Gabriel's Hope (#1, Rhyn Eternal) Page 4

By Saturday morning, Deidre was certain she never wanted to leave the ocean. She plopped an omelet onto Logan’s plate then turned around to make her own.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it,” she said, grinning.

  “Nothing has gotten into me,” he replied in a deadpan voice. He ate without waiting for her, his eyes either glued to her or the door.

  “I guess the sea breeze is good for the libido,” she continued. “You’re a demon in the sack this weekend. Reminds me of when we just met.”

  “You think I’m a demon?”

  She glanced at him. Was he offended or surprised? Deidre rolled her eyes without answering and went back to cooking her breakfast. She breathed in the ocean air. The bungalow cost as much as to rent for the weekend as a month of her apartment, but she’d never been happier.

  “I never realized how much I missed nature. I’ve lived in Atlanta since I started college. Do you ever miss the countryside?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “I really like it here.”

  She should definitely stay longer. She thought about it as she sprinkled cheese into the skillet. It wasn’t like she was saving her money for anything. She’d be dead soon anyway.

  No apologies, no regrets, she repeated the mantra she adopted when Wynn first diagnosed her as terminal.

  “You want to stay here for the whole week?” she asked.

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Isn’t it the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen?”

  “The lack of security is unsettling. There are no locks on the doors or windows, and only one route of egress in the case of an emergency.”

  Okay, the sex was phenomenal last night, but their conversations had gone further downhill. Logan was an accountant, not a security guard, yet he barricaded the doors with furniture before bed in case there were criminals wandering the beach. He flat out refused to go out after dark last night.

  “Whatever. It’s a full moon tonight,” she said hopefully.

  “Yes.” His voice was thoughtful.

  She dumped her omelet onto her plate and faced him, leaning against the counter to eat. He’d inhaled his breakfast. His green eyes were distant. At under six feet tall, Logan was still almost half a foot taller than she was.

  “Bonfire?” she prodded. “Or, you know, just a quickie in the moonlight.”

  “No, I think I’m going to town tonight.”

  “Good idea. We can go out.”

  “No, just me.”

  “Care to explain why you want to go out on a Saturday night without your girlfriend?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

  “I’m ah … not sure.” He didn’t look at her. “I’ll be back Monday.”

  And then it hit her. Monday was their two year anniversary. He was going to propose. Deidre almost dropped her breakfast. She told him a million times there was no way she was going to marry him then turn around and die. They argued about marriage for weeks before he finally went silent on the matter. She’d thought he dropped it; maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he figured she’d change her mind if she saw a ring.

  He was in for a surprise if he tried. Angry at him again, she realized she’d been trying to work up the courage to break up with him for weeks. She had a private bucket list she didn’t show him, one with things on it she wasn’t sure she should want. Like, hooking up with a stranger at a bar like they did in movies and a few sex positions she’d been subtly trying to talk him into.

  Unsuccessfully.

  She was a few weeks out from never having these opportunities again.

  “Okay,” she said. “Have fun.”

  He looked relieved. She felt relieved. As much as she cared for him, he was driving her crazy the past few months. He didn’t seem to get it. Her bucket list was getting longer while her time was getting shorter. He wanted to mourn and tread water until the inevitable. She wanted to do everything she’d ever wanted.

  “You want to walk to the farmer’s market this morning?” she asked.

  He hesitated then said, “No.”

  “Okay,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll see you later.”

  She couldn’t really be irritated with him. He was, after all, taking time off work during the busiest time of the year for an accountant to be with her. It counted for something but did nothing to soothe her anger.

  Dressed in a sundress and sandals, Deidre left the bungalow on the beach and walked down the long driveway to the small road. She marveled at the world, the gentle sunshine, beautiful sky, the fragrant ocean breeze that ruffled her pink-striped blond hair, the soft crunch of gravel beneath her shoes. This was the most perfect place in the world.

  The farmers market was teeming with the locals and makeshift booths lining a cordoned off section of the beach town nearby. She meandered through it, absorbing the life around her. Fresh produce, homemade foods, handmade crafts and soaps. She touched, smelled and tasted everything she could, determined to remember every pleasurable part of every day she had left. The homemade ice cream stand drew her attention, and she crossed to it.

