Destiny Gift

by Juliana Haygert

  It made sense. Though how could he not care that the world was drowning in darkness and every living creature was in the path of death?

  The image of his possessed face as he killed his parents’ killer flashed before my eyes.

  I approached him and, careful with my words and tone, said, “What happened when you killed those men?” At his raised eyebrow, I hurried on. “I mean, in the vision, you looked … not yourself.”

  “One more question to which I don’t know the answer. Like you said, I wasn’t myself. The sight of my parents dead beside me was too much. I was out of control.”

  Like when he had attacked me in my closet and almost strangled me. I don’t know if he could also read minds, but he looked up at me, regret flickering in his black eyes. “I’m sorry about the way I acted at your apartment. I was trying to get you out of there, safe and sound, and you were making it so hard. I don’t know what came over me.” His eyes were focused on mine, causing my breath to catch. “I’m sorry.”

  I nodded. “It’s okay,” I whispered before disappearing into the bathroom. Besides dying for a shower, I needed to get away from the temptation of lying with him in that bed.

  When I went back to the room, the temptation grew. Micah wore only jeans, which left his chest and chiseled muscles apparent. And his tattoos sucked me in. He had a coiled snake on his left shoulder, four lines of Hebrew writing over his chest, and tribal drawings to the side of his abdomen, which spread onto his back.

  I averted my gaze, my cheeks growing hot.

  “Hi, darling,” he said, deliberately provoking me.

  I stopped in front of the mirror to comb my hair. “It’s not that warm in here.”

  “I know.” He chuckled, adding to my irritation. “I need your touch and thought being shirtless would make the deal more attractive. Plus, you would want me more.”

  With my jaw practically on the ground, I turned to him. “Want you more? Are you insane?”

  “No.” He sat at edge of the bed near me. That was when I saw his hands shaking. “Could you come here and help me?” he asked, his tone nicer but more urgent.

  Disregarding his gigantic ego, I walked the few steps to him and extended my hand. Even if I wasn’t tempted, he needed me to become healthier. He grabbed my hand and, with one corner of his lips curling up, he pulled me closer, resting my palm on his brawny chest.

  The cold shock spread from my skin to his before I could protest. For a moment, I forgot I was touching his body, and relished the refreshing sensation that came with the healing ability. It was like a relieving twinkling sensation crawling under my skin, taking me over. Pressing my hand with his, he moaned, eyes shut and head tilted back.

  The cold diminished slowly, until it was gone. Still holding my hand to his chest, he opened his eyes and looked straight at me—through me.

  “Are you better?” My voice broke, my breathing uneven.

  Nodding, he gripped my other wrist. He pulled me until I was standing between his legs, less than two inches from him. His gaze never left mine as he stood, brushing his body against mine. My heart skipped a beat.

  He leaned into me, but I pulled back. He put his hand behind my neck. “You want this,” he whispered, his breath, mixing with his scent, poisoning my mind.

  “No,” I said, putting my arms against his chest to push him back. Who was I kidding? He was super hot and into me at this exact moment. Of course I wanted this. But, would I still think I wanted this when I saw Victor the next day? Until I met Micah, the Victor in my visions had been the only guy in my life.

  Micah pulled me to him and leaned down. He wasn’t as subtle or gentle or slow as Victor was in my dreams. He was direct and rough and damned sexy. His lips brushed against mine, but a knock on the door made me jump back.

  He grunted. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” Victor said.

  My eyes went wide, and I ran to the door and propped it open. Victor sloped against the doorframe, his face white and his breathing irregular.

  “Oh God, what is it?” I reached to him, passing my arm around his waist and helping him in.

  “Pain,” he whispered between gritted teeth. I helped him sit on the bed.

  Micah stood before the window, still shirtless, fuming and pacing, not looking back.

  “Did I interrupt something?” Victor raised his eyebrows, glancing from Micah to me.

  “No,” I exclaimed, hoping I wasn’t blushing.

