Cataclysm (Supernova Saga)

by C. L. Parker

  “He knew that I’m a Guardian, too.”

  Dominic shook his head. “I’m not buying it, Querida.”

  Kerrigan took his hand and laced their fingers together as she pulled it to the spot just over her heart. She stroked his cheek, combing through the light beard he sported. “Look, I don’t know if he’s telling the truth or not, but what if he is?”

  “And what if it’s all just a ploy to get you to feel safe enough to let your guard down?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to figure it out together, so I sort of invited him over tonight so you can meet him.”

  “You did what?”

  “Yeah, well on that note,” Gabe said, moving toward the stairs. “I’m just going to leave y’all alone to discuss this in private, because, apparently, the hallway is now a private place to do whatever we want. As if an invisible barricade that does. Not. Exist,” he emphasized, “just appears out of nowhere, able to hide y’all’s little chitty-chitty-bang-bang up against the wall. Ya freak nasties.”

  When he was gone, Kerrigan stood there, looking up at Dominic innocently, still waiting for his reaction. But reacting the way he wanted to at that exact time wouldn’t have gone over well. He was furious. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and maybe shake some sense into her, but it would have been pointless because the damage had already been done.

  She had invited a stranger to their home. She had endangered the lives of everyone who lived there, and he had no idea how effective he could be in protecting them if the little now-you-see-him-now-you-don’t thing didn’t turn out to be just a one-time fluke.

  He turned and stomped toward their room, knowing she would follow.

  “Dominic, let me explain.”

  “So, explain,” he said in a clipped tone.

  “Are you mad?” she asked, but he ignored her, not sure how volatile his words might come across in his current state of anger. He felt betrayed, blindsided—even though he knew deep down that hadn’t been her intention. It was the initial shock of it that kept him from reining it in.

  Needing something to occupy himself, he started making up the bed that he had left askew after his hellish nightmare. Kerrigan went over to the window, and he could tell the moment she saw all of the empty beer bottles because she crossed her arms over her chest and the muscles in her jaw developed a tic.

  “Are you drunk?”

  Dominic rolled his eyes and threw the last pillow onto the bed. “Yes, I’m drunk. I’ve had a pretty shitty day, okay?”

  Kerrigan didn’t respond. She stood there, looking at him. The silence between them stretched, neither one knowing quite what to say, both of them angry for their own separate reasons.

  “You realize the position you’ve put us in with your little stunt, right?”

  “Your mother was an alcoholic, Dominic.” The disappointment lacing her voice nearly knocked him over, but the words... the words stung.

  He had never given any thought to that fact when he drank, because he knew he could control it. He wasn’t anything like his mother. He had just had a really bad day. Still, he would be careful not to drink in excess again. The last thing he wanted was to cause the woman he loved more than anyone else in the world to worry she might have to watch him die a slow death at the bottom of a bottle. He’d been there, done that—wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

  “It was just a few beers. Don’t try to change the subject.”

  “I wanted you to meet him.”

  “So you invited him to our house?” Dominic ran a frustrated hand through his hair and turned away. “Jesus, Kerrigan! Do you have any idea how much danger you might have put us all in? He’s a stranger, for Christ’s sake! He could be working for Drake and Sinclair for all we know!”

  “Kerrigan,” she said so quietly he wasn’t sure she had said anything at all.

  Dominic looked at her, confusion marring his perfect features. “What?”

  “You always call me Querida, but you just called me by my name,” she clarified. “You’re mad.”

  “Damn straight, I’m mad! Pissed is more like it!”

  She bowed her head like a scorned child and fidgeted with her fingers.

  Dominic took a deep breath to calm himself and then pulled her into his embrace. “Look, Querida, you always give people the benefit of the doubt because you genuinely want to see the good in them. It’s one of the many things I love about you, but you’re entirely too trusting. You have to be more careful.”

  Kerrigan pulled back and looked up at him. “I saw the good in you. I trusted you, and that turned out to be the best thing I could have ever done.”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t very smart of you. Look at the things I’ve done in my past. If it hadn’t been for Availia, I would probably still be doing them.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You’re a good person. You only did those things because you had to.”

  “That’s beside the point, Querida. You could’ve been wrong about me.”

  “But, I wasn’t. And I don’t know how I know it, but I’m not wrong about Drew either. You have to trust my judgment on this. He knows things about who and what I am, and I can really benefit from his knowledge. He’s been doing this a whole lot longer than I have. Grammy’s not here to help me, and there’s only so much you can do, Dom. You’re not a Guardian.”

  The truth of her words slammed into him like a runaway freight train. No, he wasn’t a Guardian, and he didn’t know jack shit about her capabilities or how to deal with her gift. He had done all he could do for her in the training department.

  As much as he hated to admit defeat, he had no choice. “Okay.” She smiled up at him. “But... I don’t have to like it. You, I trust. Him, I’ll be keeping a close eye on.”

  “Thank you for being reasonable.” Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She was excited over the prospect of learning more about her gift, and he couldn’t fault her for that. “Who knows? Maybe he can even figure out how to help you. God knows we can use all the help we can get.”

  True, but he wasn’t so sure there was any help for him.

