Duality (Cordelia Kelly #1): Empath Urban Fantasy

by Hawk, Ryanne

  “Until we meet again, Cordelia Kelly. Some day you will trust me with what caused such a shredded tear in you, and why you have parts of yourself locked up. Delia is nice to play with, but I prefer the whole of Cordelia.” He reached up and stroked my cheek once as his tongue snaked out, and he licked the taste of me off his lips.

  “What did you call me?”

  He laughed and spun on his heels, a bounce to his step, and started walking away from me. He’d made his way to the door before he turned around and said in a loud amused voice, “I owe you a meal!” He laughed again before opening the door with his head shaking and stalked off into the dead of night.

  Wait a second. How had he known my full name and just what had he seen when our souls locked together?

  Damn. This is the weirdest night of my life.

  The only new piece of my odd puzzle was the fact I still held peace inside my skin. For a rare moment, I didn’t struggle for control over my emotions or fight with my lighter side. For this moment, we seemed oddly united. The duality of my entire existence merged into a harmonious blend of darkness and light. For the first time, I felt whole. There was no she or I. There was just me, and my name was Cordelia.

  How long would the reprieve last?

  Chapter Two

  I pried my eyelids open and glanced bleary eyed at the clock on my nightstand. Seven-thirty? Damn, I'd passed out around three. I rolled over and rubbed my face with the palms of my hands, trying to dispel the sandpaper from my constant lack of sleep. Generally, I got about three or four hours at a time if I was lucky. They say sleep comes to those with a clear conscious, and that would explain a lot. My head and heart are muddied by the thoughts and auras of those around me. The pounding at my door jarred me back to the present moment. Who the fuck knocks on doors at seven-thirty in the morning?

  Someone with a death wish, obviously. I debated whether or not to throw a pillow over my head and ignore the incessant rapping beat, but then a male voice shouted, the sound carrying all the way to my bedroom. “Cordelia, get up and open the door.”

  Sol.

  Fuck, he’s going to wake up all the neighbors. I scrambled out of bed and threw on a pair of pink and black-checkered flannel pajama bottoms before making my way to the bathroom to check my face.

  Sure enough, I had sheet wrinkles up and down my cheeks, and my lips and eyes were puffy. Just great. I was sure Sol looked like a million bucks first thing in the morning, and here I looked like road kill.

  Well, serves him right for showing up at the ass crack of dawn. I looked down at the headlights poking through my thin white lace tank top and decided to hell with caring whether he saw my perky nipples or not. I walked down the hall, threw the bolts, and opened the door with a cocked hip. “What do you want?”

  “And good morning to you, too,” Sol said with a mischievous look in his eyes as he perused my attire.

  “I was sleeping.”

  “So I see. Tell me. What were you dreaming about that had you thrashing in your sheets then sighing with contentment?”

  Embarrassment flooded my veins, and a flush creeped up my arms. Even my cheeks burned. Bastard. How long had he been outside my condo before he knocked? I doubt I’d made so much noise. Otherwise, I’d have woken one of my nosy neighbors. And yes, my dream was dirty. I’m sure my fingers have an arousing aroma.

  “I was in my own bed and not bothering anyone. Do you make a habit of eavesdropping on sleeping women? By the way, do you have super hearing or something?” I asked with a brow raised.

  Despite my innards boiling, my calm mask slipped into place and brokered no issues with his early morning escapades. The only giveaway was my lobster like arms and chest, and there was nothing I could do about my shellfish color.

  The bemused smile plastered on his face was beginning to piss me off. “Can I come in, Cordelia?”

  I thought about whether I should let him in for a few seconds longer than necessary just to make him wait. Finally, I opened the door further to allow him entrance into my home.

  “Thank you. I brought breakfast,” he said waving a white bakery bag in front of my nose just long enough for me to get a whiff of butter and chocolate.

  He walked by me and tossed the bag onto my kitchen table before embarking on a tour of my abode.

  Arrogant ass.

  I parked my butt at the table and snatched the bag, opening the package slowly like a kid on Christmas morning to reveal croissants from the bakery down the street. My favorite. “How did you know where I lived?” I asked around a mouth full of flaky goodness.

  He turned from my bookshelves and said cryptically, “I have my ways.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” I mumbled under my breath, and I heard him chuckle from across the room. He continued his presumptuous examination of my place, and I continued to eat my delicious breakfast. I suppose I should have been irritated he was being so nosey, but I could only muster up mild amusement.

  Something had bothered me since last night, and I wanted an answer. “Of all the bars in all the world, you just so happened to be in The Duke last night? How did you find me?”

  “I wasn’t looking for you, per se,” he muttered without turning around. “Well, not in the way you’re reacting, at least. I mean you no harm.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  He sighed. “Because currently I speak the truth.”

  “So you lie often?”

  He grinned at me over his shoulder and drew out his tour of my home. “Many would say I do, indeed. I like to think of it as omission or misdirection.”

  A light tension hit me between the eyes, and I rubbed the heel of my palms against the throb. This conversation was pointless. I’d have to trust my gut or kick him the hell out of my house and wouldn’t that be fun—he outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds, and who knew what skills he had at his disposal.