  “Can I help …” he stopped.

  Deidre glanced up with a smile. The guy behind the counter was staring at her, his mouth lax and his eyes wide. For the second time in as many days, she thought she saw red tattoos flash. They faded as she looked directly at them. Were these the first of the hallucinations Dr. Wynn warned her about?

  “Are you here for me?” he whispered.

  “Um, no,” she turned to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else. “Just for ice cream.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “That’s kinda why I came to an ice cream stand,” she said with a laugh.

  “What flavor?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “No. I don’t want to upset you.”

  Deidre looked over the flavors. She pointed out two finally. His hands shook as he scooped them into a bowl. She took it and handed him a five dollar bill.

  “On me.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “Just, ah, remember that. Make it quick when I’m up.”

  Flustered, Deidre nodded and walked away with her ice cream. The woman she saw in downtown Atlanta had reacted to her the same way. Unwilling to let the weirdness ruin her day, Deidre dismissed the strange exchange, distracted by the smells coming from a display of homemade candles. She went down the line, smelling everything, until one candle in particular caught her attention.

  “Smells good enough to eat!” she said to the lady sitting behind the table.

  “Pecan pie.”

  She bought it then moved on. She passed three face painting clowns before she gave in and decided to have her own done. By the time she reached the beach house, her face was Smurf blue and she was laboring under the weight of the treasures she’d found. She walked in and paused in the doorway, listening.

  “Logan?”

  No answer. He hadn’t texted her to say he was going out before heading to Atlanta this evening.

  “This is getting old, Logan,” she said with a sigh. Deidre piled everything on the kitchen counters and pulled out the candle. She lit it and set it on the back porch. Sitting down with a book, she propped her feet up on the table and relaxed, calmed by the sounds of the ocean and the warm sun. Eventually, she dozed off.

  The candle’s wick popped loudly enough to wake her awhile later. It was past dusk, and bonfires were springing up down the beach. Deidre grunted at how stiff her legs were. She twisted to see into the beach house. The lights were off. Logan wasn’t home. A glance at her phone made her roll her eyes.

  She was beginning to think he wasn’t going to propose. He’d walked out on her. The hot sex, strange distance he put between them, sudden disappearance.

  Yeah, he wasn’t coming back.

  She wasn’t sure she cared. Deidre flipped on the lights in the bungalow and made herself stir fry with the fresh veggies she’d bought that day. The neighbors were having a party around a huge bonfire
. The muffled beats of music thumped through her open windows. She watched them with a smile as she cooked.

  She ate her dinner on the back porch then wandered out onto the beach barefooted. The ocean was cold, and wet sand squished between her toes. She walked down the beach opposite the party, gaze alternating between the ocean at her feet and the full moon climbing into the sky. Wind tossed her hair, and she tied it up in a bun. The sweet scent of rotting seaweed made her nose wrinkle. She glanced towards the brush and shrubs of an unkempt lot, where a crumbling foundation of an old beach house remained.

  The beach ahead of her was open and dark. She grinned, pretending it was all hers. Deidre sat and dropped onto her back, staring up at the sky. She lay there for a few minutes, content.

  “It’s not safe out here for you to be alone.” The voice was low and quiet. She didn’t hear him approach, but he sounded close.

  She rolled onto her stomach to see who spoke. The man standing in the weedy area of the lot was tall and thick, dressed in a trench coat, black clothing and heavy boots. His features were partially illuminated by the moonlight: a chiseled jaw and cheekbones, dark eyes and neatly trimmed, dark hair. The other half of his face was stuck in the shadows, giving him a surreal appearance, as if he had one foot in a different world. The breeze ruffling the curls that escaped from her bun went around him, not touching his coat.

  “I’m good,” she said.

  “Famous last words.”

  She laughed, knowing he couldn’t possibly understand why she found it funny.

  “Water sprite or human?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

  “What? Why …Ooohhh.” she touched her face, recalling the stop at the clown’s booth. Her face was stiff and blue while her hair was hot pink. “It’s face paint.”