  She ran her hands over his chest. “Now, tell me what’s been so shitty about your day.”

  Dominic had to smile. Kerrigan wasn’t one for swearing unless she was really pissed, so to hear her quote him was almost comical.

  He sat down on the futon and pulled her to sit beside him with his arm over her shoulder. “Drake showed up in my dream.”

  Kerrigan pulled back. “Oh my God. What happened?”

  He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “He made some threats, tried to scare me into submitting to what he wants, but it didn’t work. Pissed me off more than anything. Apparently, I’ve got a cool new trick though. If I get mad enough, white light shoots out of my body. Pretty cool, huh?”

  A single brow lifted, and Kerrigan half-giggled in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Yeah, like I said, Drake pissed me off. I mean, like royally pissed me off, and then this white light shot out of me like a laser light show and punched him in the chest. And then he just wasn’t there anymore.”

  “You knocked him out of your dream?”

  Both of his shoulders lifted with a long inhale of breath and then fell again with a sudden exhale. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “That is very cool, Dom.” She kissed him and then rested her head on his shoulder. “I wonder what that means though.”

  “I was kind of hoping you’d help me figure it out. I mean, it could’ve just been a one-time thing.”

  He thought it best to leave out the part about pulling a disappearing act in the middle of the day as a side effect. At least until he knew for sure that it was an issue and not just a fluke as he suspected. No sense in getting her worried over nothing. One scared shitless person in their relationship was plenty enough.

  “I think we should pay Lucy a visit. Let her get a read on you and see what she thinks.”

  “Works for me.” Dominic kissed the top of her
head.

  They sat there in silence, listening to Staind’s Everything Changes playing over the radio. Kerrigan pushed back the jade bracelet she had made for him when she was seven and traced the outline of the tattoo on the inside of his wrist that read Corazón de Hierro. It was the Spanish translation of Iron Heart, inscribed there long before she had come along, and rendered unnecessary the moment she had bumped into him in the kitchen the day she moved in. His defenses never stood a chance where she was concerned. She had taken a blowtorch to the iron and melted his resolve with nothing more than a look.

  Dominic was the one to finally break the silence. “Hey, about this Drew guy... I know you think he’s all that he says he is and that we should trust him, but I don’t want him to know anything about me, okay?”

  Kerrigan sat up and started to protest, but he put a finger over her lips to stop her. “At least not until after we’ve figured out what his intentions are and whether or not he’s the real deal. It probably wouldn’t hurt to take him to Lucy as well.”

  She relented. “You’re probably right.”

  Dominic kissed the tip of her nose. “Of course I’m right.” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to him. “Now, when is he supposed to be coming over?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  That night Dominic had gone spectral again during his shower, well before midnight. When he had jumped out to confirm what he saw in the mirror, a mass of puffy, white vapor in the shape of his body looked back at him. He willed himself to materialize, but even that hadn’t worked. Had it not been for the steam from his shower, he would have been completely invisible.

  What had happened earlier in the day definitely hadn’t been a fluke. This shit was really happening. He had a sick feeling the temporary stay of execution that had been granted by Availia, and again by Kerrigan, was coming to an end.

  Kerrigan’s voice had come from the other side of the door, and as if it were a trigger, his human form had taken shape once again. He had quickly composed himself, grateful to see his own reflection staring back at him in the mirror before he opened the door for her.

  He did his best to appear normal, even if under the surface he was freaking the hell out. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

  When midnight tolled, he was back to boo time, his usual without the flickering. Figured that whatever was happening to him would be one-sided.

  The next morning, per their usual, he and Kerrigan made furious love. He was always grateful to be granted another day in which he could touch her, feel her, and he never wasted the opportunity to do exactly that. Besides, he had a lot of pent-up anxiety, and he needed the outlet to work it off so that he might actually be able to sleep. As it was, he was already terrified every time he closed his eyes, afraid he might not ever wake up again. Their passionate session worked like a charm, and he curled his big body around her tiny frame and off to sleep they went.

  His peaceful tranquility didn’t last for long, though, even with Kerrigan in his arms.

  Drake infiltrated his fantasy world again... uninvited. It was the same dream-turned-nightmare, the same build up of protective anger, the same release of energy. When he woke, it was to the sound of a fading scream that echoed off the walls and shot back at him, and he realized it was him. He was drenched in sweat, his breaths so frantic he feared he might be on the verge of hyperventilation. An aching fire was just beginning to fade in his chest, and he had a hard time telling if it was a residual effect from the dream, or if the rapid rate at which his heart was beating was getting dangerously close to combustion of nuclear proportion.

  Kerrigan’s voice belayed her trepidation when she attempted to comfort him with a calming touch to his twin mark. Concern etched every fine line of her face, and the rims of her eyes were acting as dams to the tears that threatened to overflow. She pushed her fingers through the hair at his temple as she waited for him to gather his bearings.

  When he took her hand and pressed his lips to her fingertips, she finally let her head rest on her folded arm. “It was him again, wasn’t it?” Her voice was meek, almost as if by not saying the words too loudly, and not using his name, it somehow took power away from Drake.

