Broken Dawn

by Duvall, Dianne

  He kissed her, slow and thorough, then sent her a grin. “How soon will you marry me? I can’t wait to call you wife.”

  She laughed as happiness spiraled through her. “As soon as I can control my eyes enough to keep them from glowing around Becca. I want her to be there.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “I do, too.”

  “I don’t suppose you could find a way to temporarily be less sexy, could you? I feel like my eyes glow all the time now that your scent is always teasing me and I can feel even the most casual of your touches so much more.”

  He smiled. “Now you know how I’ve felt for the past six years. I had a hell of a time keeping my eyes from glowing around you.”

  Six years. She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’ve loved me that long. I was always so attracted to you but couldn’t bring myself to believe you’d ever be interested in a frumpy single mother like me, especially after Eliana started coming around.”

  He raked a gaze over her that felt more like a caress. “There’s nothing frumpy about you, Kayla. You always make me burn.”

  She stared at him.

  He smiled. “Get dressed. I want to show you something.”

  Ten minutes later, they stood in Nick’s living room back in Houston.

  Aidan released Nick’s shoulder. “Let me know when you’re ready to return.”

  Nick nodded. “Thank you.”

  Aidan teleported away.

  Kayla arched a brow. “What did you want to show me?”

  Taking her hand, he led her upstairs, down the hallway, past his bedroom to the door he always kept closed.

  She watched him curiously. His shoulders seemed a little tighter than they had been before, his smile a little more forced.

  “I have three art studios,” he said. “One in the garage, one across the hall, and this one.” Grasping the knob, he turned it and pushed the door open.

  Kayla stepped inside, eager to examine his work. She loved his paintings downstairs and—

  She halted. Her eyes widened. Turning, she stared up at him.

  Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorframe. He hadn’t looked this uncertain since he had explained to her that he was different after her accident.

  She returned her gaze to the art that filled the room. Countless canvases, drawing tablets, and papers leaned against every wall and rested on tables. She took another step inside. Then another. There were oil paintings. Acrylic paintings. Watercolors. Pastels. Charcoal drawings. Sketches. Colored-pencil drawings.

  And she was present in almost all of them.

  Some portrayed only her, capturing a wide range of expressions. Others showed her playing with Becca, or homeschooling her on the back patio, or the two of them working in the garden.

  Even the styles varied, some reminding her of the Pre-Raphaelites, others speaking of neoclassicism or the Renaissance, while yet more reflected postmodernism.

  She stood before one that he must have painted during the first year she’d lived next door to him. Becca appeared to be only twelve years old or thereabouts. The two of them were planting the first flowers Kayla had bought for their new home. Kayla was smiling down at Becca while Becca handed her a plant bearing bright purple pansies she had just removed from its plastic container. The detail was incredible, from the freckles on their faces to the wrinkles in their clothing to the mud stains that never quite washed out of their cotton gloves.

  Kayla moved around the room, noticed the easel he’d set up next to the window that overlooked her backyard. Picking up a sketchbook, she flipped through it. Setting it down, she carefully shifted paintings forward to look at those behind them.

  Finally, she turned to face Nick. “They’re beautiful.” So beautiful tears welled in her eyes. Since her divorce, most of the photos she’d snapped with her phone or her iPad featured only Becca. Those that included them both more often than not merely showed them posing and smiling for the camera. But these…

  Nick had captured so much more than their faces. He’d captured many of the wonderful, everyday moments they’d shared together as mother and daughter that she had been unable to catch with a camera.

  And those paintings and sketches that focused solely on Kayla…

  Those had captured the love he felt for her.

  He cleared his throat. “Oliver thought you might freak out when you saw them. He was afraid you’d think I’m a stalker or something.” Nick’s unease indicated he feared the same.

  She tried to hide her amusement. “Is that why you always kept this door closed?”