  “Interesting.”

  She ducked her head to hide her smile. The way he said it, he didn’t find it interesting at all.

  “Sorry to disappoint you.” She rolled onto her back again. “Sit with me?”

  “No.”

  “Alright.”

  There was a pause. “You’re going to ignore my warning, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” The stars were brilliant this evening. Absorbed by the sight, she began to think he left as quietly as he arrived. The stranger’s dark form came into her peripheral. He sat a couple of feet from her.

  He was bigger than he looked from a distance, the size of a linebacker. His elbows were propped on his knees, the trench falling back to show a lean body, flat stomach and muscular thighs outlined by the soft material of his pants. She thought she saw the glint of weapons lining his trench. While she didn’t fear dying anymore, she was in no hurry to die, either. She’d passed through that stage after a few months and decided to make – and fulfill – her bucket list.

  “Have you ever met a water sprite?” she asked.

  “Once.”

  Yeah, the serial killer lunatic was probably going to kill her tonight. Did she have any regrets? She thought for a long moment. Just one: not dumping Logan before coming to the beach this weekend. Her eyes went to the chiseled features of the man sitting near her. He was handsome, with olive skin and eyes that looked as dark as the ocean. He was also too grave to appreciate the gorgeous night.

  “What’re you thinking about?” she asked.

  “The day job.”

  “Oh, no,” she told him. “The moon is full, the sky full of stars.” She breathed in deeply. “I love the smell of the ocean. You can’t sit here on such a beautiful night and think about the day job.”

  “I suppose.”

  “I’m going to guess you kill people for a living,” she said, eyes on what was definitely a line of small throwing knives and was that a sword lining the thigh on the far side? “Not judging. Just saying, take a break and look around.”

  He looked at her hard. She returned her gaze to the sky at the awkward silence that fell.

  “Are you drunk?” he asked at last.

  “No. Just happy to be alive.”

  “That makes one of us.” The dry note in his voice made her think he had his own inside joke. “You’re not drunk. You’re not a water sprite, and you’re not afraid to be alone on a beach with a man you think murders people.”

  “You know pretty much everything there is to know about me,” she said, laughing. “My turn. You’re an off-duty serial killer with an affinity for weapons with blades who believes in imaginary creatures and takes the time to talk to crazy women lying on the beach.”

  “Everything but off-duty.”

  “That does not bode well for me.”

  “You’re not on my list tonight.”

  “Glad to hear. Not fearing for my life is a total turn on,” she retorted.

  He laughed. The sound was rough, as if he didn’t laugh often.

  “There you go,” she said. “Life’s too short to waste a night like this.”

  He met her gaze. Deidre was surprised to feel her body grow warm from the inside out. She’d never been turned on by a look, though if anyone could do it, the intense man beside her could. Her face grew hot under his scrutiny, and she was grateful for the face paint covering her blush.

  “You’re right,” he said at last, a trace of a smile pulling up the corners of his full lips. “What’re you thinking about?”

  “Oh, you don’t want to know,” she said with a sigh.

  “I asked, didn’t I?” It came out as a growl.

  “You don’t talk to women much, do you?”

  “Answer, woman.”

  She smiled. “Death. I’m thinking about death.”

  He went still, the humor fading from his features.

  “Kinda puts a damper on any conversation,” she said. “I’ve got a few things left on my bucket list. I was thinking about working a couple of them in this week.”

  “Why?”

  “Obvious, isn’t it? I’m dying.”

  “Then why are you so happy?”

  “Because I’m not dead yet,” she said.

  His gaze went to the ocean. Deidre felt bummed. He was disturbed. She’d pushed down his walls then driven them back up.

  “You’re brave,” he said.

  “I realized that to appreciate what I had left, I had to let go of everything,” she said with a shrug. “No apologies, no regrets.”

  “What’s on your bucket list?”

  She was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I want to go skydiving. And successfully make a soufflé. Visit the Grand Canyon, travel to Scotland, hot air balloon ride. You know those Christmas lights that are shaped like red chili peppers?”

