The Twisted Kiss: Doomsyear, Book 1 Read Online Free

into the house.
    The other three psychics were already in the living room, steaming carafe of coffee on the wood-and-glass table in front of them, along with five cups. They’d been expecting her.
    Kylie nodded at the other three—an older black man named Tony, a middle-aged brunette woman named Charlotte and a skinny man in his early twenties named Brian. Brian was a second-generation psychic, born of a mother who had been virus-affected during doomsyear.
    She sank down onto the edge of an overstuffed floral chair. The three psychics were all watching her with various pleasant expressions on their faces.
    Creepy.
    Glancing around, she quickly found the source of the tick-tocking in the far corner—a great-grandfather clock with a heavy brass pendulum. The house was small and crammed with various pieces of antique furniture. The floor was polished wood and scattered with thick but worn throw rugs.
    Margaret entered the room and poured them all cups of coffee. She even knew that Kylie took hers black. Then, with a grandmotherly smile, she sank onto the couch next to Tony. “We know why you’re here, Kylie, and we don’t need our particular skills to understand why.”
    Her coffee cup trembled in her hand. “I’m not a supernatural, Margaret. With all due respect, please leave me out of your proclamations. I have no desire to be matched with Christian or Michael, let alone both of them together.”
    Tony looked down into his coffee cup, lips pursed. “Desires. They’re a funny thing, you know. Sometimes what we think we want isn’t really what we want…or need.”
    “I don’t need psychoanalysis. I need my life back the way it was yesterday.”
    “Was your life really all that great yesterday?” Brian asked.
    She looked at him in shock. “What a rude question.”
    “Remember,” said Charlotte gently, “we see more than most.”
    “Well, whatever you see for me, I want to remain the same. I don’t want to be with a man. I just want to run my bar, make my art and be left alone.”
    “Alone is what you are and alone is what you’ll always be if you don’t take a risk on these two men,” answered Margaret. She raised her white eyebrows at Kylie as she took a sip of her coffee.
    “They are your soul mates,” said Charlotte. “If you pass up this opportunity, it will be a great tragedy for not only you, but for Christian and Michael. Give them a chance, Kylie.”
    Soul mates?
    Her brain tripped over the term. In the back of her mind, she’d always understood that the council’s proclamations did, indeed, bring soul mates together—or make extremely compatible matches at any rate. Since she’d first learned of the proclamation, Kylie had thought of it as little more than a pain in the ass. The possibility that she might be shunning her best chance at lasting romantic happiness had never really occurred to her.
    Still, she wanted to resist it. “I’m… human, ” she insisted. “Christian is a werewolf and Michael—”
    “Is a vampire,” answered Margaret. “Yes, we’re aware it’s an unusual match. I think you’re a little too concerned with it, however. We were all one race before doomsyear. Despite our surface differences, we are still one race.” She paused and smiled kindly. “And all of us are worthy of love, Kylie.” She paused and took a sip of her coffee. “Even you.”
    All four of the council members watched her carefully as those words seemed to echo in the room. Suddenly Kylie felt naked, like they could see right into the center of her—all her insecurities, all her anxieties.
    All her guilt.
    She shifted in the chair, placing her barely touched coffee onto the table in front of her. She should have known that coming here would be a mistake. Of course, the council wouldn’t admit to mismatching people. She was stuck with the proclamation.
    Kylie stood. “I would say thank you , but you’ve turned my life upside down.”
    Margaret seemed unperturbed by the tense set of her