Songbird (A Sinclair Story #1) (21 page)

“It’s
time, Dee.” Candice appeared from the other doorway and she was now dressed in
a stunning floor length black dress. The color dramatically set off her hair
and skin tone.

“You
look beautiful. Are you a bridesmaid?” Melodee asked, having not even given a
thought to a bridal party.

Candice
laughed. “Nathan said this day was about you, him and Jewel. He figured you
wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Melodee
smiled at how well Nathan knew her. “For the record, I would have loved having
you as a bridesmaid.”

The
room emptied then and Melodee took a deep breath, knowing that this was the
moment. She was about to marry Nathan, she was about to find her home for the
first time ever. A place to belong.

“Let’s
do this,” she said, dragging Candice from the room.

They
traveled down the stairs and Candice led her through the house, which was
massive and gorgeous, open-plan, in colors of the sea. It looked exactly how
Melodee had pictured a rich person’s beach house. They stopped before a large,
ornately detailed set of double doors.

“This
is where I leave you.” Candice hugged her and Jewel, before turning and opening
a side door and disappearing.

Taking
a deep breath, Melodee shifted Jewel in her arms. She didn’t have a bouquet;
she would carry her daughter down the aisle. At no point in her life did she
believe she would trust anyone enough to tie her life to them. But she wasn’t
even nervous. On the other side of this door was Nathan, and Melodee couldn’t
wait to get to him. Of course, she had to make it down the aisle and past all
the curious faces, but she could do it for Nathan.
                                                                     
She
reached out and with no doubts placed a hand on the door. It swung in without a
sound. She took a moment to stare at the stunning scene before her. The path
beyond the doorway was lined with flower petals and huge lanterns which led her
up to the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea. It was late afternoon here and
the sun was starting to set in spectacular fashion across the sky. She stepped
cautiously, but the wider heel gave her no trouble as she started toward the
chairs and arched flower display she could see in the distance. And most
importantly toward Nathan.

Suddenly
she stopped short as she realized he was standing in the center of the path in
front of her. Dressed in a black suit, it was not quite a tuxedo, but one of
those fashionable in-between styles. He looked more handsome than she had ever
seen him, the lanterns burning with the sunset and the wind tousling his blond
hair. His aqua eyes were sparkling as he captured her gaze, and then they
darkened as they took her in.

The sight of Melodee in a
stunning wedding dress walking along the path, carrying his beautiful daughter,
almost dropped Nathan to his knees. She was breathtaking, the dress showcasing
every one of her curves, her huge blue eyes warm as he drowned in their depths.
Nathan knew he would have crawled over broken glass to get to her. He hadn’t
even realized how empty and narrow his world had been. These two people were
the ones to give his life meaning, and not only would he fight anyone to keep
them, he would start a war and raze the world to the ground if it meant they
were safe and happy.
 

“What
are you doing here?” Melodee said as they stood across from each other, her
voice breathy. “Aren’t you supposed to be waiting at the end for me?”

Nathan
shook his head. “That’s not how we work, Melodee Lee. You’ve been alone for far
too long. No longer will you take a single step of our journey without me by
your side.”

He captured her face in his
hand, before pressing a single, sweet kiss to her lips. Melodee fought back her
tears, lest they ruin her makeup. Nathan took Jewel from her, and with his free
hand he reached out and laced his fingers with hers.

“I’m
sorry your sister couldn’t be here for this.” He tightened his grip on her
hand. “I would love for you to have family here also.”

She
shook her head. “My family is here. I might try again with Chloe one day. I
can’t seem to completely wipe her from my mind, but right now there’s nothing
and no one else I need beside you and Jewel.”

Nathan could see that she meant every word, that she
was happy. And there was nothing more satisfying to him than her joy.

“Ready,
Mrs. Sinclair?” he said.

Melodee
laughed. “You Sinclairs, always so impatient. I’m not your wife yet.”

“In
every way that matters you are my wife.” Nathan reached out and pushed a curl
off her face. “I don’t need a piece of paper to confirm that.”