  He snorted. “Yeah.”

  “I want those in my kitchen. I’ve always liked those,” she murmured, pensive.

  “What else?”

  “Some of them are really stupid.”

  “People who say that mean the opposite.”

  “You really want to know?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay then. Skinny dipping. Making love in the moonlight on the beach. Sex in a hot tub or shower. You know I’ve never been on top? I bookmarked a few pages in the Kamasutra for things I’d like to try, but I’m too afraid to show anyone.” She stopped. “I should not have mentioned that. I made this really awkward.”

  “It’s just getting interesting,” he replied. “I like this bucket list better. Bet I could show you a few things you won’t find in the Kamasutra.”

  “Well, what’re we waiting for?” she replied without thinking. “Let’s go!”

  “I’m game,” he said, laughing quietly. “Though I’m wondering why you’re alone on a beach in the moonlight without someone to make love to you with a bucket list like that.”

  “Oh, god. I’ve humiliated myself,” she mumbled.

  Suddenly self-conscious, she touched her face. It felt hot. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so honest or embarrassed, and in front of a complete stranger! No wonder he asked her if she was drunk. Something about him made her fe
el comfortable, or she wouldn’t be sitting alone with a man dressed like the angel of death on the beach after dark, revealing secrets she didn’t tell her boyfriend of two years.

  “I’m so sorry. I think I’m gonna go.” Deidre stood to leave. He caught her wrist, and a strange energy moved up her arm. She paused, the unfamiliar sensation a combination of adrenaline that made her blood quicken and electricity that made her skin tingle. It fascinated her.

  “Stay. Please,” he said, letting her go. “This is the first good night I’ve had in forever.”

  She shivered, as much from the warm current working its way through her body as the cold ocean breeze. The sense he wasn’t wholly of this world returned. It should’ve scared her. Instead, it made him different enough to be like her: a shadow on the fringe of society. Without knowing anything about him, she had the uncanny impression they were a lot alike in how alone they were.

  He was the first real person she’d ever met.

  She sat near him. The man stretched out his legs in front of him. He pulled her closer to him, until their sides were pressed together, then released her as the weird energy fluttered through her. Her sense of self-consciousness grew as the physical contact made her appreciative of the size and heat of his body. His strength was the kind she could almost imagine herself melting into. Unlike Logan, this man wouldn’t hesitate or complain about holding her on the days when the pain was too much. His strength was constant but steady. He took in the world with thought.

  Why did she feel like she knew him?

  “How are you going to do it?” he asked.

  Startled, Deidre’s gaze went from the muscular legs to his face. He was looking at her, as if he already knew.

  “I’m guessing in a week. Maybe two,” he said.

  She said nothing.

  “Something simple and quick. You’re brave, but you’re terrified as well. You don’t want to give yourself a second chance to think it over.”

  He held her gaze as he spoke. His dark eyes were fathomless in the moonlight. He saw through her, pushed down the barriers of her soul and stepped back to examine it. The sensation left her feeling exposed.

  “Your face may be blue and your hair pink, but I don’t see you doing anything messy, like taking a shotgun to the head.” He considered her. “You’ll go somewhere on your bucket list. Grand Canyon. You’re a jumper.”

  Who the hell was this guy?

  “Bingo,” he said, reading the expression on her face. He looked out to sea again.

  Deidre felt the release of whatever strange magic he had. Part of her wanted to lean against him, knowing he wouldn’t turn her away. She resisted, already too aware of him physically.

  “What gave it away?” she asked in a hushed tone.

  “Nothing anyone else can see.”

  His response made her think she wasn’t far off in thinking he’d at least read her mind.

  “If it helps, death is indiscriminate,” he added. “Everyone dies. It’s nothing personal.”

  “Spoken like someone on the other end of the equation,” she said, offended by his casual dismissal. “So you figured out my plan.” She moved to face him, distracted by the fact he shifted his body to keep from breaking their physical contact. Though she’d rather not be trapped by the eyes that made her blood quicken, she forced herself to look at him.

  He studied her, waiting.

