average human’s Reviews > Visions > Status Update

Their history is that they were born of beast and took the form of a man, keeping all the fun parts of a beast, like a knot. One I don’t feel.
Mark’s eyes light up with a spark of interest before they dart behind me to Greyson, looking for permission.
I tsk under my breath. “Mark, stop teasing me. There is no knot here.” I squeeze once more before letting him go. “Guess it just isn’t meant to be,” I singsong before releasing a dramatic, defeated sigh and turning to face a chuckling Daisy.
Besides, I’m a mortal with a few spare gifts. We don’t get a fated mate.
“Hungry?” She pushes a strawberry milkshake and a bleeding burger before me. “The blood of your enemies and their beasts for your meal, milady.” She winks before heading back to the kitchen.
My stomach growls in anticipation.
“I feel violated.” Mark slips onto his stool, slouching over the countertop.
“She didn’t violate you, you asked her if she wanted your knot.” Greyson pushes the menu away, his icy blue eyes taking me in as I gaze longingly at my burger.
“She grabbed my dick.” Mark rests his chin on the counter before rolling it toward me. His big brown eyes stare up at me like the puppy dog he is.
I reach out and pat his head. “There, there.”
“I think that burger is far too big for you,” Greyson teases, but it falls on deaf ears.
He and I both know I’m about to make this burger my bitch. “I didn’t even know what I wanted.”
“That’s Daisy’s power.”
“Superpower,” I correct, giving him the side-eye. “How was work?” Sometimes, I have to remind myself that normal people talk about their day. They ask each other how it went and engage in conversation. I’m proud of myself for remembering.
Greyson swivels toward me on his stool, his knees just grazing my skirt. Wearing jeans with too many holes and a shirt well past its prime, he’s still sexier than I will ever give him credit for.
He’s also smart, which means he knows exactly what I think of him.
Plus, there’s Mark, who leans in over my shoulder to take in Greyson and me eye sexing each other up with our gazes. With a resigned sigh and a drumming of his fingertips that suspiciously dance toward my fries, he speaks, “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” He inhales long and slow, no doubt smelling my arousal for Greyson.
“Did you want a fry, Mark?” I grab one and shove it into his mouth.
Not because I don’t want him mentioning to Greyson that I’m attracted to him—we are way too far past keeping that a secret—but I know he can smell the age of that arousal, which means I’d have to explain Pim.
How does one explain a dead guy? Yeah, it will not happen. My luck turns in my favor as Mark grabs a fry before flagging Daisy down for his own order.
One which I’m sure will be a bloody steak.
“No fires,” Greyson finally answers with a teasing dip of his lips before snatching one of my fries with far too much confidence. He’s lucky I don’t take a bite out of his fingers.
“Then it’s a good day,” I chirp, raising my milkshake between us for a salute. He mocks a glass that clinks with mine, minus the clink.
I sip the strawberry ice cream, letting the flavors burst on my tongue with a delicious chill. Embracing the brain freeze, I dig into my burger, allowing the quiet chatter of the diner to surround me.

8%

The guys place their orders. Children laugh, and their parents enjoy a night where they don’t have to cook. Daisy rushes around, all while flirting shamelessly with Mark. It’s the perfect moment to end a day outside the barriers of Eternal Hollows. The visions came slower today, though I can feel them simmering in the back of my head. Each one held a strange haze of smoke over them just like the hot Arizona sun.
The juice of my burger drips over my hand, the blood making a slow trail over my knuckles before spattering onto the white porcelain plate.
Something at the back of my mind stretches at the sight, yawning from a deep slumber. My chews slow, and I swallow though the meat tries to lodge in the back of my throat. Reaching for my shake, I take a long pull, nudging the meat along.
Still, that something wakes with the speed of a sunning snake, uncoiling with ethereal grace, prodding me with its awareness. All around me, the diner rushes on, oblivious to my internal struggle. Even if they knew, what would I tell them?