Melodee
stood on her toes so she could kiss the man who had given her everything: a
life, a home and her beautiful daughter.

“Well,
let’s do this,” she said as they pulled a part. “Together. As a team.”

And
then the three of them walked toward family and friends, the sunset at their
back and the ocean beyond them. A pretty damned good sign of the life to come.
 

***

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this book, could you do me a huge favor and post a review on Amazon and/or
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I’d
appreciate your feedback
. – Jaymin
J

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email
[email protected]

Jaymin Eve is a twenty-nine-year-old with the best job in the world.
When she’s not being a mother to two beautiful girls, you’ll find her hammering
away at her computer lost in her fantasy worlds, or traveling to far-off places
for family fun and exploration.

She’d love to hear from you, so find her at

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Or email
[email protected]

Check out Jaymin Eve’s Young Adult Paranormal Romance Series.

First World – A Walker Saga

http://amzn.com/B00E1G1U7G

I glanced over my shoulder at the approaching
darkness.
Move your butt, Abby, you’re
almost safe
.

Safe.
I’m
fooling myself but I need the pep talk. It should surprise me that this is
happening again, but unfortunately it doesn’t. Lately it’s become a regular
part of my daily routine. Get up, go to class, escape the compound and get
chased by Gangers all afternoon ... sure, just standard stuff. I really need to
find someone with a normal life, kill them and take their identity. I’m
kidding, of course. In my seventeen years, I’m yet to meet anyone with a normal
life.

I ran across the road. Where had the
footsteps that had been echoing my own hurried pace for the past twenty minutes
disappeared to? I found it unsettling that the only noise to break the silence
was my own shallow breathing.

Hesitating, I scanned the area. The
street was empty. Shadowy and unnaturally silent. I looked again in the last
rays of the setting sun. Shattered shop windows – junk piles – were the norm.
Courtesy of the current world crisis. But the gang of tattoo-faced thugs that
struck such fear in me when they attacked in Central Park were thankfully
missing. Four on one hadn’t been the best odds, but I’d managed to shake them
off and almost ... almost I was back at the compound.

Fidgeting a little, I stifled a cry of
pain. Lifting my raggedy sweater, I breathed in. I hadn’t escaped entirely
undamaged. In the still-fading light I could just make out the dark bruises
shadowing my ribs. Purple already? That was going to be a pretty sight by
morning. A rodent scuttled by – but that wasn’t causing the tenseness that
filtered into each of my muscles. I couldn’t see the source – or hear it – but
I could feel it. I wasn’t alone. Pulling down my thin top, ignoring the pain, I
tried to determine where the ambush was coming from.

It’s an understatement to say I’m not
patient. I acknowledged that. I was ready for lunch the moment I finished
breakfast, although, I thought wryly, that might have more to do with a love of
food rather than impatience. So action of any kind was my preference and I’ve
always worked on the theory that in dangerous situations there was little point
sitting around waiting for the axe to fall. A theory expertly formed through my
formative years, which were spent watching pirated old-school horror movies.
Ah, yes, the loss of television was one of the things I’ve long mourned since
the fall of New York. Funny, considering how many other things we had lost, but
escapism was harder to come by now.

So back to my current predicament. My
instincts were urging me to stop running and get off the street. Avoid the
Gangers until they moved on to some other nefarious business – which preferably
wouldn’t involve me. I was banking on their notoriously short attention spans.
Making a split-second decision, I ducked into the nearby alley.

Almost no light penetrated this far off
the main road. And even with excellent night vision I crept cautiously. The
dusky light barely highlighted the alley. It was short and dirty, with just a
few rusted-out dumpsters scattered close to a brick wall dead-end.

Bad
idea, Abby. Retreat. Retreat.

My instincts don’t usually let me down,
but the danger on the street was preferable to being caught in a dead-end
alley. Bad horror movie script.

I turned to leave, but only took two
steps before the faint sounds of feet scuffing the footpath halted my escape.
My heart skipped a beat.

Great.