  “Death is the most universal experience possible, true, but it’s also the most personal. There’s nothing else on the planet that forces you to really see and accept who you are as the day the doctor says you’re dying. You have to make a choice that day: to continue living or to start mourning,” she started angrily.

  The stranger was silent, gaze riveted to her.

  “Death lets you see the stars and the moon instead of how dark the night is. It teaches compassion, because sitting on the bus, I know the person beside me is someday going to have to search his soul the same way I did, so I don’t mind that he’s spilling his coffee on my shoes. My new shoes.” She grimaced at the memory. “Knowing what’s coming, I’ve never felt more alive than I do now.”

  When she stopped, the sound of waves filled the quiet.

  “I made this awkward again, didn’t I?” she said, embarrassed once more by the passion she put into her speech.

  “Not for me,” he replied. His eyes were warm, his features losing their gravity as he gave a genuine smile. “I don’t know why our paths crossed tonight, but I’m glad they did.”

  “Really? I’m not freaking you out?”

  “I admire your spirit and your passion. You make me feel human again.”

  “Good, I think,” she replied.

  They gazed at one another, the tension growing thicker.

  “Is kissing a stranger on the beach under the full moon on your bucket list?” he whispered.

  Definitely. Warmth bloomed within her while her heart beat with more excitement than a moth outside a lighted window. Surprised at her body’s eagerness, Deidre said nothing.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  She nodded. She found herself leaning into him in anticipation. Her time was too short to turn away a tall, dark, handsome, intriguing, dangerous stranger she met on the beach in the moonlight who smelled good. She closed her eyes.

  The stranger’s kiss was light, his full lips warm and soft. The strange energy hummed through her again, and she became aware of new sensations she’d never noticed with anyone else. He smelled like dark chocolate, spices and man, a combination that ensnared her senses and made her want to taste him. The heat of his body sank through her clothes, and the idea of his hot skin pressed to hers made her lower belly burn.

  He withdrew long before she was ready for him to. She opened her eyes. Their faces were inches away, his fingers tracing a line of warm electricity down her jaw.

  “Okay?” he asked, voice husky.

  “Yeah.”

  “I got time. You got a one night stand on your bucket list?”

  Her breath caught in her chest.

  “You can be on top,” he added. “Once. There’s a few other things I have I mind.”

  Deidre laughed, uncertain what else to do. This was too crazy, even for her, and yet she wanted to unwrap the mysterious man before her and experience his heat, his strength. She wanted to feel his large hands on her body and to find out what it was about him that made her feel like he was the only real person she’d ever met.

  “You’ll face down death but not spend the night with me?” he teased.

  She kissed him. His response was hungrier, deeper. He opened to her, and she was thrilled to find he tasted as good as he smelled. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his body. Deidre yielded, alarmed but yearning. The desire lighting her body was hot and aching, as if her body innately knew how well he’d satisfy her.

  She was lost in a haze of heat and dark spices, of his hot kisses and solid strength, until his touch left her. Dazed, she was surprised to find they were standing in the bedroom of the bungalow. She didn’t remember walking there. Moonlight streamed through one window while the rest of the house was dark. Before she could ponder how they’d gotten there, she felt his heat again. Deidre touched him tentatively, awed by his size and the gentleness of his touch.

  His large hands slid down her bare arms and settled on her hips, drawing her against his body. She shuddered, enthralled by the sensations running through her. She didn’t even reach his chin. It was like being drunk, but on a person, not alcohol.

  “Okay?” he asked again.

  She tilted her head back to meet his gaze and smiled. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, no. You’re mine tonight.”

  There was something primal in his low growl that made her body boil. She felt delicate and feminine in his arms. This was the way it was supposed to be. He was the way it was supposed to be.

  His next kiss was consuming, hungry yet sweet, teasing her with
a hint of promise and driving her body to new heights of awareness. She needed to feel his bare body against hers, ached for his hot hands to brand her as his. She wanted to wake up with his scent ingrained in her skin.

  Lost to him already, Deidre sank into his world, not caring if it was the last night of her life, if she spent it with him.

  Chapter Four