A Second Sight: Paranormal Romance Page 5

  That infuriated Isabelle, but she never said anything. She would never be the one to bring it up, and Samantha wasn’t the type to spew her feelings. So, Samantha disappeared again. When Alex was well enough, he decided to leave town. Samantha wasn’t in their home when he moved out, but Isabelle knew that brought Samantha some kind of relief.

  And so, Samantha locked herself away for months. Any rumors about her, she would brush off and ignore. She had become so fragile that now she was finding it hard to even clear her name. There were too many stories about that one incident, and she couldn’t go to everyone to ensure they knew the truth about what happened that day. Samantha just wanted to move on and not have to speak to anyone about it ever again.

  That was when the tough side of Isabelle’s sister seemed to fade away. If Isabelle ever reached out, Samantha sounded like she had just been crying or she was about to. They didn’t see each other often, and Isabelle decided the best thing to do was to give her younger sister space, but she never wanted to make it seem as if she was abandoning Samantha in her time of need.

  Then Isabelle met Malcolm. It was almost half a year since Alex left and he had shown up at her office. He was the son of a man with a huge company out west. They were looking for the right company to adequately promote their brand. Isabelle fell for him right away despite herself. He was charming and suave, and she had to admit that scared her. She wasn’t sure what lay below the surface. So, they took their time. They were still taking things slow.

  When Isabelle finally got through to Samantha, she and Malcolm had been dating for several weeks. He took the phone from Isabelle, and in his sweetest voice asked if she cared to join them. That was another thing that terrified Isabelle that she didn’t care to admit to herself. What if Malcolm, just like Alex, would fall for her sister?

  The last thing she wanted to do was be selfish. When Alex fell for Samantha, it was because he wanted to manipulate her. This was different. Wasn’t it?

  But Malcolm and Samantha had gotten along well enough. There was no hint of any emotional connection beyond what was normal. But sometimes if Malcolm and Samantha were speaking alone, Isabelle’s heart would get caught up in her throat, and the mountain of her insecurities would collapse all around her.

  That was beginning to fade away slowly. She and Malcolm hadn’t been intimate, but he seemed much more interested in the other parts of Isabelle’s soul. He didn’t think about the fact that they had been dating for half a year without a sexual experience.

  “There are other ways to be intimate,” he told her. And then, he showed her. He would hold her hand, and look deep into her grey green eyes. He ran his fingers through her hair, and he would kiss any part of her body she would allow. He would embrace her when they were lying in the park together, or kiss her beneath the waves when he took her out for a swim. He cooked for her and shared his poetry with her, and he let her braid his hair, even if it wasn’t quite long enough for it to be braided. He laughed with her, and the way their laughter blended together was like a song. It was better than any sexual experience she could ever have had.

  That terrified her all the more. What if this was love? What if he was everything she had ever wanted in another person? How was that thought almost as frightening if he wasn’t the one for her at all?

  Isabelle couldn’t get over just how perfect he was for her. They were so evenly matched and in sync that it was hard for her to tell where her heart ended and his heart began. They had never even fought. It was like he could read her deepest thoughts and knew her truest desires. But it was all so simple. Caring for him was easy, and she wanted it to be this easy for as long as possible. That was possible, right? Whoever said there was no such thing as perfect had never met a person who fit so well with them as Malcolm did with her.

  “Where are we going, Malcolm?” she asked. She sounded as if she had just woken up. Her voice was raspy and soft. She wasn’t going to give into what ifs. She could focus on the here and the now. Right now, everything was as it needed to be, and she couldn’t ask for anything more.

  “I wanted to go by the beach. It’s a rest day, so I don’t think many people will be out by the sea.”

  “You really love to swim, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he turned his head just a bit so he could smile at her. He kept his eyes on the road, but his smile was still genuine. “I’ve always felt like I had a connection with the water, like there’s something there I’m supposed to find.”

  “What is it you’re trying to find?” asked Isabelle.

  “I’m not sure,” Malcolm said.

  “Do you think you’ll know when you find it?”

  “I hope so,” Malcolm said.

  Isabelle could smell the sea. She wasn’t familiar with the beach they were going to, but she was excited to see what this day had in store.

  She put one of her hands out of the window and felt the wind. She let her fingers move up and down like a wave; her hand was undulating against the wind blowing by the car. She kept her eyes closed for the rest of the journey. She didn’t realize she had dozed off until she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. When she woke up, they were parked on a black pebble beach. The water was calm. The tide rolled in so gently that it only made Isabelle want to sleep longer. When she got out of the car, she noticed there were folding chairs and a small parasol waiting for them underneath a giant tree on the beach. It was beautiful and strange to see a tree growing so close to the waters of the beach. Isabelle wondered how she had lived close to this area for most of her life and had never thought to stop in a place like this.

  She took Malcolm’s arm, and they walked toward the base of the tree. She could see no other life for miles. There were no cars on the roads for as far as she could see or hear.

  “How did you even find this place?” Isabelle asked when they were both sitting in the chairs.

