Cataclysm (11 page)

When had Gabe become a southern belle?

Kerrigan turned away from her friend to find the jogging man standing over them. He definitely wasn’t Orlando Bloom, although he would be a very convincing double. He had at least five inches on Dominic with the legs of a runner, bulging muscles covered with tight, tanned skin. His torso was long and his bare chest was well-defined. A silver chain hung around his neck with a gold band dangling from its end. His shoulders were muscular, and his dark, chestnut hair hung in thick waves to just above his shoulders. The cut of his jaw was angular and smooth-shaven, but a light mustache and meticulously-trimmed goatee framed his heart-shaped lips. Faint smile lines creased the corner of eyes the color of warm honey. He looked like an angel fallen from Heaven, and his skin... it practically glowed. Not in the way a woman’s skin glows from a religious care regime—he had a faint light oozing from his pores. He was beautiful.

And he was staring at her with a curious expression on his godlike face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.” He had a thick British accent, distinguished and creamy smooth like Werther’s caramels. His expression made him look as if he was trying to figure out a mathematical equation. “But...” he continued and then stopped again before a smile as bright as his skin rose on his face and his brow furrowed in contemplation. “May I ask you a silly question?”

Gabe interrupted before Kerrigan could respond. “No, my first name ain’t Baby. It’s Gabe. Miss Baxter if you’re nasty,” he said with suggestive eyes.

Okay, Janet Jackson complex much?

The stranger laughed a deep, hearty sound and then extended his hand toward Gabe. “Well, in that case... Hello, Miss Baxter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Mm, boy, you shouldn’t tease like that.” Gabe placed a limp hand in his. “It’s just not nice to lead people on.”

“My apologies, Gabe.” The stranger bowed, pouring on the chivalrous charm. “I simply couldn’t resist. My name is Andrew Dickens, but my friends call me Drew. And this,” he patted his dog’s head, “is Akasha, my ever-faithful companion.” He turned his attention back to Kerrigan. “And who might this lovely specimen be?”

“That would be
my
ever-faithful companion, Princess Fetch-A-Lot. I took pity on her when I saw her down at the animal shelter and did what any dog lover would do: I adopted her, and I didn’t even care that she was a mutt. Poor thing was covered in her own piss when I first brought her home,” Gabe said with pity in his voice as he patted her head. Then he leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Took me forever to convince her that running water and soap were a much better alternative to urine and feces for bathing purposes. I still have a hard time keeping her out of the trash, and she’s a bit gassy, but she’s a pretty good bitch besides all that.”

Kerrigan shot her supposed best friend the evil eye and introduced herself. “My
name
is Kerrigan Cruz. You’ll have to forgive my friend, he’s looking a little
fat
today and that always puts him in a foul mood.” She gave Gabe a tight smile that said,
Ha! Suck-on-that.

Drew chuckled. “You two are quite the pair, aren’t you? Are you from Saint Augustine, or just here on spring break?”

“We just moved into town about three months ago,” Kerrigan answered. “You?”

“I’m from London, actually. Here on holiday.”

Gabe squealed and squirmed. “Ooh! I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to use this line.” He cleared his throat and lowered his chin to his chest, giving Drew come-hither eyes. “Is that Big Ben in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Kerrigan rolled her eyes in an exaggerated motion and turned toward Drew. “Aaaand speaking of silly questions, you had one you wanted to ask me?”

“Well, yes,” he said, squatting to her level. “This is going to sound like total lunacy if you don’t know what I’m talking about, but here goes nothing: I happen to know who and what you are, but do
you
know what
I
am?”

“An extremely attractive, very gay Englishman looking to score a little spring break action with an equally attractive, obscenely gay American man? Emphasis on the obscene?” Gabe closed his eyes and crossed his fingers as he chanted in a whispered voice, “Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Gabe, but I would feel terrible for leading you on. I’m not gay.”

“Maybe you just don’t know it yet.” Gabe waggled his brows.

Drew chuckled. “If I were, I would consider myself lucky to, how did you say it? Score a little spring break action with the likes of you.” He gave Gabe a flirtatious wink, and then he turned back to Kerrigan, his eyes caressing her bikini-clad form. “But, suffice it to say, I am very much attracted to beautiful women.”

“Well, you can forget about that one; she’s taken.”

He looked Kerrigan over again, causing her to blush and suddenly wish she had on three layers of clothing. “Pity.”

Kerrigan cleared her throat. “Back to what you are?”

“Yes. Do I look different to you, Kerrigan? A little brighter, perhaps?”

“Brighter, as in smart?”

“Brighter as in I could light up a room,” he clarified with a smile that nearly blinded her.

What were the odds? A perfect stranger just happens to pinpoint her out of a crowd of hundreds on a public beach, waltzes up to her, pours on the charm, looks at her with eyes that capture and suspend their intended target within the sands of time, and then tells her that he knows who and what she is. The funny thing was that she was pretty certain she knew what he was as well.