  Might as well caffeinate myself. “I need coffee. You want one?”

  “Sure,” Sol said as he contemplated the photographs on my walls in the living room. Most of them were candid shots of my friends and family from long ago. Some were of me when I was younger. I displayed them in a prominent position as reminders of what you could lose if you weren’t careful with your heart or words.

  My coffee process isn’t difficult. I filled a cup with ice, put it under the one-minute coffee maker, and pressed a button. Voila. Next, I added Ovaltine and chocolate syrup, splashed in some cream, screwed on the lid and shook it up. Then I plopped in a straw, and I slurped up the sugary caffeine with a moan.

  I turned around and caught Sol staring at my lips with a hungry and bemused look on his face.

  “That is your coffee?”

  I glanced down at my drink and back up at his face and shrugged.

  “That is not coffee.”

  “Do you want one or not?”

  “Hell, no. Who in their right mind would drink cold chocolate with a hint of coffee?”

  I stared at him, put the straw to my lips, and sucked.

  His eyes narrowed, but he watched.

  “Did you eat already, Sol?” I asked as I licked the sweet taste of cream and chocolate off my lips.

  His gaze roamed my body, and my blood heated a few more degrees, but then the warm sensation vanished. “No. Generally, I eat later in the morning.”

  “How did you know I would eat this?”

  “Lucky guess?” He shrugged and turned away. “May I use your bathroom?”

  “Down the hall on the left.”

  I passed the time wondering what surreal world I lived in all of a sudden. I just met this man last night, yet I’d invited him into my home while I was still wearing my pajamas—without any underwear on?

  I’d woken up more alive than I’d felt in years, maybe even longer. Usually, I had to fight with the darker half of myself for control, but she quieted in Sol’s presence. We both did. This morning had to be an aberration. There was no way to sustain this peace, but I was going to hold on as long
as I could.

  My mind lay still, and my heart drummed a normal intonation. I’d have to be careful around Sol, so I didn’t get dependent on his aura, and the way he muted my brain. Okay fine…and the way he aroused my senses, my core, and made me yearn. Sue me.

  What was he doing here? What did he want from me? Wonderment for another time.

  Footsteps in the hall snapped me out of question mode, and I turned my head to see him waltz around the corner with a perplexed expression. Then it hit me. I’d sent him down the hall to my personal bathroom instead of my guest bathroom by the entry.

  “Your bathroom is a jungle. There are hundreds of plants hanging from the ceiling and walls. Your shower has things growing in it. There is moss on the ground.”

  Shit.

  “Can I see your bedroom?”

  Fuck.

  “Uh, don’t you think it’s a little soon to be asking me to see my bedroom? Shouldn’t we have a first date?”

  Stall. Stall. Stall.

  Sol about faced and marched his fine ass down the hall and threw open the only other door, and I cringed.

  Riotous laughter met my ears, and he returned to my kitchen, plucked me out of my chair, and hugged me tight against his broad chest.

  I took back what I’d said last night. This was the weirdest moment of my life.

  “I knew it was you,” he whispered against my hair and set me down on my feet again, caressing my cheek once. He always seemed to find a way to touch me.

  “Knew what was me? Gawd, you’re strange, and coming from me, that says a lot.”

  “Why have you stayed hidden for so long? Why have you not sought out more of our kind? Why do you lock up parts of yourself?” he asked as he picked up my hand, turned it over, and traced the lines of my palm.

  I didn’t know what to say. My mouth opened and closed, but no sound escaped. The swift, red-hot burn of anger rolled down my arms, and he released my heated hands quickly. He had no right to judge my life, nor my choices. I glanced at his face, but his expression bespoke concern and amusement.

  “I am sorry for throwing those questions out at you rapidly. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since last night. What I saw when our souls locked, haunts me.” He said the last part with a flurry of arm waving as if he was speaking in signs. He shook his head and looked down at his feet, then lifted his head and put his hands on my shoulders, staring into my eyes. “Come on. Let’s go do something.”

  His infectious grin made me answer with one of my own. There was no stopping my smile. He electrified me and banked my fire at the same time.

  “I’ll get dressed. Make yourself at home, okay?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I chuckled and shook my head. "I’ll be a couple of minutes.” I turned and went into my bedroom and threw on jeans and a blouse, a pair of flats and hurried back into the living room, catching sight of Sol caressing my furniture with the tip of his finger.

  "All set. Come on." I grabbed my purse and keys, opened the front door and waited for Sol to exit before walking out behind him.

  After we locked up, he reached down and grasped my hand in his, and we walked down the stairs together. At first I was a little unnerved, I mean, I barely knew this man, but at the same time his heart called to mine, and his aura sang to me, like I’d finally found my way home.

  ★★★

  The shop on the corner served the best coffee, and they knew me. I frequented their establishment multiple times per day—you could say I have a small addiction to coffee and chocolate.

  Sol ordered a hot French pressed coffee with milk. Then he shocked me by ordering oatmeal—plain, boring Irish oatmeal. He didn’t even put fruit in his breakfast. I ordered another chocolate croissant, and we made our way to one of the couches by the window.

