Page 6 of Echoes of Desire
I turn my gaze to Jasper, feeling the weight of his stare before I even meet his eyes. “Yours is deeper. Colder. Like steel. Strong and unyielding. You don’t try to make people feel safe. You make them feel like they don’t have a choice but to trust you.”
For the first time, Jasper’s expression shifts, softening for a fraction of a second. It’s subtle, barely there, but I catch it before he smooths his face into that unreadable mask again.
“Interesting,” he says, his voice as steady as ever. “You’ve got a good ear.”
“I have to,” I reply with a small shrug. “It’s how I make sense of the world.”
Jaxon chuckles, his grin turning playful. “So, I’m the fun one, and he’s the scary one?”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” Jasper says, his lips twitching into what might be the beginnings of a smirk. “Are there other ways you can identify someone you know without hearing their voice?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, tilting my head as I think. “It depends on how well I know them. Certain mannerisms, the way someone walks, their scent even. Those things can give me clues. But if I’m meeting someone new or in a crowd, I get completely lost. Even with those clues, it sometimes takes a while for everything to connect.”
Jaxon hums, his smile still present but softer now. “Sounds like you have to be really observant.”
“I guess,” I say, my shoulders shrugging lightly. “It’s not like I have a choice. If I don’t focus on those things, I won’t even recognize people I’ve known for years. Shoot, my own mother could walk up to me right now, and I wouldn’t know it was her until the clues connected in my brain. Or she did our secret hand signal to let me know it was her.”
Jasper leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “And does that bother you?”
I blink at him, startled by the question. “What do you mean?”
“Does it bother you to rely on details most people overlook? To know you’ll never see someone the way others do?”
His tone isn’t judgmental. It’s calm, almost clinical, but the question lands heavily anyway. I glance down at my hands, fidgeting with the edge of my napkin.
“It used to,” I admit quietly. “When I was a teenager, I hated it. I wanted to be like everyone else, to look at someone and just… know them. But now? I think I see people more clearly in some ways. It’s not about their face. It’s about who they are when they speak, when they move, when they’re just… being themselves.”
Jaxon leans back, his smile returning full force. “That’s kind of beautiful, you know.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “It’s just how I survive. It’s the only way I’ve known. I guess you can’t miss something you’ve never had, huh?”
Jasper’s eyes remain locked on mine, his gaze unwavering. “Survival isn’t a small thing, Raven.”
The way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine, not from fear but something close to reverence. Almost as if he’s testing the weight of it in his mouth.
“Bartending, huh?” Jaxon says. “Can you recognize your usual customers? Being a Bonafide therapist is part of the job, right?”
“By the end of the night, my customers don’t even remember their own faces,” I laugh.
“Speaking of bartenders, let’s eat,” Jasper says. “We actually have someone coming in for an interview for that precise job in less than an hour.”
“Oh, where do you guys work?”
“I’m not sure you’re ready for that conversation, sweetheart,” Jaxon laughs.
“Well, since I found you both outside of Oasis, I’m going to assume you work there,” I say, ignoring the ever-present heat on my face. Everyone knows what goes on at Oasis. Even if it is a private club. “I bet you’re bodyguards. You’re both built like tanks.”
Jaxon laughs, his grin widening. “Bodyguards, huh? That’s one way to put it.”
Jasper smirks faintly but doesn’t correct me. Instead, he picks up his fork and gestures toward the plate of food in front of me. “Eat, Raven. You’re going to need your strength.”
The way he says it makes my stomach flip, though I can’t tell if it’s because of the intensity in his tone or the fact that he sounds like he knows something I don’t. Either way, I grab my fork andtake another bite of the fettuccine, even though my appetite is practically non-existent.
Chapter Four
Blaze