Duality (Cordelia Kelly #1): Empath Urban Fantasy (11 page)

“I've never had an emotional connection with any of my partners. Not really. I always craved that level of intimacy, but never achieved it. I don't want to be lonely anymore. Will you make love to me, Sol?” I didn't notice I'd started to cry again.

He gently wiped my tears and whispered, “You are my light. My beacon when I am lost. You call to me in a way I can’t ignore.”

“Will you hold me, please? I need to feel connected. I need quiet and peace. I’m on fire.” I laughed a little. “Literally and figuratively.”

“There is no way I could hug you, snuggle with you, spoon with you and not desperately want to make love to you or fuck you—probably both at the same time. Is that what you want, Cordelia? You have to be sure.”

“So do you, Sol.”

“Would you like to know my real name?” he whispered into my ear as he bent down low and put his arms under me.

“Sol isn’t your real name?”

He shook his head, scooped me up off the floor, and uttered, “I’ve never told anyone my given name. It’s Sisko. Sisko Solomon Winterborn,” he said as he carried me towards the bedroom.

I tasted his name on my tongue, the sweet and sour mix settled into my memory bank, and rightness eased the burning.

“What would you like me to call you?”

He gave me a devilish look as he tossed me on the bed. “Right now, you can call me, ‘Sir’.”

"For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul." 
~Judy Garland

“I want—” I snapped my mouth shut, looked away, and stared out the window into the pre-dawn morning. The world outside remained in the grey void, the peaceful moment before the sunrise cast the demons out of the world and sunshine ruled the earth once more.

“What do you want?” he asked as he crawled over me onto the bed and lay beside me.

Unsure how to answer without giving myself away, without giving him a way to hurt me, I continued to stare out the paned glass as tiny rays of color peeked through the rain splatter and peppered my floor with prisms of unfiltered happiness.

He reached over and grabbed my chin, pulling my face back toward his, and I helplessly locked eyes with him, his aura tugging me deeper, holding me closer, forging a bond so deep in love I barely saw straight.

“Tell me, Cordelia.” He rolled his large body over mine, and his heat permeated me on every level. Physical, mental, internal, all my passions ignited.

He rested on his arms above me, and his strength called to the primal being inside. A complex layer I didn’t fully understand because I’d never experienced this deep and profound ache in my life. In the honest moments of my mind, I feared he would break me when he left. I feared giving him the power to hurt me, but I had no choice. The words wanted to escape and move into his heart.

A small piece of me still believed in hope. However minute or unattainable hope seemed, I wanted the childlike wonder. “I want you to love me. I need someone who needs me. But most of all, I know you understand me, and I crave that bond so much that when I’m with you, it’s all I feel. It consumes me. Fires me. Eats at my fine tuned control until there is nothing left of me, but the feel of you in my bones.”

He clasped my hand and brought it up to his chest, pressing me against his heart as he closed his eyes. Wave after wave of warmth and joy cascaded over me, racing from his hand into my hand, from his heart, down his arms and into my body where the energy circled and settled everywhere it touched—sweet like honey and soft like cotton candy.

As I watched, his pupils dilated, and the warm color of his eyes bled to black. He smiled with such a boyish grin I melted further. “I love you the way I’ve always wanted to love someone. Without any reservations.”

“What do we do now?”

He pressed his forehead against mine. “I have no idea. I’ve never experienced this before. I’ve spent my whole life searching, feeling like something vital was missing, but had no clue what I needed until I touched you.”

“How did this happen so quickly?”

“I don’t know, Cordelia. One minute I traveled alone and weary. The next moment you slid under my shields and into my heart and soul. You’re the missing puzzle piece I’ve longed for. I’m not going to question why. We just are.”

A buzz started in my toes and plaited its way around my legs, up my thighs, caressed my stomach, and zeroed in on my heart that pumped blood faster and faster. The buzz became a roar, like a thousand bees swarming to protect their hive and queen, an endless and piercing sound. My mind was blissfully blank as every ounce of blood fired, and I trembled.

“Will you tell me of your mother?” I asked with some hesitation, unsure whether he trusted me enough to share, but also because I needed a reprieve, something to occupy my mind. Small talk to settle the rolling waves.