I cannot put into words what rises within me. Only that it exists. The visions press at the back of my head, but this…this stretches and pulls at the muscles of my stomach.
Panic flares to life inside me, creating an adrenaline surge that saturates the taste of the burger lingering in my mouth. I shove it down far enough so as not to alert Mark. He will scent my moods wafting off of me if I cannot control them, so I do with a delicate thread of willpower.
I feel a presence prowl toward my mind. Behind my heart, it shifts and strains. My eyes dart to the kitchen, to Greyson, to Mark, who laugh and mingle as they wait for their food.
I raise a hand to flag down Daisy as my head swims with vertigo.
“Sup, bitch?”
“Box?” There, I said it without raising her suspicions.
Everything is fine.
“Sure thing.” She reaches under the counter for the white Styrofoam I know rests there. I focus on each of her movements as I try to fight past the pressure rising within me.
I left town today. I allowed the visions to come. So what the hell is this?
“So, about later?” Daisy pushes my boxed burger across with my milkshake in a foam cup.
Later? Oh, right… “The early bird gets the worm. But the night owl gets the mouse.” It made sense in my head.
“Fine.” She pouts, understanding my brand of weird, and doesn’t push. “I’ll hold you to tomorrow night. Now off you go.”
I grip that container for all it’s worth and spin slowly on my stool.
Except once I stop, the world continues whirling as that something in the depths of my soul grows. I grind my teeth, refusing to vomit. I hate puking, and I will do everything in my power to keep it from happening, which means swallowing repeatedly until the feeling goes away.
The bells over the door chime. My body moves in slow motion as I try to look at who walked in, attempting to act normal. But I can’t. My eyes begin to water and droplets spill from the corners.
“Nes?” comes a distant voice, a familiar, comforting voice.
I try to focus on it and open my mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a whimper as something beats an incessant rhythm in the back of my head.
“Nes!” My food and shake disappear, then strong arms lift me up and take me outside into the chilling night air.
I can only concentrate on swallowing and keeping everything down as someone guides me to my car. The squeal of the hinges breaks through the fog in my head, and the broken-in leather seat hugs my body like a lover.
“Nes, I need you to focus on me,” the voice commands, begging me to concentrate.
Blinking against the pain and the fog, I meet coal dark eyes set in a handsome aged face.
“There you are,” Tate says, concern etched across his features. The lines around his eyes deepen, and I take a solid moment to realize he is checking my pulse. “Good girl, I just need you to breathe.”
“What the hell, man?” Mark stumbles out of the diner with Greyson hot on his heels.
Tate ignores them both, keeping his focus on me and, in turn, holding my attention. His short dark hair sits in a disheveled mess on top of his head. It’s the same color that lines his cheeks and jaw. My eyes trace to his brows, where a long scar bisects one only to dip onto the cheek below.
“Even slower now. Very good. Just focus on me and not the goons behind you.” His calming voice wraps around me, grounding me. Tate has that effect. A shifter of unknown origin, he’s always held the ability to ground me. Well, I assume he is a shifter. He can always scent danger a mile away. He leads both the fire department and the paramedics, nature built him for the job. Rumor has it he’s been around this town since its inception.
I believe it.
“Vanessa, what happened?” Greyson’s concerned face leans over Tate, his eyes tracking across my body as though he can find a wound.
He won’t. He can’t. He is merely a mortal living in a dangerous world. But even more so, he cannot find a wound that lives in my soul.
“Fuck off, Greyson.” Tate’s eyes never leave mine, full of that familiar, homey warmth that makes me uncomfortable.
Tate isn’t family, he’s just the resident father of Eternal Hollows.
“I’m okay.” Except the wobble in my voice gives me away, so I try again. “I’ve been in the desert all day playing games, I’m probably just dehydrated.”
Not a single one of the men before me buys into my obvious lie.
“Bullshit,” Mark growls, his nostrils flaring as he scents the air. “You smell of residual fear. How did I not scent that inside?”
