by I. T. Lucas
But then, another disturbing thought occurred to him. He narrowed his eyes at Nathalie. “Don’t tell me he actually got to see me naked…” because that would mean the pervert had watched them making love.
Nathalie rolled her eyes. “No, I wouldn’t let him. And he is nice; when I tell him to go away he does. But he butted in a few times, giving me advice.”
“About what?”
“You. He encouraged me to hurry and bang you because you’re so hot. His words, not mine.”
“Why? You don’t think I’m hot?”
“I think you’re smoldering hot, and you know it.”
Yeah, he did. And now he couldn’t be too mad at the ghost either. Apparently, Nathalie’s forwardness was at least in part due to Sage’s active encouragement.
And yet, Andrew found it strange that Nathalie’s ghosts were all male. It would’ve bothered him less if they were female…
Was it possible that they were the product of her imagination after all? She’d been lonely, and craving male companionship, her mind might have provided an illusion as a substitute. But now that she had a real boyfriend, the previous imaginary one was no longer needed, and she’d conjured another one who fit the role of the best friend she lacked—someone she could confide in, someone who would push her to do what she was afraid of.
Made perfect sense.
The problem with this scenario, though, was that it undermined his conviction that Nathalie was a Dormant.
Communicating with the dearly departed was a paranormal ability; making up imaginary friends at the age of thirty was a mental disability.
Damn, they really needed to find Eva.
Fast.
If Nathalie wasn’t a Dormant, he would gladly spend his mortal life with her, helping her find a cure for her mental condition.
But if Nathalie was indeed a Dormant, he would have to go through the transition first in order to turn her.
And he wasn’t getting any younger.
Tick, tock, tick tock… his time was running out.
Andrew’s Story Continues in
DARK WARRIOR’S PROMISE
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Book 8 in The Children of the Gods Series
Dark Warrior’s Promise
DARK WARRIOR’S PROMISE
Book 2 in Nathalie & Andrew’s Story
Andrew and Nathalie's love flourishes, but the secrets they keep from each other taint their relationship with doubts and suspicions. In the meantime, Sebastian and his men are getting bolder, and the storm that's brewing will shift the balance of power in the millennia-old conflict between Annani's clan and its enemies.
EXCERPT
“Damn it!” Nathalie slammed the oven door shut.
“What happened?” Jackson poked his head into the kitchen. “Need help?”
“No, get back to the register,” she snapped at him.
He arched one blond brow before doing as he’d been told.
With a sigh, Nathalie braced her mitt-covered hands against her work table and let her head hang down from her neck.
She was short-tempered as hell this morning, and it wasn’t only because she had slept less than three hours last night. Ever since Andrew’s peculiar comment from yesterday, her mind was churning with questions. She could no longer look at Jackson without wondering what his and Bhathian’s agenda was, and by that, she meant what was Andrew’s.
Why had none of them mentioned being related to each other before?
“Number two sandwich, mayo on the side,” Jackson called out from the other room, instead of coming in or just sticking his head in to announce the new order. Her irritated response must’ve come out nastier than she’d intended, to scare off a guy who seemed to be afraid of nothing.
Good. Today, she really wasn’t in the mood for seeing his pretty face and his fake charm.
Her father had had one of his episodes last night, waking her up sometime around two in the morning. He’d come into her room, saying that he couldn’t sleep in his bed because there was some random guy already sleeping in it. No amount of arguing had managed to convince him otherwise. In the end, she’d given up and had moved his blanket and pillow to the couch in the den.
She’d been up since then.
You should have found him a place months ago.
Oh, hell, Tut. He was back.
What else could go wrong? Why couldn’t she get one damn break in her stupid, miserable life?
She thought she’d found in Andrew the perfect guy to share her life with, only to discover that he’d been hiding things from her—like the fact that Bhathian and Jackson were part of his family. And she couldn’t shake the suspicion that he’d gotten closer to her only to find out information about her missing mother.
She thought she’d found in Jackson the best helper for her shop, only to discover that the kid was part of the conspiracy.
She thought she’d found in Bhathian a great new friend, one who was selflessly helping her out of the goodness of his heart, but he was with them, and obviously had an ulterior motive.
But the last straw was Tut. After such a long stretch of silence, she thought she’d gotten rid of him. All that remained was to banish Sage as well. It would’ve meant that she was getting better. But her hopes had been shattered.
She was still as nutty as ever.
Damn it. Even if her suspicions about Andrew were nothing but paranoia, what kind of a future could someone as bat-shit crazy as her hope to have with a man like him?
Nutty Nattie would never have a normal life. She would never get married, and would never have kids. She would grow old alone with only a bunch of cats for company.
Trouble was, she was allergic to them, and an old dog lady didn’t work as well as an old cat lady.
With hot tears flooding her eyes and sliding down her cheeks, she fled the kitchen, afraid someone would come in and see her crying like a loon. And if the tears weren’t bad enough, she was losing the battle against the sobs that were pushing up her throat.