  He nodded. “I may not be able to stand out in the sun anymore, feel its warmth on my skin without burning, but I can still look out the window and enjoy it.” He ventured a step inside. “This was already my studio before you moved in next door. But once you did…” He took another step toward her. “You drew me even more than the sun I’ve so long been denied.”

  Kayla stared up at him, unable to look away. “Nick.”

  “Do you really like them?”

  She nodded.

  “You aren’t freaked out?”

  She squinted her eyes at him and pretended to contemplate it. “That depends. What’s in the studio across the hall?” Paintings of whoever had lived next door before her?

  He laughed. “Landscapes. Depictions of my home with the Iroquois. More artwork like that in my living room. I do draw and paint other things. You’re just my favorite subject.”

  She grinned. “Then I’m not freaked out.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, Kayla.”

  “I love you, too.” Rising onto her toes, she brushed her lips against his. “I can’t believe we’re going to have forever together.”

  “Me either. I don’t think forever will be long enough.” He lowered his mouth to hers, his kiss soft and slow and full of love.

  She smiled when he drew back. “So.”

  He arched a brow. “So?”

  She caressed the strong line of his jaw, then drew a finger down his neck to his chest. “Now that you’ve shown me your paintings… is there anything else you’d care to show me?”

  He grinned. “Hell yes.”

  She laughed when he lifted her into his arms and headed for the bedroom.

  Thank you for reading Broken Dawn.

  I hope you enjoyed Nick and Kayla’s story.

  If you liked Eliana’s character and are interested in seeing more of her, keep reading for a sneak peek into The Segonian, the second book in my new Aldebarian Alliance sci-fi romance series. Eliana will have quite an adventure in it.

  If this was your first time reading an Immortal Guardians book, I hope you enjoyed meeting some of the crew. Though their personalities and backgrounds vary, my Immortal Guardians are deeply loyal to each other (even the antisocial one *cough* Roland *cough*) and—despite the sometimes dark and violent lives they lead—love to laugh and tease each other like family. The men also all adore strong women. So if you appreciate heroines who kick ass, you’ll find a lot of them in my series.

  If you’re already a fan of the Immortal Guardians series and are worried you’ve seen the last of the North Carolina crew, don’t be. There will definitely be more Immortal Guardians books peopled with the characters you’ve come to know and love… including Cliff. If you’re a member of my Dianne Duvall Books Group on Facebook, then you already know that often when I’m writing one story, it sparks one or two others that tease my imagination. Well, when I wrote Death of Darkness, I became intensely curious about the Immortal Guardians in Texas who provided much-needed backup for the North Carolinian crew. And Nick and Kayla’s adventure quickly took off. So did Taelon and Lisa’s (The Lasaran). And Eliana’s (The Segonian). So I hope you’ll check out my Aldebarian series if you haven’t already. ;-)

  Thank you again for delving into Nick and Kayla’s story. If you enjoyed Broken Dawn, please consider rating or reviewing it at an online retailer of your choice. I appreciate your
support so much and am always thrilled when I see that one of my books made a reader happy. Ratings and reviews are also an excellent way to recommend an author’s books, create word of mouth, and help other readers find new favorites.

  THE SEGONIAN

  Aldebarian Alliance: Book 2

  —PREVIEW—

  Somewhere in the distance a voice spoke, dragging Eliana toward consciousness. She moaned as pain inundated her. The left side of her face and body burned as though flames seared it. Every time she drew in a breath, sharp spikes seemed to drive themselves into her rib cage.

  Clenching her teeth, she kept her eyelids squeezed shut and hoped the agony would pass.

  The voice spoke again. Male. His words incomprehensible.

  “What?” she whispered, trying to make sense of his speech.

  He addressed her once more, but she had no more luck deciphering his words.

  “What?” she muttered again. “I don’t…” Her thoughts remained muddled. “I don’t understand. Do you speak English? I can’t understand you.”

