Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel by Gwen Mitchell Page A

my eyes and took a deep breath of it. “So many new things. They’re the supernatural senses you were talking about, right?”
    He swallowed. “What do you sense?”
    “You.” I kept my eyes closed and swirled the feeling of him around in my mind. I wanted to coat myself in it, wrap it around me like a thick blanket of butterscotch.
    “What about me?” he asked, voice gone husky. He turned around slowly, his breath warm on my forehead.
    “I can smell you, taste you,” I said, too intoxicated by it to be shy. My skin was warming just being so close to his body, and I was acutely aware of the fact that minus two pieces of flimsy cotton, I would be naked in front of him. I recognized the heady feeling swamping my system. I’d felt it before, when Cody had bitten me.
    “That’s normal,” Julian whispered. I felt his voice like drops of warm oil down my back.
    I swayed on my feet and opened my eyes to find Julian staring down at me, his lips half parted, eyes darkened with a wild heat. The dangerous kind of heat, the kind that I could never resist.
    Oh boy .
    “What do I taste like?” My question came out a breathy whisper.
    One side of his wide, luscious mouth curled. “Like ripe berries. And rain.”
    I reached through the purple energy haze between us and placed one palm on his chest, leaning forward slightly. His gaze fastened on my lips.
    I gave him a sultry smile. “And what color am I?”
    He blinked, confusion plain on his face. “Color?”
    “You were golden, and now you’re purple.” I glanced up and down his body — openly admiring it for the first time. He had a build that promised power and strength without being overly bulky, and he looked like he knew how to use it.

    Who was I kidding? Julian was big trouble.
    “I don’t see any color.” He stepped back, shaking his head. “You’re seeing auras. That’s a psychic gift, not an Undead sense.”
    Well, shit.
    Julian’s aura shifted to a dark steely grey, swirled with stripes of white. Was that fear? Anxiety? He probably didn’t have a book to help me figure that out. It didn’t matter — I’d just reminded him I was the same as his enemies. Nothing like that little tidbit to kill the mood. His exotic fragrance faded too, though a bittersweet aftertaste lingered in the air.
    I sighed, my shoulders slumping, and searched for an internal button to turn my “psychic gift” off again.
    Julian wouldn’t look at me. He stood a few feet away, sifting through a stack of mail on the counter, effectively shutting me out. I suddenly felt like a much bigger imposition.
    Unwelcome everywhere, safe nowhere . That was my new mantra.
    I cleared my throat. “So, what do we do now?”
    “You probably want a shower and some clothes. The sun will be up in a couple of hours. Undead are naturally nocturnal, so I’m sure you’ll need some rest.”
    Yeah, right, like I was going to be able to sleep knowing a band of psychics bent on my destruction were out there searching for me. Not to mention the whispering voices waiting in my dreams. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself. “I meant what are you going to do with me? Am I your house frau now?”
    I hated how weak that sounded. Normally, I was a go-to girl. I took care of myself. Even if that meant I got in a jam, I always figured my way out. But now I was a nobody in a new game where all the rules had changed. Despite my instincts to the contrary, I had to count on Julian to call the shots until I found my footing, and trust him not to misguide me or let me down. I should have known better to rely on any man that hit my buttons the way he did, but what choice did I have?
    He sighed. “I have to make some calls, inform my superiors of the situation. They’ll want me to bring you in tomorrow.” He ran his hands over his face — his first show of tiredness since I’d met him. I would have to try harder not to wear out my welcome.
    “And, what if…” I stopped, afraid to ask the