Shit, she couldn’t breathe.
The downstairs bathroom was the closest, but it served the coffee shop and didn’t offer much privacy, especially since she was about to bawl her eyes out and sob uncontrollably. Which left only the second-floor bathroom. Dropping the mitts at the foot of the stairs, Nathalie ran up and locked herself in her cramped sanctuary.
Dramatic much? Tut’s sarcastic tone was like a kick to the gut. Dirty, underhanded bastard, kicking her when she was already down on the floor.
“You’re such an asshole.” Nathalie dropped the toilet lid and sat down.
And you’re overreacting because you’re tired. It happened before. You get depressed when you’re sleep-deprived.
“Shut up. Just shut up. I can’t deal with all this crazy right now.” She dropped her head to her hands.
You’re not crazy, you have a gift, he said softly.
“Says the crazy voice in my head.”
What if I can prove it?
“How?”
Tell you something that no one else knows.
“Go ahead, I’m listening.” Tut was so full of shit. For years he’d claimed that he could tell her nothing because it was against the rules.
Columbus didn’t discover America.
Nathalie rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows that. Some Viking explorer got there first.”
Tut chuckled. The truth is that America had always been known, and various peoples had been crossing the Atlantic Ocean for thousands of years. It just wasn’t known to the Europeans of Columbus’s time.
“Maybe yes, maybe no. It’s not something I can use. There is no way to prove it. You need to give me something more concrete, something personal, not something anyone can dig out of obscure history books.”
Sorry, I’ve been dead for far too long. All I have are anecdotes which are history to you.
“Bloody convenient excuse.”
A
sk the new guy, he’s fresh.
“Sage?”
Whatever he calls himself. He’s a newbie so there is a good chance that he died recently and can remember stuff to tell you that you can still verify. Except, time doesn’t work the same on this side, so even though he might think he’d been alive only yesterday, he could’ve been dead for many years of your time.
This was more information than Tut had ever shared with her. “Why are you telling me this only now?”
I had no reason to tell you any of this before. But as I said, my time here is limited, and I don’t want to leave you vulnerable.
“Fine. If Sage comes back, I’ll ask him.”
He will. You’re like a beacon of light to those of us who cling to this existence for one reason or another. That’s why you were bombarded with so many voices when you were little. I helped shield you, and as you got older, becoming more guarded and skeptical, that beacon of yours has dimmed. But some desperate souls will still find you, I have no doubt of that.
“Why? What do they want from me?”
Think about it. If there were only one person in the world who could hear you, wouldn’t you fight for a chance to be heard?
He had a point. It must be awful to be all alone in the big void with no one to talk to. “Yeah, I guess I would.”
Okay, now that we are clear on this subject you need to get up, wash your face, and get back to work before they come looking for you.
For a change, Tut had sounded sincere and had actually made sense. If there really were an afterlife—and she tended to believe that there was, even though she wasn’t religious like her father—communication with the dead must’ve been very limited. Otherwise, instead of esoteric, it would’ve been a commonplace occurrence. Perhaps she really was one of the lucky few who possessed this dubious talent.
But as disturbing as it was to accept that she was talking to actual ghosts, thinking of herself as psychic certainly beat thinking of herself as crazy. So why not adjust her belief system and change the story she was telling herself? How different would her life have been if she had not been doubting her sanity all the time, but embracing her psychic ability instead?
It was so simple—just a matter of a change in perspective, a change in attitude, a new storyboard. There would always be doubts, there was no way around it given the supernatural nature of the interactions, but she could choose to brush them off instead of letting them take over.
“You’re right,” she told Tut.
Invigorated by the shift in logic, Nathalie pulled down a long piece of toilet paper and dabbed her eyes dry before blowing her nose into it. Getting up, she lifted the lid and flushed the paper down the toilet. As she watched it get sucked down the small whirlpool, she hiccupped once, then turned around to examine the damage in the mirror.
God, she looked awful—blotchy nose, puffy eyes, the works. How on earth was she going to erase the signs of emotional meltdown from her face?
Makeup, and lots of it.
When she was done, her skin tone was flawless thanks to several coats of foundation. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, but the black eyeliner and mascara she’d applied liberally helped them look less puffy.
The downside was that she was painted like a hooker.
Whatever, it would have to do. She was going to spend most of her day in the kitchen anyway.
“Son of a bitch.” Andrew slammed the phone down.
It was four in the afternoon, and he had to drag his ass all the way to the airport, in rush-hour traffic, to investigate a supposed prank. A baggage handler had shown up to work wearing a padded vest, which in itself wasn’t all that unusual, but a coworker had noticed that the padding looked odd. That, combined with some troubling comments the handler had been spewing lately, prompted the coworker to approach security.
The guy had been detained, and his vest had been checked. It turned out that a bunch of empty matchboxes had been sewn into the padding, creating the square outlines his coworker had noticed.