“Because you are a pup playing in an adult’s world.” Tate’s gruff voice doesn’t allow for any argument from him or anyone else, and a small part of me is thankful for it, because my pseudo father can’t enter Eternal Hollows, what with being dead and all.
“Let me take you home.” Greyson’s hand rests on the car door where his fingers grasp the metal in a white-knuckled grip.
But I can’t. I won’t let them or the townsfolk see me as weak, even if Tate carried me out here. I need to get myself to safety. “Tate, did you grab my milkshake?”
“Sure did.” He holds it just out of reach. “I want to see full sips before I let you go.”
“This is ridiculous, I can just run her home. It’s literally right down the street, not even a mile away.” Greyson’s eyes darken.
I can’t give him this, because I don’t know what just happened, and I need a moment to process my thoughts. If I give in, then I could potentially lose so much more.
“Vanessa, don’t be stubborn,” he argues, his eyes pleading, his concerned tone stretching out to caress me.
“How about this,” Tate begins with his mediator voice, his hand slashing through the air. “Stand up, walk around, and show me you are okay. Do that, and these are yours.” He holds up my keys.
“Thief,” I grumble, though I’m not at all mad, and I push off the seat to stand. My stomach rolls with nausea. “I can appreciate a good thief.” I walk around Tate with methodical steps and into his broad shadow. Built like a mountain, he stands sturdy and strong, nearing seven feet tall. Much like his personality. Yet as I stand in his shadow where no one can see, I graze his pocket and pull out his wallet. “See? Okay.”
Tate runs a thumb across his bottom lip, not buying it but knowing I won’t give in either. “Greyson is right—you are stubborn.”
“We know this.”
“I’m not sure you should drive home.” Turmoil flickers across Tate’s face, and I know he only sees me as a mortal playing in this world. Just like him.
With a flourish of my fingers, I reveal my sleight of hand. “Trade me.” His leather wallet glimmers in the fading light of day.
“How the hell…”
Mark chuckles like a lunatic. “She’s fine.”
“Beautifully psychotic,” Greyson compliments.
At least I’m taking that as a compliment.
“Fine.” He snatches his wallet and drops my keys into my waiting hands. “But I want you to check in with Doc tomorrow.”
“She’s better off driving to Sedona.” Mark leans against Bruce, placing one lazy leg over the other, a toothpick stuck between his lips. “Doc is an aged mechanic who thinks people are like cars.”
“I’ll drive her,” Greyson volunteers, cutting off any talk about me hunting down the town doctor or an actual doctor. Neither of which I would go to anyway.
I can tell Tate wants to say something, so instead, I prove I’m perfectly capable by walking past Mark and swiping his legs out from under him. He drops to the ground, not gracefully like a shifter, and sputters while his toothpick flies from his mouth. I raise a brow in challenge to Greyson.
“Now, gentlemen, I have had quite the day.” I force a yawn, though the sun is only just setting. “One that calls for an early night.” I snatch up my food and drink before climbing into my car and letting the engine purr.
Tate stands on the sidewalk with pride in his eyes, while Mark mopes because I got the better of him once more. And Greyson… I try not to read too much into the hurt on his face. He just doesn’t understand.
Besides, I only have half a mile to drive. Bruce backs out with ease, the rumble of the engine echoing off the low-lying buildings. Within seconds, I’m pulling into my designated spot.
The stone walls of my little apartment sit like a beacon in the dark night. The car door squeaks as I climb out, and I know if I look back, I’ll still see the three of them standing in front of the diner. Instead, I slide the key into the lock on my humble abode and enter the cool dwelling.
Once the eyes of the town slide off of me, trepidation takes over. I can no longer run from my past. Another power is waking inside of me—unless I’m crazy, which is always an option.
I just need to sleep it off.
It’s the lie I tell myself, even as my stomach churns with the residual aftershocks. I push through the door and into the studio apartment, flicking the lock before stumbling to the fridge and storing my leftovers.
I tumble face first onto my futon, and I can’t help but wonder if this is the beginning or end of my story.