Nadya/Nadia Ch. 01

I wasn't going to leave Nadya/Nadia up because I have rewritten it and it doesn't come into the current series until Book 8. However, I am the author equivalent of a cheap date, and when someone contacted me to say they loved the characters, liked my stories and wanted to read this one again, well, here it is. :)

It is as it was - I like to think as I write more stories I become better at telling them, but I didn't go through this one to edit it too much. There is filtering. There are adverbs. There is telling rather than showing. It's wordy. It's mostly written in omni POV!

All the chapters are going to be submitted today, so they will show up until the story is complete.

*****

"What is happening to me?" Nadya asked aloud. She glanced around her small studio apartment nervously. No one answered, and she felt relieved. She was alone, but the way things had been going for her lately, she wouldn't have been surprised to receive an answer from the empty room. In the last week, she had randomly starting hearing other people's thoughts. Not all the time, and she couldn't direct it to anyone in particular, but she had not enjoyed hearing the thoughts her boss was having about his girlfriends, and not just because he was married with four kids. Eeew.

As if that was not weirdness enough for a girl to have to deal with, sometimes when she wanted things, they just appeared in front of her. This also happened at random, and she had no idea how to direct it. If it only happened in the privacy of her home, that would be one thing, but having hot beignets from Cafe Du Monde, the Cafe Du Monde in New Orleans, show up on the table when she was having coffee with a potential client on the west coast, had made things awkward. Even though her potential client had eaten all the beignets and hired her.

And as if that was not weirdness enough for a girl to have to deal with, she could move things with her mind.

And, as if all that was not weirdness enough, she was losing time. At first it had been a minute here, ten minutes there. She had convinced herself she was just daydreaming, but now she had lost an entire day and night. She looked down at herself. The skin tight little black dress she had on was not her style. She definitely didn't own anything like it. The dress was so tight, if she wasn't already almost hyperventilating, she would be afraid to breathe for fear the seams would burst. She wondered, only slightly hysterically ,if it was possible to fit underwear under the dress. There way no way she was wearing a bra, but some sort of magical corsetry had her boobs supported, and on clear display.

Marshaling all her will power, she stood to move towards the bathroom, and promptly fell over. She caught herself on her hands and knees, amazed again when the dress didn't rip, and looked to see what she had tripped on. The six inch black stiletto heels on her feet were the culprits. She d never choose to willingly subject her feet to these instruments of torture, and there was no way she could walk in them, as illustrated by her current position on the floor. Curious, she looked at the bottom of one of the deadly weapons strapped to her feet. The sole was scuffed up, so either she had managed to walk in these shoes, or she was wearing someone else's shoes. She didn't know which scenario she preferred.

"What is happening to me?" she asked aloud again, then froze, in case she actually received an answer from her empty studio. She didn't. She rid herself of the stilettos, only wincing a little bit as she realized her feet hurt. She stood, still amazed the dress hadn't ripped with all her contorting, although she realized her back did not bend at all, and limped into the bathroom.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she gasped. Her hair had always been black, but now her hair spilled down over her shoulders in a perfectly straight, glossy ebony waterfall. Her blue eyes were made up with smokey grey shadows and black eyeliner, expertly applied, as was her blood red lipstick. She didn't own makeup. As if she needed to prove this fact about herself to herself, she frantically opened the medicine cabinet and every drawer in the bathroom. No cosmetics of any kind. Snatching a tissue from the box on the counter, she scrubbed at her face, trying to remove the eye shadow and lipstick.

It didn't come off.

It didn't even smudge.

She grabbed a hand towel, ran hot water over it and scrubbed at her face again. No change. She lunged over the sink to peer more closely at her face in the mirror. Had someone tattooed the makeup on her face? No, that couldn't be right. Trying to think logically, she told herself a new tattoo would still be sore and scabbed over. Her skin was smooth. What was on her face? It had only been a day and a night, hadn't it?

"Soap," she said, grasping for answers. "Makeup could be waterproof. I just need some soap to wash the makeup off, that's all." She reached around to the back of the dress, trying to find a way out of it. She felt laces in the back, and spun around, looking over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. She let out a stifled sob of dismay as she realized there was no way she could undo the lacing by herself. She saw the barest hint of metal on her left side, and reached for it, relieved to find a zipper. She unzipped the dress, tossed it onto the floor, and saw it was possible to wear underwear under the dress, but couldn't figure out the point of panties that tiny. Quickly, she stripped those off too, and panicked again when she saw she had been shaved completely bare. She kicked the dress repeatedly.