Strange? You bet.
The excuse was that he’d been pulling a prank on his buddies.
Yeah, right. Andrew had a strong suspicion that it had been a test to see if the guy could get away with a dummy before attempting the real thing.
There were gaping holes in airport security that had to be plugged before something worse than 9/11 hit the United States. Problem was that the TSA and Homeland Security couldn’t come up with a solution that didn’t cost millions to implement, or create additional holdbacks. Airport personnel moved between secured and unsecured areas many times during their workday, and it wasn’t feasible to screen them every time they re-entered the secured areas.
The only solution, in Andrew’s opinion, was to screen everyone entering the airport.
Expensive? Sure. New checkpoints would have to be built at the entry points, and they would have to be numerous to facilitate fast processing of the inbound traffic.
Necessary? Absolutely. And if it meant that airfare would get even pricier to cover the additional costs, Andrew was willing to pay a few extra dollars for a ticket so he could fly safely and get rid of the anxiety even he felt every time he boarded a plane. And he was pretty sure that most travelers would gladly pay it as well.
Not that anyone had been paying attention to him or his suggestions at that fucking summit in Washington. No one listened to the field people. It was all about department politics and the bureaucrats covering their own pampered asses.
God, he hated politicians. Hell, he hated all bureaucrats.
They should each serve a few years in the armed forces before being allowed to run for office. Not that it was guaranteed to produce better judgment calls, but it would no doubt be an improvement. Fighting on the front lines and risking their own bloody lives would definitely make them rethink their priorities.
“Where to?” Kravitz asked as Andrew passed his desk on his way out.
“The fucking airport. I have a suspect to interrogate.”
The agent glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind him. “I don’t envy you the drive. Traffic will be murder.”
“Isn’t it always?”
Kravitz nodded. “Can’t argue with that. See you tomorrow, Spivak.”
Andrew gave the agent a two-fingered salute. “Say hi to Lora for me.”
Six months ago, Kravitz had married an intern from the accounting department and hadn’t stopped smiling since. Evidently, marriage agreed with the guy.
“Will do.”
Would he be as stupidly happy as Kravitz if he married Nathalie? Probably not. Even though he loved her passionately and saw himself spending the rest of his life with her, Andrew just wasn’t the cheerful sort. All he could hope for was a measure of contentment, some peace for his restless soul.
He hated keeping things from her.
Hell, who was he kidding? Andrew was guilty of worse. He was plain out lying to her. But even if he disregarded the clan’s directive of keeping its existence secret, it wasn’t his place to tell her the truth—it was her real father’s. Except, he just couldn’t help thinking that the duplicity would blow up in his face at some point.
It had taken him a while to figure out why Nathalie had been upset last night, and why she’d lied about the reason for her tears. Clearly, she must’ve gotten suspicious after his stupid blurt about Bhathian and Jackson being related to each other and through his sister to him. The woman was far from stupid, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he must’ve had a good reason not to mention this before.
God only knew what she was imagining. Women had a tendency to blow up every little thing into monstrous proportions even without having a good reason. And lying was a fucking big one.
Driving up the levels of the underground parking of his office building, Andrew waited until he cleared it before hitting Nathalie’s number.
“Hi, Andrew,” she answered in a flat tone.
Fuck, now he was sure he was screwed. “What’s up,
sweetheart, you sound off.”
“I’m just dead tired. My dad had an episode last night, and I’ve hardly gotten any sleep.”
She sounded truthful, but his gift wasn’t as good when limited to audio clues. “Perhaps I should let you sleep and come over tomorrow. I’m on my way to the airport to interrogate a suspect, so I would be running late anyway.”
Andrew held his breath as he waited for her response. If she agreed with him, he was screwed. But if she still wanted to see him tonight, it would mean that he hadn’t screwed up as badly.
Or that the woman was a saint.
“No, I want you to come. I’ll ask Jackson to stay a little longer and keep an eye on my dad while I take a nap. Wake me up when you get here.”
Feeling the muscles in his jaw relax, Andrew let out the breath he’d been holding. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure, you silly man. I miss you.”
A big grin split Andrew’s face. “Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”
She giggled. “Duh, of course, it is.”
Suddenly, the drive didn’t seem as daunting, and as he hummed along to the tune of a popular love song on the radio, Andrew realized that he was still smiling.
Damn, he was turning into a fool just like Kravitz.
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Book 8 in The Children of the Gods Series
Dark Warrior’s Promise
Is Available on Amazon
The Children of the Gods Series
Kian & Syssi’s story
1: Dark Stranger The Dream
2: Dark Stranger Revealed
3: Dark Stranger Immortal
Amanda’s story
4: Dark Enemy Taken
5: Dark Enemy Captive
6: Dark Enemy Redeemed
Kri & Michael’s Story
6.5: My Dark Amazon Novella
Andrew’s Story