  “I happened upon it on one of my many hikes and adventures. I knew it might have been easier to teleport here, but since you didn’t know where we were going, I didn’t want your thoughts to overpower mine. Getting stuck in limbo is the last thing I’d want on a date.”

  “Really?” Isabelle giggled, “You wouldn’t want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with me?”

  “I thought that was exactly what we were doing,” Malcolm said with a sexy grin. He kissed the knuckles of Isabelle’s hands, and she leaned over to him so that she could feel his lips against hers.

  “Would you like to swim?” Malcolm asked when he pulled away. Isabelle paused for a moment and peered into Malcolm’s deep grey eyes. She didn’t want to look away. She wasn’t entirely sure about what was going to happen with them next, but she knew she was sure in that moment.

  “Later. There’s something I’d like to do first,” Isabelle said. She rose from her chair and walked back over to Malcolm’s car. She grabbed the large blue blanket out from the back seat and brought it to where they were seated. She unfolded it [which took some doing] and then dived onto it. It felt like home with how warm and soft it was.

  She shot Malcolm a seductive glance and beckoned for him to come and join her on the blanket. Malcolm stood from his chair and then sat beside her. Isabelle’s arms found their way around Malcolm’s broad shoulders, and she pulled him close to her. She loved the way his body felt as it pressed up against hers. She kissed him again, and this time she didn’t want to come for air.

  She was ready for him, and she wanted to be sure he was ready for her. They were alone, she was sure of it. She may have been half human, but there was something about a fairy’s perception when it came to things like that.

  There was a gentle tug on the shirt Malcolm wore. He pulled away from her and studied her face. He cradled her chin with one hand and caressed her cheek with his fingers.

  “Isabelle, are you sure about this?”

  She nodded her head and kissed the palm of his hand.

  “I’m sure. I want this. I want you,” Isabelle said. She tugged at his shirt and helped
him to pull it up and over his head. She traced a finger from his collar bone, down the middle of his torso, and over his perfect abs. He had a thin trail of blonde hair that started from the edge of his navel. It traveled south and disappeared under the shorts he still wore.

  Isabelle wasn’t the type to take control in these situations. She needed for him to want this as much as she wanted it.

  Just then, Malcolm scooped Isabelle up in his arms and brought her to his lap. She wrapped her legs around him, and she could feel how much he was attracted to her. She rocked her hips back and forth on him slowly, getting more and more aroused by the way he felt under her. But she wanted to feel more. She wanted him to make love to her in a way that surpassed any one she had ever been with.

  Malcolm’s hands danced all over her body as they shared another long and passionate kiss. His fingertips moved from her thighs and up her body. He made sure to have his fingers underneath the blouse she wore. He ran his fingers higher and higher over her body, only pausing to pull away from their kiss in order to remove it. Taking off her blouse caused the small ribbon in her hair to come loose. The top half of her hair cascaded down around her face and her shoulders. The bright red was brilliant on her peach-colored skin.

  He pushed her hair out of her eyes, and she smiled down at him.

  “You’re perfect, Isabelle,” Malcolm whispered. He leaned forward and their lips met again. He continued his forward lean until Isabelle was lying on her back on the plush blue blanket. He removed her shorts and her undergarments and did the same for himself. Her naked body felt warm against his, but he still shivered. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her in any way.

  “I need to know, Malcolm,” Isabelle said. Her expression was serious now. She brought him closer to her and wrapped her arms under his and held onto his shoulders from behind. She opened her legs for him, inviting him in, allowing herself to be vulnerable for the first time in so long.

  “I need to know if you want this too.”

  As gently and as slowly as he could, Malcolm slipped himself inside her. Isabelle let out a soft moan of ecstasy in reply.

  “I want you, Isabelle,” Malcolm whispered. He thrust himself deeper and then pulled away for a moment before giving another gentle thrust. She was so wet with longing, and his slow and steady strokes were more than she could stand.

  Isabelle’s head rolled back, and she allowed herself to let go. She completely gave into him. This was all she wanted. She wanted to be wanted by him. She wanted to feel safe, she wanted to feel…

  She moaned then. There was a familiar sensation building up inside of her. Malcolm had found her sweet spot, and his thrusts were becoming harder and deeper. He could feel her getting more and more wet with each stroke.

  Isabelle could hear Malcolm’s heavy breath in her ear. He was so powerful yet so gentle with her. This wasn’t just sex; they were making love.

  “Malcolm,” Isabelle whimpered. She couldn’t contain herself for much longer. She could feel the gentle early waves of an orgasm inside her.

  “Malcolm, I love you.”

  Chapter Four

  Imagine

  I never knew my anxiety was as bad as it was until my father called. We hadn’t spoken too often in the last year, and I was sure I had only seen him about once since I had left the hospital. He was definitely like me. He was staying away until he got the go ahead. The last thing he wanted to do was to smother me, just in case I was the type to run away. I always thought I was the running type, but it turned out I was more the type to hide away.

