THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

It had black eyes! Round, shiny, very intelligent black eyes. Emma stared at it for fully two minutes. That wasn’t normal, she was certain. Very slowly, so she wouldn’t startle the creature, she backed across the room to her bookshelf. Still looking at the bird, she slid her fingers over the animal books which she had gotten acquainted with yesterday, until she found the one she wanted.

It slipped off the shelf into her waiting hand, the pages already turning to the very entry her mind was seeking. Strangely, the bird was observing her just as intently, an intelligence in its gaze as it watched the pages of the book open without her hand. She brought the book in front of her and glanced down to look at the photograph of the harpy eagle. The eyes were round and shining with intelligence, but they were not black. The eyes in the picture were a bright amber with a black pupil. She let out her breath slowly. Something was wrong with her bird.

You aren’t blind, though, are you? She sent the words, not even knowing if it would work; It was watching her too closely to be blind.

It stirred then, almost in triumph. Emma’s heart jumped in response. For one moment she felt threatened in some undefined way. She thought she caught a fleeting expression in the eagle’s eyes and then it hopped back onto the windowsill and launched itself skyward. For such a large bird, it amazed her how perfectly silent it was. It circled for a moment, climbing higher and higher until it was a mere speck. She watched it until it was gone.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Emma felt inexplicably lonely as she climbed back into her bed. Her fingers plucked at the quilt, seeking comfort. The book lay on the bed beside her. She tapped on the cover with her fingers before placing it on the bed stand with her history book. She would read the latter later. Telekinesis was a very handy talent. She thought, remembering the events of the cafe. She shouldn’t berate herself or the gods for the gift. She would be thankful rather.

Perhaps, she could use it to solve mysteries and know more about herself, and what about her made the witches interested in her. Perhaps, she could read Margo’s mind, or Derek.

No, not good. She muttered. That would be intruding in people’s privacy. They wouldn’t find it funny, if they found out in the long run. But she needed to know.

And what about Zipfara? She hadn’t seen the queen of the witches ever since that night. Has the latter forgotten her already? She had promised answers; so, where was she?

“I’m really different…” She mumbled. She was “different” and people didn’t tolerate differences very well. She stared at the open window sadly.

“I am so alone.” She sent the heartfelt cry winging into the night, missing her sister so much, all of a sudden. She wondered if Derek would treat her any differently if he found out.

She had other things to do. She thought. She hadn’t prepared for the quiz yet. But that could wait for some minutes. She didn’t even feel like reading again. She wanted to see the bird again, even though it wouldn’t be able to talk, it could at least wait till she had vented all her emotions out, a bit surprised that the bird had gotten an iota of love from her.

She sighed and turned her face into the pillow. It would have been nice to have someone to talk with. To be herself with. Just once.

Querida, why are you so sad this night? The voice was heavily accented, musical, a whisper of enticement. She heard it as clearly as if the words were spoken aloud.

Emma stiffened, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She opened her eyes, searching the shadows of her room. It appeared empty at first, but then she felt a hand brush a lingering caress over her face, the fingertips trailing over her skin as it removed silken strands of red hair from her forehead. She sat up, pushing at the shadowy figure bending over her. The broad chest was real and very solid. How could she have missed his presence?

But this wasn’t Derek.

“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?” She hissed the words very quietly, afraid if Derek heard it, he would rush in like a wild dog. The room was so dark, that she couldn’t even see the person.

“You called me to you.” Aiden said.

Deliberately, he used the more intimate method of telepathic communication, determined to strengthen their bond.

“I heard your call. Felt your tears. Why are you so sad this night?”

He was too real and solid in the confines of the small bedroom. His masculine scent clung to the corners, his voice brushed over her skin, at her insides like black velvet. It wasn’t just his words, it was literally the sound of his voice. A seduction, an intimacy stolen in the night. He washed over her and into her so that she was at a loss. No one had ever made her feel so aware of her body, so feminine, or so blatantly sexual. Not even Derek.

“No!!” She screamed in her mind. The professor was a master of compulsion. He was enticing her.

She blinked to keep him in focus. He seemed substantial to the touch, yet in the dark room, his shadowy figure blurred as if he was a part of the night itself. Not real. Emma had the good sense to be afraid. It was so dreamlike she dug her nails into her palm to ensure she was awake.

“How did you get in here?” The moment she spoke aloud, she wished she hadn’t. Her voice was husky, sexy, not entirely hers. An invitation. Her heart thundered out a fast rhythm. The heat of his body crowding so close to hers warmed her skin despite the coolness of the wind. She should have been furious; instead, she was mesmerized by him, by his overpowering sexuality.

She felt herself falling backward, her eyes closing then, drooping shut on their own accord. But before her eyes willed shut, she felt him drop a kiss on her cheek, saw the blackness of his eyes, knowing that he was the big bird which had visited her earlier, wondering what exactly her history professor was and why he was in some way, interested in her.