First Blade (Awakening Book 1)

by Jane Hinchey

  Today she braided it in a single plait down her back. Her green eyes watched passively back at her from the mirror as she assessed her appearance. Pretty much like every other day, she looked the same. Average height, average curves. Tanned skin - inevitable if you went around in shorts and tank tops all summer. And her latest look, dark shadows beneath her eyes.

  In her workshop her stereo played the latest Lady Antebellum album, the massive doors of the stable were pinned back, and she'd opened all the windows, enjoying the summer day. A sheen of sweat covered her skin and particles of sawdust stuck to her as she stripped back and repaired an old wardrobe. To Georgia, this was heaven on earth, where she found peace and tranquility that could calm her busy mind.

  At dusk, she packed away her tools and headed inside to shower. She pulled on a clean pair of jeans, a good pair of black cowboy boots, and a loose white cotton blouse. Her hair was still in its braid and she'd made sure no bits of wood or sawdust were stuck in it. She slicked on some lip gloss and was good to go.

  With her customary spin of wheels and stereo blasting, she peeled out of her driveway and headed north, towards the homestead farther up the road. They were far enough out of town that the road wasn't sealed, sending dust and loose gravel flying up from her tires. In a matter of minutes, she skidded to a halt in Zak's driveway and killed the engine. Jumping out of her truck she smoothed suddenly sweaty palms against her denim clad legs and approached the front door.

  The wooden double doors had recently been painted a glossy black. Georgia pressed the doorbell and waited.

  The door swung open, and Veronica ushered her inside.

  "This is Frank." Veronica indicated the bulk of a man by her side. Also a vampire, Georgia noted. Holy shit, what had she gotten herself into? She hoped she wasn't dinner.

  Frank approached, his big bulky hands reaching out and frisking her before she could step away.

  "What the fuck!" Georgia pulled back, outraged at having him touch her. "Hands off, buddy," she growled at him, her body unconsciously falling into a fighting stance.

  Frank raised his hands, palms toward her in an apologetic manner, eyeing her warily.

  "Rules. We've had trouble before. No weapons, no wires," he stated gruffly.

  Georgia stretched her neck from side to side, letting her stance settle. She supposed security was a big concern for Zak, however, in a town like Redmeadows, no one ever got frisked. And certainly not upon entering a home at the owner's invitation.

  Annoyed, Georgia followed Veronica down a long hallway, building debris scattered around, the smell of sawdust lingering in the air. She was led to a large room that she guessed to be the formal dining room, judging by the massive dining table holding center court. The table was damaged, with scratches, gouges, and splits. A quick calculation and Georgia reckoned it would easily seat twenty people. Unfortunately, there weren't twenty matching chairs - there were a handful of mismatched kitchen chairs at one end. Seated at one of those chairs was Zak Goodwin himself.

  He looked just like the photos on the back of his books. Hair as black as night, dark brows arching over equally dark eyes. Designer stubble across a strong, square jaw, full lips with a cupid's bow that made you want to trace your finger, or tongue, over it. Geez, the man was sex on legs, and Georgia wasn't immune. He radiated heat, and the earthy smell of elements, rich and potent, surrounded her.

  He looked up as she approached, his dark eyes holding hers. Georgia sucked in a breath, the sheer presence of him stealing the air from her. She faltered for a moment, trying to feel him. He wasn't a vampire, but he was...something. She couldn't put her finger on it. What she could feel was the raw sexual magnetism that practically oozed from his pores. It washed over her in a sensual wave, like a warm caress. Shrugging the heady sensation off, she continued toward him, holding out her hand in greeting.

  "Georgia Pearce."

  He rose, his hand closing around hers, searing her flesh and sending tendrils of fire up her arm. Her hand tingled and a familiar flash created spots before her eyes before images shimmered in her mind.

  Zak lay on the rough stone ground, a knife buried up to the hilt in the center of his chest, the handle intricately carved with three ribbons entwined around the handle. A knife exactly like the one currently hidden in her farmhouse. Zak's eyes were open, staring lifelessly at nothing.

  Within seconds the vision was over, and with a slight shake of her head Georgia shook off the residual disorientation that always followed. The color left her face when it clicked that she'd just witnessed his death. Should she say something? But what could you say, "Hey, I think I just saw you die? And by the way, I happen to own the knife that's going to ultimately end up sticking out of your chest." Yeah right, hello crazy lady.

  "Thank you for coming. I'm Zak, but of course, you already knew that," he smiled self-depreciatingly, releasing her hand.

  "Who doesn't? Your fangirls and the damn paparazzi have overrun our town!"

  "Fangirls?" he drawled, tilting his head.