  Victor extended his hand to me. “Please, could you help me?”

  Without answering, I took his hand in mine and almost fell on my knees when the warmth took over me, sending strong feelings to my core. God, he was so weak!

  In the depths of healing, I heard Micah murmur, “I’m gonna take a walk.”

  Victor ended up taking more of my energy than I realized. After, I plopped down on the bed beside him, sleepy.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, glancing sideways at me. “Does it hurt you?”

  “No.” At least, I didn’t feel anything. “I’m just a little tired.”

  He looked around. “Where’s Micah?”

  “I think he left.” I stood up and walked to the window. A minute ago, I had been in Micah’s arms, ready to kiss him. A shiver ran up my spine. God, Micah was impossibly hot and dangerously sexy. If only my heart didn’t belong to Victor—the Victor from my visions. I glanced at the guy before me, wishing he was the one he would never be.

  After a few tense moments, he spoke, “Tell me more about your visions.” His voice was low and unsure. “About me in your visions.”

  I leaned against the cold glass window. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I was wondering how different your Victor is from me.” He glanced up at me, his sea-green gaze sweeping into my soul. “Was he a good friend? Or more?”

  “Well, I’m not certain.” I wanted to hold his stare, even if it made me dizzy and confused. How could I talk about him to him? “We were best friends, companions, buddies. And we also acted like boyfriend and girlfriend, most of the time. I mean, we were jealous of each other’s past. I burned inside the few times we talked about your former girlfriends.” I saw his lips twitching as if they wanted to curl up in a smile, but it never came. “We kissed a little, but we never made out. So, I’m guessing we weren’t more, like you asked.”

  “Do you like him?” he asked. When I frowned, he rephrased, “Do you love him?” I averted my gaze and didn’t answer, but I guess my silence was the answer. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  I glanced back at him. “For what?”

  “For not being the one you wanted me to be. It would have been nice to be the one you hoped for. It would be nice to have a friend again, to have someone to care about.”

  What to say to that? I compelled myself to be still and keep my mouth shut.

  Unfortunately, unlike Micah and my dream Victor, he didn’t seem one bit into me. I wouldn’t be the one falling on my knees and begging for his love. With his stoic and reserved personality, that would make me look like a clown, or worse, desperate. All I needed was to run to him and cry on his lap. That would be fantastic.

  I glanced at the alarm clock beside him. “It’s getting late,” I said, willing my voice to sound firm and strong.

  “Yeah, right.” He stood and walked to the door, where he paused and looked back at me. He had to make my pulse race even more? How unfair. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Once he was gone, I threw myself on one of the beds, hugged the pillow, and forced myself to think about ponies and cute puppies so I wouldn’t cry.

  God, these three men—two real and one fictitious—would kill me.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The air inside Victor’s car was heavy and tense when we got on the road again the next day. A few times, Morgan tried to initiate a light conversation, but none of us gave him much attention. We only stopped twice for gas and to stock up on food we could eat in the car since our plan was to arr
ive in Wichita later that evening. We’d meet Brock, the other priest, then sleep a little and head to Cathedral Rock the next morning.

  During each stop, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. We saw sinister figures, everyone scared and wary, poverty and destruction. Each gas station and store was protected with gates and metal doors. It was a pain to get in, and almost as hard to get out.

  The clouds grew darker and thicker as we approached the city. Morgan had contacted his friend, Brock, and arranged to meet him in the pub of a local motel. As we drove up, I noticed that despite the rest of the city being as dark as night and as dirty as a trash bin, the motel was quite nice and well illuminated, despite the security system—cameras and alarms on each corner. We parked and got out, stretching our legs. At the reception desk, a girl in a pink mini dress, who looked more like a hooker than a receptionist, batted her lashes at Micah as she gave him keys for two rooms. I didn’t know I had such rage within me—only Victor and Micah had ever awakened such feelings.