  He casually leaned back, letting his items cool on the table, and twirled a strand of my hair around his finger.

  “Do you know what you are?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  I did a double take, because really? Of course I knew what I was.

  “I’m an empath.”

  He nodded his head. “Right. So am I. “

  I nodded in return. Look at us, stating the obvious.

  He continued, “But what I meant was, do you know who you are, and where empaths came from?”

  “My grandmother told me about the empathic race when I was young, about how God wanted servants on earth to aid in the emotional stability of the humans. He used his first angel and drops of his blood to create a new line of people. Our purpose was to absorb the most negativity we could shoulder to keep the peace and murder at bay. She schooled me before she died, but there is still so much I don’t know.” I choked on the words because she didn’t just die. She was murdered, and the haunted memories horrified me still. Most of those memories I’d blocked out because they broke me apart.

  I didn’t realize I shook until Sol took my hand in his and casually stroked my palm while staring out the window, giving me time to compose myself.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said, letting go of my hand and starting to eat his breakfast. “Yes, you’re right about God’s intention, at least according to legend. Lucifer caught wind of the plan to harmonize earth with a new race and sought to create his own ilk of empathic people. He used the same process. Only, they were infused with darkness to generate havoc in the world and absorb the joy and happiness.”

  “Got to love the light versus dark aspect.” I peered at Sol, and he masked his face. Interesting. “So the lines started pure, light mating with light, dark mating with dark. They were the first Royals. As time progressed, the empathic race started mating with humans, and the lines diluted. As far as I know, there are few Royal lines left, right?”

  “Correct,” he said.

  “Of course, opposites attract. Women fall for the bad boy under some misguided illusion they’ll be able to tame him, and the bad boy is drawn to the purity of the good girl, sometimes believing he’ll be saved and other times hoping he’ll corrupt her.”

  He nodded. “I feel for the humans who have empathic abilities, but no power. They can feel others’ emotions, but can do nothing but weather the shit storm. Half the time they don’t understand what they sense or feel, and they end up crazy or thinking they’re crazy.”

  “I agree. The not knowing is sad. What about you, Sol? Are you light or dark?”

  He put his plate on the table and leaned back on the sofa, lifting a leg and resting his foot on his other thigh, getting more comfortable. His arm settled on the back of the couch, but his eyes hardened a minutia.

  “What are you?” he fired back with a raised brow as he picked a piece of lint off my shirt.

  “Both my parents are Royals.” I evaded and stared at the floor, wondering what made such a large stain on the hardwood.

  “My father’s blood is Royal.”

  “What about your mother?” I asked while searching his face for tells.

  He turned his head away and his hand tightened against his leg.

  I let it go and continued on, but altered the subject. “All these years, I’ve tried to make sense of why my grandmother was killed. She was an amazing woman and ruler for the light. Who would want her dead?”

  “The reasons for murder are varied and unpredictable. Perhaps there was dissent in the ranks?”

  I picked up my breakfast, but my appetite had left, and the butter infused flakes now tasted like sandpaper mixed with rancid milk. I tossed the croissant on the plate and pressed my back further into the couch cushions, sinking lower and resting my head so I could close my eyes. Those memories hurt, and I didn’t like when they reached the surface.

  “I don’t want to talk about what happened anymore. Usually I don’t. I have no idea why my filter stopped working.” The sunlight warmed my face and made spots dance in my head from trying to see through my closed lids.

  “Both my parents are dead.” A rich and deep pain danced across my skin and caressed me, Sol’s way of letting me k
now I wasn’t alone in grief.

  The world carried a lot of pain. Few remained unafflicted. There were rare jewels that filtered pain into joy and laughter, or love and peace, but those lines had died out for the most part. I used to be one of those people before time forced me to accept what I cannot change and can never be undone. Death and mayhem destroyed my life and those around me.

  Now, I don’t know who I am.

  “You are unique, Cordelia, and special. You were born to rule.” Sol tugged me closer to him and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I ignored his statement.

  I rested my head on his chest and helpless tears soaked into his shirt even though I desperately tried to contain the flow. I sobbed uncontrollably. My body shook and trembling waves washed over me. Outside, clouds darkened the sky, and rain pelted the windows and buildings. People screamed and ran for cover from the flash rainstorm.

  I had to get control of myself or the streets would flood, and people would get hurt.

  I eased off his chest and stared into his eyes, as silent drops cascaded down my cheeks. He reached up and wiped them away with his thumbs, still holding my face in his hands. He breathed in and out with me, slowly. His eyes bore into mine. In my mind, for a mere second, I saw an umbilical cord of energy flowing from Sol to me, and the connection mystically bound us together. In a burst of magic unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, the shakes ceased and my control returned.

  A few moments later, he blinked and the connection broke. My tears slowed and then stopped. I laid my head against the steady thump of his heart and listened to the rhythm he set. A minute passed, the sun peeked out from behind the storm clouds, and people went about their business, unaware a singular person sometimes controlled the rain.

  “You okay, baby?” His steady pulse and even tone were balms to my broken soul.

  “I will be. Thank you. I’m sorry I ruined your shirt.”