I was about to become that idiot
heroine, you know the one: stupid, stacked, blond and dead. The film industry
doesn’t exist anymore, but I had watched enough old movies to know the general
plotline. Considering I was neither stacked nor blond, I might pass on that
career choice today.

I moved further into the shadows. There
were exactly two suitable dumpsters. The rusty faded red, which was emitting
suspicious rat noises; or the other, a delightful brown color, which, judging
by the smell, was home to at least two dead bodies.

Moving faster, I flipped a mental coin
before sliding in behind the red one. There was just enough space to hide.
Leaning back against the wall, I ignored the rustling and forced my tense
muscles to relax.

I tried to contain the flood of
unpleasant memories. It’s as if the moment I sit still all the negative crap
piles in on me. It still amazes me that people of the early 21
^st
century thought Earth of the future was going to be awesome. By the year 2020
we would have flying cars, talking dogs and somehow live in houses suspended in
the sky. The reality – it’s 2035 and we live in a dead zone.

Technology and communication systems –
gone.

Malls – gone.

Schools and sports – gone.

Fossil fuels and transport systems they
powered. Sigh. Gone, too.

Yep, pretty depressing.

We existed in a chaotic cycle of
militia, gangs and destruction. The Brutal Gangers – currently chasing me –
were one of the many gangs fighting for survival and power. All striving to
dominate control of food sources, drugs, human trafficking, and, of course, the
ever prevalent battle for more territory.

It was during my lifetime that the
rebels tried to regroup, to take society back. But the militia and gangs had a
strong hold. They controlled the majority of weapons, food and the only
communications system left – archaic two-wave radio. We were the rebels. We had
less numbers and no choice but to barricade ourselves into compounds, only leaving
when necessary.

Kicking back against the dumpster, I
thought briefly of raiding it for food. There wasn’t much point. I hadn’t found
anything remotely edible for months, but we were dangerously low on supplies.
We barely survived, but we were good at biding our time and being smarter.
Smarter –
sitting in various types of
gunk on the freezing ground, waiting to be beat down by some thug –
yep, smarter
.

It was about time I initiated a safer
escape from the monotony of the compound. Next time I felt a need to jog, I’d
just stay home. Strike that, I’d just stay in bed. This wasn’t my first
experience with the Brutal Gangers and probably wouldn’t be my last. I hoped my
luck wasn’t due to run out anytime soon.

It was pitch black in the alley now and
my legs were almost asleep. I’d exhausted enough patience and spent way too
long brooding. Time to make a break for it.

Easing myself free, I brushed down my
jeans, dispelling the dust and the other disgusting items I’d been sitting in.
It was a small comfort that the darkness hid the ground. Shuffling along the
alley, I headed toward the street front, discernible in the faint spectre of
light cast by one of the few working street lamps.

I paused at the end of the alley and
focused. A secret to my survival was ‘trust your instincts and use common
sense’.

Yeah, it wasn’t much of a secret, but
common sense – whew, hard to come by. Lucy always told me she’d come running
with me when I was at the survivalist level of Bear Grylls. On a scale of one
to Bear Grylls, I wasn’t even close. I missed television. No new shows had been
made past 2015, but I’d always enjoyed the oldies. No more, though. Our
television unit now housed mice and quite a few cockroaches.

I waited patiently, absorbing the
silence. It was a good sign, time to make a run for home. Easing around the
side of the alley, I breathed deeply. No time to hesitate. I took the first
step, pushing off hard from the ground. But, before I even landed, my right arm
was jerked roughly, flinging me to the side. The pressure didn’t ease. Shi...
I’d been caught. Twice in one day was a record, even for me.

A large masculine hand was wrapped
tightly around my arm, long fingers overlapping on my bicep.

I had seconds to escape.

He was alone now, but that wouldn’t last
long.

Going limp, I slumped against him.

He grunted at the unexpected force of a
hundred and thirty pounds of dead weight, and his grip eased slightly. Using my
leg muscles for leverage, I wrenched myself backwards, landing in the alley.
Pain exploded through my body as I hit the ground hard, but I had some space.
Brushing my long hair from my eyes, I scuttled down the alley. Distance was the
key to my fighting style. I’m too light and weak to have much chance if they
get their hands on me, but I am fast.