  A pause ensued. Then another male spoke, his voice deep and resonant. “This is Commander Dagon of the Ranasura. Our allies the Lasarans lost contact with the Kandovar and have enlisted our aid in searching for it. Are you from Earth?”

  “From Earth?” she repeated. “Earth as opposed to where?” Her mind and body finally adjusted to the pain enough for her to open her eyes. When she did, her heart slammed against her broken ribs and sheer terror swept through her. “Oh shit.”

  Endless dark space stretched before her, stars twinkling in the distance. She glanced down.

  “Oh shit!” And she was free floating through it in nothing but a baggy spacesuit and helmet. No ship. No escape pod. Just a freaking suit!

  Her breath quickened. “Where…?” She frantically looked around as much as she could and saw only a few jagged pieces of metal. “What the hell? What happened?”

  “You are one of the Earthlings who was on board the Kandovar? You are from Earth?”

  “Yes. I’m from Earth. What happened? Where the hell is the ship?”

  Memory slowly returned. She remembered being on the Lasaran ship. She had been serving as one of the guards for the gifted ones who were traveling to Lasara. The journey was supposed to take thirteen months or thereabouts. She’d spent the first four immersing herself in Lasaran culture. It had been amazing. Then alarms had suddenly blared and the ship had begun to shake.

  “Can you tell me where you are?” the man asked.

  “No. Where’s the ship? What happened? Are you Lasaran or Yona?”

  “I am Segonian. We are allies of the Lasarans and received a distress call indicating one of their ships was attacked while passing through a qhov’rum.”

  A qhov’rum. Right. That was the wormhole-like tunnel that had been propelling them toward Lasara. “Where are they? Are they okay?” And how the hell had she gotten separated from everyone else?

  “The Lasaran sovereign fears the ship was destroyed. The last data it transmitted indicated that escape pods were being deployed. But none have yet been recovered because they were flung out of the qhov’rum at different increments, scattering them across vast sectors of space. All allies of the Lasarans are currently searching for survivors.”

  Eliana stared through her clear visor. No escape pods surrounded her. “I don’t see anything.”

  “We can lock onto your location if you activate the beacon in your escape pod.”

  “What escape pod?” she cried. “There is no escape pod. It’s just me, floating here in a suit!” She didn’t care for the strident note that entered her voice but couldn’t help it. Panic was riding her hard.

  A heavy pause ensued.

  “You aren’t in an escape pod?” he asked, his voice grim.

  “No.”

  Rapid speech erupted, multiple males, conversing in another language.

  The Lasarans had given each of the gifted ones and Immortal Guardians from Earth a universal translator implant that would enable them to decipher most alien languages. But Eliana’s body had rejected it, so she’d had to wear one in her ear like an earbud.

  She must have lost it in the chaos of the attack, because she couldn’t understand a word these men were saying. “Hello?” she called, interrupting them.

  The commander cleared his throat. “I wished to check the accuracy of my language translator. You are not in a pod? You are only protected by a suit?”

  “Yes.”

  “And neither the ship nor any pods are within your view?”

  “Right. There’s nothing.” Although her helmet did limit her view. “Hold on. Let me see if I can twist around and get a better—” As soon as she swiveled her hips in an attempt to turn around, agony shot through her right side, all the way up into her chest. “Ah! Shit!”

  Resting a hand on her side, she held her breath and clenched her teeth.

  “Earthling?” he said sharply. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Maybe the pain would ease if she remained still.

  “You are injured?”

  “I’m fine,” she gritted. But she could feel warm moisture creeping down her right arm, down her side, down her hip, and recognized the signs of bleeding.

  “Earthling—”

  “Eliana,” she corrected. “My name is Eliana.” Even in her current, terrifying circumstances, being called Earthling was just too weird.

  “Are you injured, Eliana?”

  “Yes.”

  “How badly?”