There was something on her thigh, really high up on the inside. She ran her fingers over it. Not raised Not sore. Not a tattoo. She contorted herself to get a better look at it. A stamp. The kind of stamp night clubs used for re-entry. The stamp read Saol. What kind of night club was Saol that they stamped their patrons on their thighs! What was wrong with a wrist or the back of a hand?

She took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled slowly trying to calm herself. Reaching into the shower stall, she turned the water on scalding, and stepped into the spray, not caring if her skin was burned. She just wanted to feel clean. She scrubbed viciously at her hair with shampoo three times, but no dye came off her hair when she rinsed it. She put way too much shower gel on a loofah and started scrubbing her body, realizing as she did that she didn't even have hair on her arms or legs anymore. Putting that fact aside for the moment, she scrubbed her face with the loofah. She let water stream over her face to rinse the soapy foam away. Gradually, the scalding water relaxed her muscles, and she stood under it until it finally started going cold.

Getting out of the shower, she kept her gaze firmly averted from the mirror as she dried herself off and pulled on a robe. She left the bathroom, and got dressed in comfy pajamas before she laid on her bed. She was exhausted, but afraid to sleep. What if she lost more time? She needed a plan, but the only clue she had was the nightclub stamp. Saol. She tried to remember anything from the last twenty four hours. Nothing. She would have to go to Saol. Maybe someone there would recognize her.

Suddenly she sat up. Mordecai. Maybe he could help her. She got up and searched for her phone. When she didn't find it immediately, she tore through the studio. It shouldn't be this hard to find something in a place this small. Finally, after twenty minutes of frantic searching, she located her phone in the kitchen trash can. Stabbing at the power button did nothing, it was dead.

She plugged the phone into its charger on her nightstand, pacing as she waited for the battery to charge to the minimum level for use. When the battery icon finally went green, she snatched the phone up and tapped the buttons for Mordecai. Her call was answered, but Mordecai didn't say anything. "Mordecai?" she said, her voice a croak. The call was disconnected. She immediately redialed, and when the call was picked up, she rushed to say, "Please, I need you."

There was a long silence, before Mordecai's deep voice finally responded. "You made yourself perfectly clear last night, as did I," and he disconnected the call again.

Utterly confused, Nadya redialed, but her call went straight to Mordecai's voice mail, which was full so she couldn't leave a message. Staring dumbly at her phone, she noticed her text message icon had an alert. Out of habit, she touched that button to bring up the new text message from her friend Jasmine.

1:36am: I was at your apartment, but you weren't home. I'm getting scared! Where are you?

Scrolling back further, she saw more text messages from Jasmine starting the previous afternoon.

4:30pm Hey, you never showed up for coffee! It's not nice to stand up your best friend!

8:45pm Did Mordecai sweep you off your feet at dinner?

9:52pm I'm getting worried, are you all right?

11:02pm Call me, please!

12:30am I'm coming over if you don't answer me!

Going back to the main screen of her texts, she saw with dread underneath Jasmine's name was Mordecai's, and his last text echoed the words he had said when she called him: You have made yourself perfectly clear. Scrolling down, her eyes widened in horror and she felt nauseated as she read.

7:30pm You are late for dinner. Again. Shall I order for you?

7:33pm No.

7:34pm Because you are almost here?

7:36pm Because I'm not meeting you.

7:39pm Please answer your phone.

7:42pm Very well. If you will not answer my calls, I will come to you.

7:45pm Stay away from me.

7:48pm When I arrive, you can explain what is wrong. I will see you in twenty minutes.

7:50pm I never want to see you again.

7:52pm I dislike text messages, but fine. What is wrong?

7:55pm Nothing. Everything is finally right.

7:58pm I did not expect games like this from you. I will not pursue you if this is some bid to gain attention from me.

8:00pm I can't seem to make you understand I want nothing to do with you anymore. I don't know why I ever did. I never want to see you, or hear from you again. Do not contact me ever again. Is that clear?

8:00pm You have made yourself perfectly clear.

