Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel by Gwen Mitchell

you to get used to it?” I examined the tidy, settled room, wondering how long he had lived there. Had he ever cooked food on the stove, or had pizza delivered? Did Julian bring dates here? Or just rescued strays?
    “It was different for me.” He lifted the lid of the blood-warming contraption. “I had a Sponsor. I knew what I was getting myself into.”
    “I can’t see how someone would choose this.” I stared down at the sparkling tile counter. I could see how most accidental turns went crazy, especially with the surprise!-you’re-dead factor. But I couldn’t ignore that a part of me had always known something was missing from my life, just beyond my understanding. Was it actually my psychic ability I had felt? Now I was pretty certain I wished I knew nothing about any of it.
    Julian pursed his lips together as he emptied the bottle into two mugs. He set one of them in front of me before drinking from the other. “It does have its upside.”
    “Like?” I raised my eyebrows. Color me pessimistic, but I’d run in to nothing but trouble since Cody had bitten me. Except for Julian. The jury was still out on just how much trouble he would turn out to be.
    “You felt it.” His dark gaze bored into me, causing a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the steaming cup in front of me.
    I shifted in my seat.
    “Supernaturally enhanced senses. Speed. Strength. Agility. Not to mention the closest thing to immortality that exists.” He stared into his cup for a few seconds before taking another drink.
    Would that be enough for some people? I had felt it, and it was wondrous. But I was dead, and that complicated the plans I’d had for my life. Someone would have to be pretty unhappy to give it all up — even for some neat tricks like holding your breath forever. That feeling of walking on air had been glorious, but it had faded. I could still sense it on the fringe of my mind, like all I had to do was figure out how to tap into it, but I was too afraid to try. I furrowed my brows.
    “You’re new, Alex.” Julian drained the contents of his mug and rinsed it. “It takes time. But you need your strength.”
    He pushed my mug closer. The smell snaked up to my nostrils, and my mouth watered. A strange burning sensation tickled my gums. A brush of my tongue alerted me to an extra set of canines directly behind the ones I’d had all my life. Sharp ones, I realized, when I nicked myself. The sweet tang of blood filled my palette. My stomach growled. I tilted the cup and looked into it. In the dim light of Julian’s kitchen, it looked almost black. I could almost imagine it was coffee.
    I licked my lips, conscious of Julian watching me. I held my breath, thinking screw it . I’d already drunk blood with tomato juice, right? I closed my eyes and threw it back, swallowing in three big gulps. The blood felt thick coating my throat. The heat hit my stomach and spread, and I shuddered at the buzzing feeling it sent racing through my body. He was right. I felt stronger almost instantly — more alert, more energized. I opened my eyes and looked at Julian’s outline in front of me, again tinged with the golden halo I’d seen before.
    “Is this what you see?” I slid off of the stool and stepped around the counter to face him, to take in the full glory of his figure and the energy emanating from him.
    “What?” A thread of apprehension entered his voice as I stalked towards him.
    “This.” I ran my hands along the outline of his shoulder and arm, slipping just over the surface of the shiny coating.
    He took in a sharp breath, and a shiver ran down his body.
    I cocked one eyebrow and stroked the light again, across his chest, just shy of actual contact.
    As my hands skimmed over Julian, the yellow faded to a deep purple. He closed his eyes and held perfectly still as I slowly circled, trailing my fingers through the edge of his essence, or whatever it was. A familiar taste spiked the air, like honeyed whiskey. I closed