The attraction she felt to him had nothing at all to do with his devastatingly good looks, his charisma, or the panty-melting British accent. It was borne of kinship. It was like when you meet someone for the very first time, and you don’t know them from Adam, but you hit it off like you have known each other your entire life. And then, later, you find out that your new friend is actually some distant cousin twice removed, or a long-lost sister that your parents never even bothered to tell you they had put up for adoption.

Okay, that might be a tad dramatic, but the concept was the same. Kerrigan felt compelled to drop her guard and share her secret with a complete stranger, and as dangerous as that might have been, she felt like her secret was perfectly safe with Andrew Dickens. He just had an aura about him that oozed familiarity, safety... home.

He reminded her of her grandmother. Still, she had to proceed with caution.

Her answering nod was almost nonexistent. “Why would you say something like that, Mr. Dickens?”

Drew leaned in closer to whisper in her ear. “Because, Miss Cruz, I’m a Guardian of the Light, too.”

Drew pulled away from Kerrigan, but not before he inhaled her scent. Just like he had suspected, she smelled of sunshine and warmth.

A smile that he knew had the power to entice women on its own made an appearance and he studied her eyes, their color reminding him of a calm, midday sky. Little specks of the power contained within them sparked minutely, so dimly that only someone who knew what they were looking for would recognize it.

Oh, yes... the power of the Light that surged through her veins was potent. And judging by the look of surprise on her face, she was but a babe in her illustrious gift.

He knew from the moment he caught the glare of her gift in his peripheral vision that he was near a Guardian, but he had to do a double-take to be sure it wasn’t the play of the sun reflecting off the metal of one of the many cars parked in the lot just over the sand dunes behind her. He had met a few Guardians over his nearly thirty years of life, so his confidence that she was among the elite bloodlines wasn’t unusual. Pure and goodhearted by nature, he knew it was safe to reveal their common bond.

But she wasn’t quite as sure.

His degree in psychology with a specialization in human emotions and behavior had prepared him well enough to use facial expressions and body language to decipher a person’s mental state, despite what they might otherwise have others believe with words alone. He could pinpoint any little nuance they might seek to hide. Or make blatantly clear.

Kerrigan shook her head. “I’m sorry, what?” Denial. Her brow furrowed. Confusion. Her muscles bunched, and she shifted as if her body wanted to flee, but common sense forbade it lest she give away the truth she was trying, unsuccessfully he might add, to conceal.

“You’re a Guardian, and so am I.” His voice was sure, his posture steadfast.

She looked him over, her head cocked and eyes narrowed. Drew could practically hear the wheels grinding in her sweet brain, turning over every plausible explanation, every reason to believe and not to believe that he was what he claimed.

Perhaps it was curiosity that demanded she stay.

The gold band that hung from the chain around his neck heated against his chest, reminding him that part of his uncanny ability to decipher fact from fiction lay within the magical alloys of its composition. The Ring of Truth, as his family had come to call it, always burned hot when a person within its vicinity told a lie. The ring was forged way before his time, or that of his father or grandfather. No one knew for sure how his family had come to possess it, but rumor was that it had first been given to his ancestor, his great-great-grandfather’s father, Charles Dickens.
The
Charles Dickens.

But Drew didn’t need the Ring of Truth to tell him what was about to happen.

Kerrigan licked her lips, an elementary indicator that she was preparing to tell a lie and needed the extra lubrication to force the words past the unwilling gatekeepers. Shifting eyes sought out a response with which her honest conscience could bear to let her tell. And then she turned her gaze away, unable to look him in the eye.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lie.

“Girl, what the hell is wrong with you?” Gabe asked in a high-pitched voice. He was excited, unlike his companion. “You know exact—”

The whip of her head in his direction and the cutting glare she shot him stopped him dead in his tracks. Her words were measured, meant to convey a hidden message that was easily deciphered. “You’re looking a little
pinkish
, Gabe. I think it’s time for us to go home before you get a raging case of
sunburn
.”

It was an idle threat, one she had no intention of acting on. As a Guardian, she would never use her gift on someone for whom she cared. She leaned toward her friend, the lines of her body soft—as if seeking comfort, proof of the contradiction to her words—it was easy to see she cared very much for Gabe.

A relative, or perhaps a best friend.

Drew rested a hand on her bare shoulder, and she turned to look at it before lifting her eyes to his face. In an attempt to make her feel more comfortable, he removed the clearly unwanted intrusion, but not before he felt the muted hum of vibration that passed between them. Her mouth dropped open, searching for words. She felt it, too.

He made sure to soften his voice, oozing honesty and sincerity. “Kerrigan, Guardians can sense each other. We’re like a beacon even on the brightest of days. Even if your skin didn’t glow, I’d know it by the illumination in your eyes. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m one of the good guys. I can help you.”

She scoffed. “How do you know I need help?”

He sighed, his honey-colored eyes exuding warmth. “Everything happens for a reason. I believe I may have been sent here to find you.”