  With unwelcome jealousy surging through me, I hoped my long nails scratched Micah’s hand as I took one of the keys. “This is my room. If you three don’t want to share one, then ask for another one.” I walked away, assuming the guys would follow. If I’d heard the receptionist correctly, their room was on the second floor, while mine was on the first. Very far away. I needed space.

  “What did you do to her?” I heard Victor ask Micah. But if Micah answered, I didn’t hear it.

  “We meet in one hour at the pub,” Morgan yelled at my back.

  I waved them off and hurried to my room. Enough of the guys—I wanted to be alone.

  ***

  The pub was small and cozy, with a bar that extended over a mirrored wall, plenty of round tables surrounding a dance floor in the center, rectangular tables along black stone walls, and a tiny stage opposite the bar where a band played soothing songs. I entered and looked around. The smoke and the scent of liquor were heady, and the dimmed illumination added to the gloomy setting.

  I ignored the stares. Yes, I had pampered myself on purpose. Thank God Micah was the one who packed my bag, because he had picked up about four dressy outfits. I wasn’t much on dresses, but I knew guys liked them and, for some reason, I wanted to provoke Victor. And maybe Micah too.

  A dark teal halter dress with a short hemline, wrap-up silver stilettos, and elegant but sultry makeup worked together as my makeover. I blow-dried my hair until every strand was straight as an ironing board and shining down my back.

  I flipped my hair to the side, revealing my nude back, and strolled to the bar. I paid no attention to the men in the room who still stared at me. Among them were Victor, Morgan, and Micah, seated at a low rectangular table near the end of the bar.

  My fingers crossed under the countertop as I asked the bartender for a shot of tequila. I sighed, relieved when he didn’t ask for my ID.

  The bartender had just returned with my drink when Victor approached and sat on the barstool next to me. His fitted indigo shirt and dark jeans clung to him, accentuating his shoulders and … yeah, his butt. And I had to confess, the messy hair over his eyes was so damn sexy.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked.

  “As if you didn’t know what this is.” I gestured toward my drink and smiled at him, and I saw him hold his breath when I did. So, he wasn’t immune to my charm. Hmm. Just reserved and aloof.

  “Would you like something, sir?” the bartender asked.

  I tried my luck. “He doesn’t drink,” I said, still smiling. “For him, a Pepsi. With one slice of lemon and three ice cubes.”

  The bartender nodded and walked off, and I turned toward Victor. I crossed my legs. His gaze flashed up and down, and I hid a smile.

  “Again, you amaze me with your knowledge … about me.”

  “Until now I’ve been lucky,” I said, before swallowing my drink. “But I’m doomed to make a mistake since you aren’t the Victor I know.” He flinched. Maybe I had been too harsh, but it was true. He wasn’t who I wanted him to be. I decided to change subjects. “Has Brock arrived yet?”

  “Nope,” he answered. The bartender placed a Pepsi before him. I took advantage of that moment and asked for another tequila shot. “How many shots can you handle?”

  “I don’t know. I’m here to find out.”

  He scowled and shook his head.

  The band started playing—and singing—a classical, old-school song that usually pleased the general public. I downed the second shot and stood up to dance.

  Victor held my arm, pulled me closer, and whispered, “I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re one of the few women in here. This crowd doesn’t look too respectful.”

  “What do you care?” I spat, shoving him. I pivoted to face the band and ended up bumping into Micah. In a black T-shirt and black jeans, he also looked magnificent.

  God, what was happening to me? How could I feel this attracted to three guys—two real ones and one who lived in my visions? And the real ones could be either jerks or conceited. I had to get my priorities, and my heart, sorted out.

  “Hi, darling,” Micah said, facing me but looking at Victor with a serious frown. “Are you all right?”

  “Yup,” I said, the buzz of the alcohol making my head spin.

  “Do you want to dance?” Micah offered me his arm, and I took it, smiling widely.

  Without looking back, I let Micah lead me to the dance floor, where he passed one arm around my waist, took my hand in his, and began twirling me around.

