But if I went with Merlin . . . I’d have a third possibility: a second chance at life. And if I was honest, I would relish the chance to rub it in Roger’s face. Show him he was a fool to have walked away from me when I’d needed him most. I could take my bakery back from stupid Colleen and her crappy, ripped-off recipes.
I clutched at Merlin’s arms and slowly nodded.
“Yes. I want that. Make me special.”
CHAPTER 4
Merlin shifted me into his arms, and I fell asleep as if he’d put a spell on me. Which, looking back, I’m sure was the case. My dreams were of the world I’d left and all the things I’d seen; like viewing a history show locked on every channel I’d ever watched, I couldn’t get away from it.
First was the outing of the supernatural community, right around the time I was born. The various world governments had botched things trying to keep the Super Dupers out of their countries, yet it was impossible because there were so many of them, and they were everywhere. Every community, every family—there was nowhere that supernaturals weren’t. So many stayed hidden, afraid of what was happening. Worse were those who’d come out and tried to take over because they were stronger than the humans. I saw again the way the world had sat on the edge of war for years, riots and rallies on both sides.
Finally treaties were put together, a judicial and penal system that would apply specifically to supernaturals. The Super Dupers had signed it, a member from every sect of supernaturals speaking for their entire species in North America. For a space of time, a little over two years, the Supes lived side by side with humans. I remembered going to the grocery store with my mom and asking about the man behind the butcher counter. His eyes were enormous, bug eyes, and his mouth was wide with two extra canines on either side. I still have no idea what he was, only that at the time he was terrifyingly different. My mom had grabbed my hand and dragged me from the store, her face flushed as she yelled at any who would listen.
“Supernaturals, they will be the death of us. You wait and see!”
Looking back, her words were rather prophetic.
The Firstamentalists had protested and petitioned to have all supernaturals wiped out; their rallies were epic, according to my mother. The rise of the Aegrus virus in the early 2000s had served them well, producing enough fear that in the end it had enabled them to get a Wall built along the forty-ninth parallel, mimicking the two Walls in Eurasia. The supernaturals were asked nicely to stay on their side of the border while the humans stayed on the other. For the most part, it worked.
I’d always lived on the southern side, of course, in Seattle, and while there was some crossover, it was not so much that I’d ever noticed. Like the nurse in Whidbey had said, there were only a few reasons supernaturals were allowed to cross the Wall. Specific jobs being one of them. They weren’t allowed to just roam into town to grab a coffee from Starbucks and then head back on over the Wall by lunch.
As far as I knew, no one in my life was a Super Duper.
Until the old man who started sitting outside my bakery. Every morning he was there, his eyes reminding me of my brother, the deep, dark brown so soft and gentle. Even the clothes he wore with his hoodie and torn-up jeans reminded me of Tad. So every morning I gave him the leftovers of my baking from the day before. I didn’t know he was a Super Duper; I learned that later in the worst way possible.
The last time I’d seen him, he’d clutched at my hand. “Bless you. You are an angel in disguise. A merciful angel. I wish—” He’d coughed and slid back to his spot holding up the wall. I’d waved him off with a smile, feeling like I’d done my charitable duty, more than I would have ever done as a Firstamentalist. I handed him the bagels I’d brought out for him and went back into the warmth of my shop. Of course I’d washed, but the virus . . . it worked so fast it was already in me just from that small contact. It had been too late for me the moment I’d handed him the bagels.
My dreams shifted and faded, grew in intensity and color until it felt like I was inside a rainbow, swimming through the colors as they washed over my bare skin. Waves of pleasure rolled through me, and I arched toward the sensation, the warmth trickling over my limbs like fingers plucking at a harp. Roger, was I with Roger? No, sex had never been this good with Roger; this thought-numbing sensuality was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I went with it, let it flow through me, embracing it for all it was worth.
I wanted to clutch the sensation to me, and a low, deep laugh rumbled from nearby. “Alena, you are going to be my finest work. A goddess in disguise. Beautiful and luscious in every way. Submissive, malleable. Sheer perfection.”
The man’s voice slipped away and I slid back into my dreamland, fading in and out. Perhaps this was death? Had I died and not realized it? Consciousness slowly grasped hold of me and pulled me out of the fog. Not dead, then. I’d been sleeping. My skin was hot and flushed from the wild sensations, and I ran a hand down my side, the skin as soft and smooth as whipped butter.
Naked. I was naked. I groaned and slid the same hand up and over my chest.
Flesh and muscle twitched under my fingers, and I opened an eye. Above me a ceiling fan swirled lazily enough that a few flies played dodge the blade with it. I sat up and my sheet fell to my waist. I glanced down and my jaw dropped.
“Oh, my.” I had a waist again. I had breasts again and they were stunning: at least a C cup with gravity-defying perkiness that I’d only ever dreamed about.
Merlin hadn’t been kidding. Perfectly formed, I skimmed my hand over my body, reveling in being able to move, to feel my skin without worrying it might tear or hurt. I tipped my head, and a swath—yes, an actual swath—of straight blue-black hair slid over my back and shoulder. A shiver of pleasure cascaded through me on the heels of the hair. I’d been a brunette before, a dark brunette, but I’d never dyed my hair despite always wanting that perfect midnight tone.