  She glanced down. “I don’t know. I can’t exactly open my suit and take a look, but—judging by the feel of it—I’ve had worse.” Hunting and slaying psychotic vampires on a nightly basis could sometimes result in injuries that would prove fatal to ordinary humans. As an Immortal Guardian, however, she could usually recover from such in anywhere from minutes to a few hours… if she had a goodly supply of blood on hand.

  He spoke softly to someone in that foreign language.

  “What’s happening? I can’t understand you,” she said.

  “Because you have no beacon, we will have to determine your location by tracing your comm signal. Once we do that, we can come to you, but it will take time.”

  “Okay.”

  “How much oxygen do you have left?”

  “I don’t know. How do I find out?”

  “On the left forearm of your suit, there is a flap you can pull back. Can you open it?”

  Though the rest of the suit was baggy, the gloves that covered her hands were made of a stretchy material that reminded her of spandex and weren’t too huge on her. She found a little flap on her left sleeve and pulled. It drew back as though stuck with Velcro, revealing an electronic screen about the size of a cell phone, bracketed by multicolored buttons. “Okay. Now what?”

  “Press the blue button.”

  As soon as she did, a female voice spoke in that other language.

  More muted conversation erupted.

  “What did she say?” Eliana asked.

  Conversation ceased.

  “Hello?”

  “You have the equivalent of twenty-six Earth hours of oxygen left.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. She had worried she only had minutes left. “How far away are you?”

  “We have not yet determined that,” he said. “We are still tracing the signal.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t take this long for them to trace the signal if she were only a day away from them.

  Crap.

  The men returned to their soft conversation. She was glad the commander left the line of communication open. She was trying very hard not to freak out, and hearing their calm voices helped.

  She tried once more to remember the events that had landed her out here in the middle of nowhere. “We were attacked,” she murmured.

  “What?” the commander asked.

  “We were attacked, like you said. I was with Ganix. I was trying to get him t
o help me talk one of the Yona soldiers into sparring with me.”

  “Sparring with you?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure he understood the word.

  “Yes. Sparring means… fighting or engaging in battle.”

  “This Yona offended you?”

  She laughed, then grunted when pain shot through her chest. “No. I meant fight with me as if we were training, not as if we were enemies. I had never met a Yona soldier until I boarded the Kandovar, and they really intrigue me. They’re always so stoic, you know? I mean, they never exhibit any emotion. I’ve never met anyone like that before and was curious to see if that changed when they fought. Do they get angry? Do they get frustrated? Do they get excited, thrilled by the rush of battle? I was trying to get Ganix to help me talk one into sparring with me so I could find out when alarms started blaring. A voice came over the speaker, saying we were under attack. The ship began to take fire, and the situation degenerated quickly. Ganix told me I should get my people into escape pods in case the worst should happen. Apparently fighting while racing through a qhov’rum isn’t easy. So I hauled ass to get my charges onto escape pods—”

  “What are charges?”

  “There were other women from Earth on the ship. I was one of their guards, tasked with keeping them safe. So once Ganix told me to get them to the escape pods, I hauled ass to get all my charges into the pods.”

  “Were you able to do so?”

  “Yes.” She’d had preternatural speed on her side and had deposited most of them in pods in the same time it would take a single Lasaran to settle into one. “Then I helped the Lasarans.”

  “You did not enter a pod with your friends?”

  “No. I guess I should have. They were my top priority. But the ship’s shields began to fail, and Lasarans were being injured. So I helped as many as I could reach the pods—”

  “Even though the Lasarans were not your people?”

  She paused. “Of course. It doesn’t matter that they weren’t my people. They were kind to me. And my friends. So I helped as many as I could.” She frowned. “I would’ve helped more, but Ganix caught up with me and kept ordering me to get to a pod myself. Then there was an explosion and… some guy talking gibberish in my ear woke me up.” She glanced down. “I wasn’t wearing this suit when the attack happened. Ganix must have stuffed me into it while I was unconscious.” He probably had tried like hell to get her to an escape pod, too. “I hope he’s all right.”