  Dominic closed his eyes and nodded. “He just knows how to get under my skin, you know?”

  “What is he using against you?”

  “You. Colton. The people who mean the most to me in the world.” He left out the part about their baby, not wanting her to have to carry the same fear around that he had. Besides, it was still way too early in their relationship to have the “baby” talk.

  He rolled to face her and skimmed the back of his hand over her belly, imagining it swollen with his child. And that only caused him to have to force down the lump that had formed in his throat as a result.

  He could really use a beer. Or a shot of Patron. Silver. Hold the lime. And the salt. Hell, just give him the whole bottle.

  “He knows he can’t touch me. He’s just messing with your head. And as for Colton...” Kerrigan paused, running her thumb over his bottom lip. “He’d have to go through me to get to him. I’m hoping that if everything goes well with Drew, I’ll have an even bigger arsenal at my fingertips. I think maybe that’s why he was sent here... to help with Drake, and maybe even to help me figure out how to save you.”

  “For his sake, I hope you’re right, Querida. Because if I get one whiff of Drake and Sinclair on him, I’m taking him out.”

  Dominic had just left Colton and Gabe in the kitchen to go check on Kerrigan when he saw her at the bottom of the stairs leaning against the banister to put on her shoe. She was wearing a white sundress, a slinky little number that hugged every curve and accentuated her glowing tan. Hopping on one foot, she slipped the other fuck-me heel into place.

  “How do I look?” she asked as she took an earring and hooked it into her earlobe.

  “Ravishing as usual, but then again, I happen to think you’re gorgeous without all that. What gives, anyway? Why are you getting so dressed up for this guy?”

  She secured the backing on the second earring and shrugged. “I want to make a good impression.”

  He followed her into the living room. “You don’t ever get all dressed up for me.”

  “That’s because I don’t need fancy clothes to make a good impression on you. I simply need to take them off, and never put them back on.” She kissed his cheek and gave him a teasing smile. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

  Just as he leaned in to kiss her, she pulled away, but he caught her hand and yanked her back to him. She squealed in surprise when she crashed into his chest. Eyes alight with laughter looked up at him, and then she batted her lashes demurely. She knew what she was doing, knew which button to push to drive him crazy as sure as she knew which button to push to calm him down. But he knew all of her buttons as well. Two could play at her game.

  He took the kiss he had been denied and moved her until the backs of her knees hit the couch behind her and she was forced to sit. Then he lifted one of her legs onto the couch and kneeled before her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, smiling.

  A devilish smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, and he bent his head as he turned on the full power of his bedroom eyes and placed an open-mouth kiss to the top of her thigh. “Making a good impression. I couldn’t give a shit less what this other guy thinks about me, but you... you I want to impress.”

  “You don’t need to impress me, Dominic,” she said, but made no effort to stop him. “And I’m well aware of your skills. All of them, in fact, and I am very, very impressed.”

  “Mmhmm. Well, I think maybe you might need a little reminder of what will always be waiting for you at home.”

  He continued his ascent up her thigh and was just about to raise the skirt of her dress when she stopped him. Dominic gave her a wounded look, his pride taking a hit. She had never refused him before, and now she was sitting there with a big fat ‘denied’ sign flashing neon red above her h
ead.

  “Colton and Gabe are in the kitchen, and Andrew will be here any minute. We don’t have time for this.” She used the heel of her shoe to his shoulder to nudge him back.

  It gave Dominic a glorious view of the white satin panties she wore underneath, only fueling his need, and he turned his face to press his lips to her ankle. Then he pulled out all the stops, dropping his voice to that rich, dark level he knew she couldn’t resist. His eyes bore into hers, lust pouring from their depths. “Querida, for future reference, a fuck-me heel planted into a man’s shoulder will only make him want you more, not less. But I have a feeling you already know that.”

  He kissed her calf, lingering over her skin as he lightly teased her. Unable to resist, he looked between her thighs and licked the inside of his lip in eager anticipation. “Quiero saborearte.”

  The sultry Spanish words licked at her even as he pushed past her makeshift barricade and nuzzled the thin silk between her thighs. She didn’t need him to translate the words to know their meaning. She had heard them whispered to her in the past, and even now she could feel the memory of his cold breath brush against her ear. He wanted to taste her, to savor her.

  Expert fingers found their mark when their tips caressed the starburst-shaped birthmark on her hip, the mate to the mark on his shoulder. Instantly she was swept away by his touch. Everything else ceased to exist, and all that remained was Kerrigan, Dominic, and the passion they shared.

  “You make my mouth water, and I can’t help myself. I want... I need to devour you.” He inhaled and exhaled in an exaggerated fashion, breathing her in. His icy breath penetrated the porous material over her center, and the contradictory flames that ignited in its wake created dual sensations that rendered her body incapable of doing anything but surrender.

  He was fire and ice—a combination that could prove lethal or orgasmic, depending on whether you were friend or foe.

  Kerrigan sucked in a breath when he placed his lips over her most sensitive spot. She was caught in his trance, compelled by the spell he wove through the magic of his own making. Dominic was no sorcerer, but the power of his words, his eyes, his touch—he could bend the will of any woman, immortal and human alike.