I try to scream even though I know it will be muffled.

  “Shut-up,” a gruff voice demands, and I bite his hand in response.

  “Owww, that fuckin’ hurt!” the voice barks as his arm squeezes my body tighter against his.

  I elbow and twist wildly in response, trying to get a better read on his emotions while mine are drowning in fear.

  “Take it easy,” he spits in between a few groans as my elbow makes contact.

  I do the opposite and fight harder, giving all I’ve got. A sharp pain radiates through my right arm as he twists it behind me and pushes it up my back. My cry is stifled by his hand that he’s pressing against my mouth and nose, almost cutting off my air.

  He starts dragging me out the back door and down the stairs, and I kick backwards, hitting his shin. A loud expletive leaves his mouth, and I’m rewarded with another sharp upward thrust of my arm, and I gasp in pain.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he growls, “so stop fighting me!”

  Is he out of his flippin’ mind? I scream bloody murder as I see a dark gray van. My heart is beating so hard it hurts. Using all my strength, I struggle against the creep trying to kidnap me and throw my head back against his nose in a last ditch effort of escape.

  “Sonofabitch!” he yells, but his grip never relents as he pushes me inside the van.

  My body hits the metal floor as the door slams shut. Raw fear spirals through me as I try to squint through the dark. My emotions are heightened, clouding his, and I try to calm my panic. I let out an ear-piercing scream as I lunge for the door, but he blocks my path. Lashing out, I curl my fist and swing as hard as I can. My knuckles explode in pain when they crash into his jaw.

  “Will you stop hitting me?” he yells, grabbing my arms and pushing me into a chair.

  “Let me go!” I scream, kicking savagely.

  “You can scream all you want; the van’s soundproof,” he states, his voice sounding as pissed as he feels. He straddles my lap, and I let out another loud wail. Slapping his hand over my mouth, he grabs duct tape, “On second thought, shut the hell up.” He keeps his left arm pressed roughly against my chest and arms as he holds the duct tape with his right hand, ripping two long pieces off with his teeth.

  My eyes begin to acclimate to the dim lighting in the van and I can make out blue eyes and dark hair. I would think he was attractive if he wasn’t currently taping my wrists to a chair, getting ready to do God knows what to me. “Let me go, please,” I switch tactics.

  “I need a few answers first, then we’ll see,” he states, pulling against the duct tape to make sure it’s secure.

  “Answers?” My question comes out in a rush as I try to keep from hyperventilating when my wrists won’t even budge against my restraints. “I don’t know anything. Just let me go.”

  He steps closer and I push back, causing an ear-splitting screech as the metal of the chair slides against the metal floor of the van. “Don’t touch me, asshole!” I warn, my anger rioting as I feel his burning through me.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he barks, looking like he’s about to bust a vein trying to keep from yelling at me. His eyes darken before he rakes a frustrated hand through his hair and grinds his jaw before speaking to me again, “I’m not the bad guy here.”

  Glancing down at the duct tape currently pinning my wrists to the cold metal, I cut my eyes at him, flashing a sickeningly sweet sarcastic smile, “Oh, okay, I get it…so you’re supposed to be the good and cuddly kind of fucked-up, perverted bastard who likes to tie women to chairs, then.”

  Whatever he’s getting ready to say is cut off when the door opens. The sun blinds me as it pours inside, and I open my mouth to scream but all air flees my lungs when I see him, the one person I ever trusted, ever loved; the one person who ever made me feel safe. For years, Jensen was my air. He was my redemption, my reason to take my next breath…then he was gone. He always told me I was strong, but I didn't believe him until I was forced to be strong on my own, and I kept breathing without him. I've taken forty-two million breaths since the moment he sent me away. Now, four years later, he's standing in front of me, and I can barely breathe. How is it possible that the one whose emotions I can’t feel is the one who makes me feel the most? That night four years ago sears my soul and the pain threatens to destroy me all over again.

  Chapter Two

  Jensen

  “He’s going to act soon. We don’t have time to wait on a team to arrive. Andy and I will handle him,” I tell Darrin, one of the best men I know, aside from Andy, before ending the call. Leaning against the side of the van, I groan. This bastard is good and that is thoroughly pissing me off right now.

  “Jensen, I’ve got one for you,” Andy states, stepping out of the van and slamming the door I opened behind him, “but, I’m warning you, she’s got a mouth on her that rivals mine, man.”

  “She?” Banging my head against the van, I let out another groan, “You took a girl?”

  “Your southern gentleman manners need to stand down on this one. This girl’s got that sweet accent, too, but don’t let that fool you; she’ll shove her fist down your throat while kic
king you hard in the balls. She unleashed some dirty southern charm on me and I had to restrain her.”

  “You tied her up?” Pushing Andy aside, I go to open the door, “Shit, Andy, since when did we start taking girls and tying them up?”

  “Since this girl bit the hell out of me,” Andy grumbles.

  Giving Andy a glare letting him know this discussion is far from over, I slide the door the rest of the way open and freeze. The entire world stops when I see the dark caramel eyes that have haunted me every damn night staring back at me. A thousand thoughts spin through my head, but I can’t seem to form one coherent word as my chest aches from memories. Flashes of the best moments in my life play on fast forward in my mind, right up until the worst night of my existence strikes me like a bolt of lightning. “Saige,” I finally manage to rasp.

  “Holy shit,” Andy lets out a low whistle, “so, she’s the one?”

  Ignoring Andy, I watch the one girl who consumed me, healed me, fuckin’ wrecked me, slowly blink as she looks at me so intently, it feels she’s staring straight into my soul, just like she’s done a million times before. Her eyes are different now…guarded? Sad? Hours or a few seconds pass. I don’t know which, before she releases the lip she’s been absently chewing on and speaks in that soft voice that used to bring me to my knees, “Can you please cut me loose?”

  Shaking through the fog, I glance at her bound wrists. Shit. “Of course,” I blurt, grabbing my knife. As I place my hand on the tape, my fingers brush against her hand and she inhales sharply, looking away. The sorrow in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed, lancing my heart and sending me back to the night I sent her away, the night I felt like I lost my soul. “Hold still, okay?” I say as I slice through her bonds, quickly taking her hands in mine and rubbing her red wrists with my thumbs. “I’m sorry Andy restrained you,” I begin, but my voice trails as I look at her, not knowing what in the hell to say after all this time. She’s beautiful. She’s always been beautiful but, now, she’s…breathtaking.