The shadowed figure had not moved from
the alley entrance.

Upon reaching the end of the path, I
stood carefully, the brick wall anchoring my back. My escape had been too easy;
there was definitely an ambush coming. I needed to take him on while he
remained unaided. That was my only chance. My much abused muscles ached in
protest and I was grateful for the amazing power of adrenalin.

I took a few steps closer, leaving the
safety of my wall. My arms hung loosely at my side, my stance relaxed and ready
for battle. I stopped halfway, ten feet from the man, his features shadowed but
discernible in the backlight.

An average man, albeit a little
weathered. His dark hair was peppered through with silver highlights and it was
cropped close to his scalp in a haphazard manner. Either his hairdresser really
sucked or he cut it himself, with a blunt knife and no mirror. It was a small
relief that he displayed no facial tattoos or clothing insignia from the local
gangs. Although, truthfully I was more comfortable with the monster I knew. The
motives of gang members I understood.

This man I did not.

 
His clothing looked tattered, an array of
brown and tan fading into each other. The shabbiness didn’t disguise their
unusual quality and style. He could have stepped off the pages of my history
books, elaborate military-style dress with large medals on each shoulder.

What was this mystery man doing on the
streets? Out here there were Gangers, the occasional lost human (dead men
walking) and the crazy homeless beggars. But this man didn’t fit any of the
profiles. A lone wolf. He emanated a unique strength and power, but more than
that, he was strangely familiar. In an almost involuntary movement, I took a
step closer. The cooling air sent chills down my spine. It was either that or
the energy pulsing in the space between us.

I was now close enough to distinguish
the dark blue of his eyes, shrewd and perceptive. On top of that his commanding
and charismatic presence dominated the space. What a plethora of
contradictions. This familiarity was crazy; I had never known anyone but the
rebels from my compound. So what was my connection to him?

And then it hit me. Figuratively
speaking.

I’d been probably nine years old, I
guess. It was only the second time I’d escaped the compound. The situation in
New York was not as bad then, but being a child I’d had more restrictions. The
first ten minutes had been fun and uneventful. But then I’d noticed a group of
men standing near Central Park. Unsure of the situation and worried for my
safety, I decided to make my way home. It had been near this very street that I
locked eyes with a man. This man. I was sure of it now.

The same warmth ... the same strength ...
the same sense of safety had reached across the space to me.

As a child, I hadn’t even hesitated,
stepping onto the road toward him. I’d taken three steps before he’d smiled
sadly, lifted his hand in a wave, and taken off into the park.

The memory had stayed with me for years,
gradually fading until now. I guess any psychiatrist would assure me he was the
reason I ran the streets: I had been searching for him.

Standing here, eight years later, he
still evoked feelings of warmth and safety. And my curiosity would not be
denied. My sensible side was demanding over and over that I move my butt out of
there, but, if I hadn’t listened for seventeen years, I wasn’t about to start
now.

He didn’t seem dangerous. Just standing
there – silently.

So, I conveniently ignored that he’d
grabbed me only five minutes before. What did I have to lose?

Don’t
answer that question.

Since my escape from his clutches, he
had made no attempt to approach me again. Usually this would be to lull me into
a false sense of security. But the vibe I was getting was the opposite. I
tapped my foot reflexively. For the world’s most impatient person, it had reached
the point where I couldn’t stand the silent staring any longer.

Time to speak up.

What’s the worst that could happen?
Yeah, I threw that out into the universe ... I liked living on the edge.

“Strange man with horrible haircut,” I
acknowledged his presence, “who are you and what do you want?” My words cut
through the semi-darkness.

There was a subtle change as my words
broke our stare-off. His muscles tensed, as if expecting a confrontation. I
tilted my head to the side. It seemed important to hear him speak; I felt like
I had been waiting my entire life for this moment. His lips turned up at the
corners.

“Fiery redhead, with an attitude.”

I smiled at his words. He had a sense of
humor. How refreshing.