  But I couldn’t hide from my family for long, and I know I didn’t want to. I just wasn’t sure how to face them after what happened with my ex. With my ex who was also Isabelle’s ex. I would feel guilty about that for the rest of my life, I was sure of that, but I had never explained myself to my parents. I was hoping I would never have to, but that wasn’t healthy.

  I was torn between telling them when next I saw them or just waiting for them to bring it up. I didn’t want to be backed in a corner. They had forgiven me for whatever it was they must have thought I could have done wrong. I was their daughter.

  What I wasn’t expecting was for my father to invite me over for lunch one day. My mother was visiting a friend in the town that was on the other side of our giant lake, and I guess Dad was feeling lonely. Isabelle visited them often, but I was their youngest and hadn’t been by in a long time. The memory they have of me was of a different person. I was more obnoxious and self-absorbed then. I wondered if my father would like me now that I paid attention to the things I said.

  “There’s my girl!”

  I hadn’t been expecting such a reaction. My father was smiling as if he had just won a major award. He hugged me and patted me on the back so many times that I thought he was trying to burp me.

  “Oh, Samantha, you look beautiful.”

  He sounded like he meant it too. I never wanted the hug to end. There was nothing like a hug from your father to make you wonder what on earth was keeping you away from him for so long.

  “Hi, Daddy,” I said. The hug ended after what could have been years. When I pulled away, I could see that my father’s eyes were glistening. Was he teary-eyed because of me? I didn’t ask him. If I could avoid any emotional talks with my father today, then that was what I was going to do.

  He led me into the house as if it was somewhere new, as if I didn’t grow up in that very house. There were a few changes. Mom had added a bay window to the front to give the family room a cozier feel. I liked it. I could see myself reading in the nook when it got to wintertime. Maybe I would visit my family more often without worrying too much about the fact that I must have disappointed them.

  “What’s on your mind?” my dad asked. It wasn’t one of those topic starter questions; my father was looking at me with genuine concern. He looked so much older to me now. His hair, usually a dull brown, was now a salt and pepper. The brown was faded a bit and the silver streaks in his hair looked foreign to me. His eyes were still the same as mine and Isabelle’s, a bright grey green. He was getting a bit more round in the belly, and either I had grown or he had shrunk because I noticed that I could look him right in the eyes.

  My father was handsome for a human. Even with the extra weight and the greying hair, there was an allure about him. He had a smile like someone who had a secret to share, but he would never tell no matter how much you begged him to. He smiled a lot, and he had laugh lines in his cheeks. But he was also so human. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. He allowed himself to feel his sadness, his anger, and his anguish. That was one way I was like him. I couldn’t be like Mom or Isabelle. I couldn’t hide behind a smile forever. No matter how much I wanted to be more calm and innocent, I felt things the way that a human felt things.

  That could also be why my sister was more in tune with her elf powers. She could heighten her senses at a moment’s notice. She could see or hear for miles, teleport over short distances, and had the power to heal wounds and a heightened sense of empathy. She was someone who was able to help anyone feeling emotional distress. I had a few of those same gifts including some minor telekinetic powers, but I never explored them more than I needed to. I never developed the ability to teleport, even though it would have been very convenient on the day I could have drowned in a lake with my awful ex-boyfriend. The idea of teleportation always frightened, but it also intrigued me. I asked my sister about it often, but much like my slight telekinesis, Isabelle used her teleportation abilities very rarely.

  All fairy powers fascinated me. There were different groups of fairies, and if your blood was mixed like ours was, we had a tendency to have our powers watered down. There were some fairies that could communicate with you through dreams, and there were even those with the ability to possess others and control their minds and their bodies.

  I could heal minor cuts and bruises, but I wasn’t quite as skilled as my sister. She could cure illnesses and with a smile and some words, could emotionall
y manipulate someone into a calmer state. That wasn’t just a gift because of how kind she was. It was an factual superpower that ran through her blood. I wondered why I didn’t have the ability to heal anyone who was sad or upset, but not all powers come to all fairies. Neither of us could fly, I couldn’t teleport anywhere, and my sister didn’t have any telekinetic power. And, as far as I knew, those strange visions and dizzy spells were something only I was experiencing.

  But what were they? And why were they happening to me now? I had no way of knowing when they were coming or what they represented. If I had a vision of those people in the park and then I saw them a few weeks later, would it therefore mean that all vision-to-reality windows happened in a span of a few weeks’ time? I had so many questions to ask and no one to ask them to. So, I decided that mending the relationship with my family was what I was going to tackle in this span of time. Whatever happened beyond this moment, I would figure it out… eventually.

  “A lot and a lot of nothing, dad,” I said. He nodded. He knew me well enough to know that was all I would say about it for now. If I wanted to explain, I would, in due time and in my own way.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t come with that sister of yours. You guys used to do everything together.” He fell back into his favorite armchair with a groan of satisfaction. He rubbed the arms of the seat which were now almost totally faded because of this habit. The living room looked just how I remembered it—a low ceiling and tan-colored walls with a brick fireplace, which was more for decoration than anything else, and furniture that was either a dark green or a dull brown.