  “I probably shouldn’t, but I have to say, you’re so fucking hot.”

  I smiled, sure he was exaggerating. “This isn’t a game you need to add more points to, you know.”

  “What? I already told you, you’re more beautiful than you give yourself credit for. I bet lots of guys try to get in your pants. Hell, I want to get into your pants.”

  The heat in my cheeks increased. I stumbled, and he held me tightly against him.

  “How many hearts have you broken already?”

  “None.”

  “You’re kidding.” The humor fled his eyes. “You’re not. Damn, girl, don’t tell me you never really dated anyone.”

  “Not seriously,” I whispered.

  “Why not?”

  An invisible force pulled me, and I couldn’t control it. I ended up glancing over at Victor and meeting his straight stare. “I’m insane.”

  Micah had followed my stare. When I looked back at him, I saw the math happening in his eyes. “You fell in love with a product of your visions. You’ve been dreaming about him for what? Ten months?”

  “Eleven,” I answered.

  “Eleven months. You didn’t date or go out for eleven months?”

  “What if I did or didn’t? How is that your business?”

  “You didn’t know he was real,” Micah snapped. “Besides, you’re the one saying Victor’s not like the guy in your visions.”

  Home run! Knowing the truth and only thinking about it was one thing. To listen to it spoken out loud was another—and it hurt like hell.

  I pushed Micah back until he released me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Victor stand up. What? Was he going to act like a macho man and come to see if the damsel needed help? Men!

  Two steps from me, a waiter passed by with a tray full of drinks. I turned and grabbed a flute of champagne. I downed it as a guy approached Morgan’s table. Probably Brock.

  My mood wasn’t the best, and I felt too drunk to lend a hand toward solving things, so I decided to go to the bar and drink some more. Twice, men stepped in my path, whispering nasty words in my ears. Each time, Victor stepped closer and then returned to his stool.

  I came to a halt beside him. His eyes never wandered off me. I asked the bartender for another shot of tequila.

  Would he say anything to me?

  The alcohol in my blood acted. “Come on, you can’t be that cold, that unaffected.”

  “What are you talking about?”
r />   “I’m not that ugly,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  Tears welled in my eyes. “I’m tired of hoping you like me.”

  “Nadine, you’re drunk.”

  “I know you care. At least a little.” I shifted closer but he leaned in the opposite direction. “You protected me. Against Micah that night in my apartment. You put yourself before me and protected me.”

  “I didn’t protect you,” he snapped. “I was acting on instinct. I would have done the same for any person.”

  I was certain my chest would open and thick blood would ooze out of it, revealing my ripped heart.

  Before things got worse, I ran out of the pub, headed to my room. My legs twisted and my body bumped against doorjambs as I weaved my way through the motel. Why had I drunk so much? Why had I let my emotions take over?

  I locked the door to my room and ran to the fridge where I grabbed a Coke and downed it, hoping the sugar acted fast and rescued me from my state. I turned on the shower and downed another can of Coke while I waited for the water to warm up. I focused on breathing in and out, slowly and deeply, making sure I didn’t think of anything that had just happened. I didn’t want to … No, I couldn’t endure thinking of anything that had just happened.

  It didn’t suffice to have hallucinations and to become insane. I had to make a fool of myself too.

  Glad my mind was numb, I started to take my shoes off when a knock paralyzed me.

  I bet it was Micah. He had probably seen the scene and now wanted to comfort me. God, I so wasn’t in the mood for that! I ignored the knock and continued undoing the straps of my heels.

  The knock reverberated again, louder this time.

  “Nadine?”

  Victor! My pulse pounding, I kept quiet, and even turned the shower off so he would think I was sleeping.

  “Come on, open up. I want to see if you’re okay.” He knocked again.

  Why did he want to see if I was okay? Why was he here, adding to my torment and my broken heart?

  The knock became louder.

  “I’m okay, Victor,” I lied. “You can go.”

  “Please, open up.” His voice sounded lower, more urgent.