Sol eased down beside me, and I rolled over and buried my face against his chest. He stroked my hair and down my back. His chest heaved. Then he blew out his breath. “My mother was a product of a Light Royal mating with a human female. She lived for sixty years, until she had gray hair and wrinkled skin. She was lovely.” He didn’t utter any more words, but a soft calm radiated from his fingertips, allaying my worries, fears, aches and pains.

The slow kindle melted me as if I was a pan of chocolate chips on a stove, and I closed my eyes as waves of comfort washed over me.

“I love you, Cordelia Kelly,” he whispered so softly as I settled in his arms, I wasn’t sure he’d said the words at all. "We're not only soul mates, you're my twin-flame."

The dream started so eerily, like they always did. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep until a dense fog eased around my peripheral vision and I became an observer in my dreamscape.

She sat rigid in her favorite chair and stared out the window, silently weeping away the pain and turmoil. Thoughts drifted and spun, too fast to latch onto. Then they escaped—fat, cool tears dripped down her cheeks and added to the sadness overwhelming her heart. Her soul leaked the agony she held within, never showing the world how she suffered inside.

Her friends assumed her bright smile and soothing words were natural and internal when in reality they were projected. A facade she cultivated to hide the scared girl, and the sensitive woman afraid to let go and let anyone get too close. The whispered words from her mother cloying around in her brain, “You are cold, Cordelia, and you will never be happy.”

Outside, the night’s icy slush covered the ground, creating a white world of cold. Barren trees swayed and creaked with the swirling wind; each snap made her body jerk and reminded her of her failures. The weaker branches splintered and fell all around her home from the massive chaos she contained within her spirit. She trembled violently as strife poured out of her and she watched, helpless to stop its destructive force.

“Go outside,” the wind whispered as the gentle puffs of air rustled her tattered dress, and she stood on shaky legs.

She opened the door and walked out into the early, brisk, frigid morning. Her breath made long streams of steam as she stepped barefoot onto the stone path leading to the forest. Her heart hammered a mélange, and every step stung her delicate feet, yet she continued on, the gradual numbness drowning out the myriad of sensations she no longer wished to feel.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she murmured up into the dark sky. She flung her arms out like wings, tilted her head back as she closed her eyes, then dropped to her knees, and opened the floodgates to her heart.

And let her soul beg.

The dream ended almost on a curtain closing, just poof and gone. The smoke tarried as I merged in and out of the darkness. Then I inhaled the earthen spice of consciousness, but refrained from opening my eyes. Tears threatened my sanity, the mental images from sleep still lingering in my thoughts, and I pressed closer to Sol.

His deep and even cadence calmed my thrumming heart and exposed nerves, and after a few moments, our breaths mingled with the same rhythm and soothed me back into a light healing sleep.

The high-pitched ring of a cell phone woke me up out of my slumber, and Sol stretched on the bed before I heard him answer with a gruff, “Hello.”

A nanosecond later he bolted upright and sprung from the bed, clamoring around my bedroom grabbing his things. He spoke in a language I didn’t know, and it pissed me off to no end as I watched his tirade as he strode through my home. I debated whether to get up or stay under the warmth of the covers.

He closed the phone then turned to me with his eyes fever bright and glowing, exposing the predator in him. Tendrils of fear danced up my spine at the haunted sight.

“I have to go.” He came to me on light feet, leaned down, and pressed his lips to my forehead.

I projected my energy out to meet him. Worry, love, affection—all mixed and ready to offer aide should he require my brand of nurturing.

He closed his eyes and lingered before whispering, “Thank you,” as his body shuddered, and he left my bedroom in a flourish.

The front door nicked closed, and I found myself in bed alone.

As I laid there pondering what had just happened and wondering if Sol was okay, I also thought about the fact we still hadn’t had sex yet. Would we ever have sex?

I ran through my yoga poses to calm my nerves and out of control hormones. I pressed shuffle on my music player then laughed as an idea came to me. Perhaps I should make a playlist for when Sol and I do make love. I figured he’d be back at some point today, so I started in earnest. Tonight would be his lucky night.

A thought struck me and I bound from the bed heading straight towards the living room, but there was no one on the couch. No sign of Zach. My throw blankets were folded and placed over the sofa, the cushions all arranged properly. I walked around and there, lying were Zach had been the night before was a note.