Nadya sat heavily on her bed. She hadn't sent any of those text messages. But she must have. She just couldn't remember doing it. A pounding on her front door roused her, and she went to answer it. Jasmine pushed her way in. "Where have you been?" Jasmine shouted. "You had me worried sick! I couldn't sleep. You should feel —" She broke off. "What's wrong?" she asked as she hugged Nadya then pushed her an arms length away and looked her up and down. "You look terrible."

Wordlessly Nadya handed Jasmine her phone, the screen still showing the text message exchange with Mordecai, and flopped onto her bed.

Jasmine looked up, confused. "Why would you do this? Did Mordecai do something? You love him, and that man loves you!"

"I don't know what's happening to me," Nadya whispered, and tears came. Jasmine joined Nadya on her bed, and Nadya turned her face into Jasmine's shoulder and sobbed until she was cried out.

"Tell me what's been happening to you," Jasmine said, when Nadya had calmed down.

"You'll think I'm crazy," Nadya said, but she told Jasmine about reading thoughts, moving things with her mind, and making things appear.

"But you can't do it all the time?" Jasmine asked.

"No," Nadya said. "But that's not the worst part." Nadya told her about missing time, and how it was getting progressively worse, until she lost an entire day and night.

"So the text messages were sent when you were having a black out," Jasmine said. "Mordecai will understand that, you have to tell him!"

"He won't speak to me now," Nadya said. "I called him this morning, and his voice was so cold. All he said was 'You made yourself perfectly clear'."

"Well, I refuse to believe it's the end for you two," Jasmine said. "I've never seen two people more meant to be together."

"I need to figure out what's happening to me," Nadya said. "What if he forgives me, and it happens again?"

"He'll know it's not you!" Jasmine said. "He'll help you if you tell him what's been happening to you."

Nadya sighed.

"Get some sleep now," Jasmine said. "You look as if you haven't slept for days. You'll feel better when you wake up, and we'll start figuring out what's happening to you."

Nadya scooted underneath her bed covers and put her head on her pillow, but she was positive she wouldn't be able to sleep at all.

*****

When Nadya woke, it was dark. She'd slept the whole day away, and a glance at her phone told her it was after 10pm. Jasmine was asleep beside her, propped up against the wall, her head at an uncomfortable angle. Nadya got out of the bed carefully, letting Jasmine sleep.

Crossing the studio to her laptop, Nadya did an internet search for Saol, found that it was open, and its location. She crossed back to her bedroom area and surveyed her wardrobe. She never went to night clubs, and other than the dress she'd worn last night, had nothing appropriate to wear. She went into the bathroom and picked up the dress off the floor. One good thing about it being so tight, it wouldn't show any wrinkles.

She got out of her pajamas, and pulled on the ridiculous panties, because she couldn't bear thinking about going without, especially if the stamp was going to be in the same place, then the dress, struggling to zip herself into the corset part, but finally managing to do it. There was no way she was going to be able to do her hair and makeup like it had been, and absolutely no way she was going to try to walk anywhere in the death trap shoes she had worn last night. She put on a pair of three inch black heels instead, and considered herself daring for wearing heels even that high.

Jasmine was still asleep. Nadya scribbled a note that she was going out, but should be back by midnight. She didn't plan to spend very long at the club, she just wanted to see if it brought back any memories for her. She pulled on a long black coat, and went out to find a taxi.

The ride to Saol took twenty minutes. When they arrived, she paid the driver and got out, looking in dismay across the street at the long line of people waiting to get into the club. There were two extremely tall and well built men at the front of the line letting people in. One of them looked up, saw her, and a smirk spread across his handsome face. He kept his eyes on her, and said something she shouldn't have been able to hear from across the street, but the words "Come to me," were loud in her head, and she felt her body walk towards him without any thought to do so on her part.

When she got close, he stretched out his hand towards her, and again without any thought on her part, her body reacted, and her hand was in his. He closed his fingers around hers and led her into Saol. The other man said, "Alaric," in an exasperated voice.

Alaric ignored him, and directed her into a small ticket booth. He picked her up, sat her on the edge of a table, and slid his hands up her legs, underneath the short skirt of her dress. His thumb rubbed at the spot she had found the Saol stamp that morning for just a second before he roughly jerked her thighs apart and pulled her towards him, causing her to fall back on the table. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he leaned over her and pushed his big body against hers forcefully, and intimately. He lowered his head to her ear, and whispered, "You disappeared last night. We didn't get to finish our game."