"I took Zach." Scribbled in a barely legible masculine scrawl. Signed with just an 'S', my mind started racing with questions. I guess I'd just have to wait and talk to him when he got back.

★★
★

The house lay quiet as I puttered around preparing a nice evening in with Sol. I’d made dinner, set out wine glasses, and chopped his favorite fruit to put in the salad. Only thing missing was the man himself. I figured he'd be home around dark.

“What the hell kind of name is kumquat?” I said as I sliced the tiny little oranges into thin round pieces and tossed them in the field greens.

I prepared my evening around a movie and dinner, so I picked out, 'Dirty Dancing'. Though truthfully, I hoped we weren’t going to be doing much watching. I smiled and continued setting the table with food.

The door chimed and two loud raps followed. I set the dishes down, humming as I dried my hands on the towel over my shoulder and walked to the door, turning the lock and opening it with a huge smile. “Welcome ho—Oh.”

The two men who greeted me wore hound dog lips and grim eyes. “Ma’am? May we come in?”

I stared at the police officers, my brain feverishly working. “Officers? What’s this about?”

“I’m Lieutenant Jeffreys. This is Detective Fox, and we’re here about Dixon Sharpe.” They watched my face for any sign of knowledge, for a shred of evidence. I slipped my calm mask into place and gave them a small smile full of warmth.

“Dixon? Is he all right?” I cocked my head to the side and furrowed my brows for effect. For a moment, my heart slowed and every fear I’d ever faced surfaced, but I swallowed them down. They didn’t know anything. I trusted Sol.

“Ma’am, when was the last time you saw Dixon?”

Tricky. I’d have to be honest. “I saw him two nights ago. We had a date at a Le Tres on Fifth. We left and were on our way back to his apartment, but he started to not feel well, so he dropped me off instead. I think I got home around ten. Why? Is he okay? Did something happen to Dixon?” I let my eyes widen and my lip quiver. “He’s such a nice man.”

The officers glanced at each other. A silent communication took place—one honed from years of working together. The Lieutenant spoke with a detached coolness, “We regret to inform you that Dixon Sharpe died on Wednesday evening.”

I clutched my chest and said, “Oh my God! What happened? Was there a break in? Did he fall? You must be mistaken.” I patted my pockets and looked around in a mad rush. “Let me call him. You’ll see. He’s fine. Dixon’s fine.”

“Ma’am. He’s dead,” the detective said in a soothing, calm tone. “How was he when he brought you home?”

“I need to sit. Can I sit? Would you like some coffee? Tea? Please, come in.” I left the door open and flew to the kitchen in a flurry. Putting on a good show for the fine police of Connecticut. I opened and closed cabinets, started and stopped talking. Waved my hands around.

I turned back to the doorway where they stood, plain clothes and badges around their necks. A second ticked by then another as I pretended to calm myself and I opened my third eye to peer at their auras. A sea of blues and greens swirled around their forms, a misty grey twining in their essence. They seemed legit and didn’t show fear, anger, or rage.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered and visibly took a deep breath. “He'd had a headache. We left the restaurant in a hurry because he was a little nauseous. He’d said his shoulder was bothering him. How maybe he’d tweaked his chest muscles or something working out. He wanted to put some ice on it, take some ibuprofen. When we got into his car, the pain had gotten worse, so he brought me home.” I attempted to look a bit put out, like I wasn’t used to being tossed out on my ass on a date. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“He had a heart attack. He called 911, but by the time the paramedics arrived, he’d already passed away. I’m sorry.”

“I should have stayed with him! I shouldn’t have left him alone. Oh my god, it’s my fault!” My eyed welled with tears, real tears because it
was
my fault, and I was a little sad he was dead.

The detective stepped closer and tried to soothe me. “Is there anyone you’d like us to call for you?” He glanced around and noticed my dining table set for two.

“No. No. I have a friend coming over soon. I’ll be okay. It’s just such a shock. I just saw him and now he’s gone. It’s so sad.”

“Thank you for your time, ma’am,” the lieutenant said. “If we need anything further, we’ll be in touch.”

I nodded my head and walked back to the door, my hands shaking and my tears pooling. “Okay. Thank you, officers.”

After they left, I locked the door and went to sit on the couch. I was lightheaded and weary. I needed Sol. He’d be here soon. I grabbed the throw blanket and couch pillow and curled up on my side, waiting.