Nadya couldn't think. She wanted to protest, she didn't do this kind of thing! But her mouth wouldn't say the words she wanted it to. She closed her eyes, and turned her head away, immediately feeling more herself. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed. He didn't budge. His fingers stroked along the edge of her panties and she felt herself getting wet. She unwrapped her legs from around him and tried to push away from him.

"Feeling shy tonight, little pradă?" Alaric mocked. "Even as you offer me your neck? You weren't shy last night when you were offering me other parts of body. Or when parts of my body were in parts of yours."

What the hell was he talking about? What had she done? She snapped her head back around, opening her eyes, and was trapped in his gaze again. Quickly she closed her eyes, but did not turn her head again. "I.." she stammered. "I..I can't remember."

Alaric reared back. "Look at me," he commanded.

Nadya's eyes flew open. Alaric's black eyes had turned blue, and he was studying her closely. "You are the exquisite prey I hunted last night, and yet you are not," he said. "I do not wish to have you when you are weak and cowering." He backed away from her as if he had just found out she was contagious with a plague. "Run away, little pradă. Come back when you're the challenge you were last night."

Nadya lurched off the table, and pulled down her dress. "Please, can you help me? I-"

Alaric waved a dismissive hand at her. "Run away home, pradă. You don't belong here. There are many other predators here who would not let you flee so easily. Go, before one of them takes the choice from you."

"But—"

"Go!" Alaric roared. "Or maybe I'll change my mind and have a taste of you scared."

Nadya fled from the booth into the hallway, out the front door and onto the sidewalk. A taxi was pulling up dropping more people off, and Nadya dove into it before the new arrivals had even finished getting out.

"Are you all right?" a flame-haired woman asked. Nadya had landed halfway in her lap, but the woman didn't seem too bothered about having a nearly hysterical stranger in her lap. "This place can be overwhelming if you're not used to it."

"I don't know," Nadya whispered, nearly in tears.

"My name is Ember," the red-haired woman introduced herself. "I'm good friends with the owner of Saol — has someone here upset you?" She eyed the crowd and saw Alaric smirking at them. Ember narrowed her gaze at him, and he put up his hands and shrugged his shoulders, all innocence.

"Lady, in or out, I can't just wait around here all night," the taxi driver snapped at them.

Ember's hair went from red to glossy ebony, and her eyes shone silver from smoky shadows and black liner. "You will wait until I release you," she snapped back at the driver.

The driver's eyes went blank, and he mumbled, "I will wait."

When Ember turned back to Nadya, her eyes were dark green, and her hair was red again. If Nadya hadn't seen herself look exactly like that this morning, she would have thought she had imagined the entire transformation.

"You change like me," Nadya whispered. "Will you help me? Please, I don't know what's happening to me."

Nadya found herself being studied closely again. "You look exhausted. Let's get you home, shall we?" Ember asked, but it was more of a statement. She waved off her friends, saying she would be back, and turned back to Nadya. "Give the driver your address."

Nadya found herself obeying. When they arrived, Ember pressed a business card into Nadya's hand. "Call me tomorrow so we can get things sorted for you. Go in, and get a good night's sleep now."

Nadya obediently climbed out of the taxi and let herself into her studio, watching from the big picture window as the taxi drove away. She looked down at the card in her hand. Ember Photography. Setting the card down on a table, she closed the curtains and went into the bathroom, stripping off the dress and kicking off the heels. She smiled when she saw Jasmine still asleep in her bed.

What had she done last night? What parts of that man had been in what parts of her? She grabbed her head as flashes of memory came back to her — kissing Alaric, his tongue in her mouth, and hers in his. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head back hard, exposing her neck to his tongue. His fingers on her leg, stroking her skin higher and higher. His fingers inside her, stroking in a whole different way. Her gazing down at him, his head moving between her widespread legs. An orgasm so powerful just the memory of it almost brought her to her knees now. His mouth on her thigh - a sharp pain, strong suction and bliss. Had he bitten her? The memories stopped. She looked at her leg, but there was no bite mark there. She shuddered, turned on the shower as hot as she could make it and stepped in, turning her skin red. She scrubbed herself until the hot water ran out, wishing there was a hot shower she could use to wash the unwanted images from her mind.