  "You know the ones," she shrugged, "hanging around like they don't have a home to go to in the hopes of catching a glimpse of you, making a nuisance of themselves."

  "A nuisance? Surely the influx of visitors to this town is good for business." Oh but he had the sexiest accent, she found it hard to focus on what he was saying.

  "It's helped a little," she admitted grudgingly, "if they took all the squealing and swooning down a few notches, it would almost be bearable. Getting asked a hundred times a day if I've seen you is getting old. Fast."

  "So you're not a fan?"

  "On the contrary. I've read all your books. You tell a good tale, and I enjoy your stories, but..."

  "But you don't feel the need to send me your underwear in the mail?" he guessed.

  "I don't see the point," she agreed, "It wouldn't fit you. Kinda wasteful."

  He laughed, "Can I get you a drink? Beer? Wine? Coffee?" he inquired, one dark brow arching.

  "Coffee would be good."

  His eyes left hers to settle on Veronica who stood just behind Georgia's shoulder.

  "Two coffees, thanks, Veronica."

  He indicated that she pull up a chair next to him. Settling into her seat, Georgia released a shaky breath.

  "Everything okay?"

  "Sure. Just a bit nervous to be honest," she lied, wiping her clammy palms on the legs of her jeans.

  Zak frowned, his brows pinching together over dark eyes, and tilted his head to the side as if wondering what she was thinking.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, making it difficult to breathe, to concentrate.

  "What are you?" His blunt question took her by surprise and she looked at him, green eyes wide.

  "What?"

  "You're something more than human. Something happened just now when our hands touched, I felt your energy change, what was it? What did you do?"

  "I've no idea what you're talking about," Georgia deflected. Fuck, how could he tell? Feel her energy change? What did THAT mean?

  His hand reached up, spanning her jaw and tilting her face to his, studying her intently. Her skin burned from where he touched her. Shit, shit, shit, she was so busted!

  A familiar tingling danced across her skin where his hand touched, a familiar heat swirled around her, sizzling her nerve endings and pooling low in her belly. Her eyes dropped to his lips, so close she only had to lean forward slightly and they'd touch. And then she knew why he was so familiar.

  "You're him," she said, her voice shakier than she'd have liked. "You visit my dreams. How is that possible?"

  With infinite care, he slid his fingertips over her bottom lip, his expression intent.

  "Sounds intriguing," he murmured, "tell me...how precisely do I manage to visit your dreams?"

  Mesmerized, she watched him watching her. The touch of his fingers on her lips burnt a fiery trail and she was this close to opening her mouth and touching him with her tongue.

  Veronica broke the spell,
returning with their drinks.

  He released her and she sank back in her chair, trying to orient herself. A cup of coffee was placed in front of her and she busied herself adding sugar and milk, her eyes firmly on her cup while she stirred. She could feel Zak's stare but refused to meet his eyes again. Much to her relief, he let the matter drop. Pulling the iPad that lay on the table toward him, he showed her the floor plan of the house and told her of his plans for renovating the big old building.

  He wanted her to build him a custom made bed for the master bedroom.

  "These are the kind of styles I like, but I'll leave the final design to you." Leaning forward he showed her a half dozen pictures on his iPad. Flicking through them he looked up, eyes pinning her in place. "Think you can manage that?"

  "Definitely." She nodded, jumping a little when he slapped his palm on the table top. "And this? I'd like it restored."

  "It's a beauty," she breathed, running her hand over the old timber.

  "I'll need chairs too. Twenty."

  "Of course."

  When he revealed how much he was willing to pay her for the custom bed and dining table restoration Georgia knew there was no way she could turn him down. It would pay the mortgage on the farm and the lease on the shop (and Skye's apartment) for the next six months.

  "Just so you know, he's mine."

  Georgia had been opening the door of her truck, getting ready to leave, when Veronica's words stopped her. She looked at the other woman over her shoulder.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Oh you can play your eye fuck games all you like," Veronica sneered, "and he probably will fuck you 'cos you're fresh meat, but I thought it only fair to warn you that, seriously..." she eyed Georgia up and down with disdain, "you'll only hold his interest for a heartbeat. Once he gets you to spread your legs his interest in you will end." She spoke crudely and it made Georgia's flesh crawl.

  "He's mine. He'll use you and be back in my bed before you know it."

  "And that doesn't bother you?" Georgia challenged, "That you can't keep his interest enough to stay faithful to you?"

  Veronica tensed, her hands curling into fists "That's what he loves about me. I allow him to take other lovers, and he allows the same of me. Sometimes we bring these lovers into our bed and share the fun. But no matter who he fucks, he ALWAYS returns to my bed."

  Georgia felt sick at the mental image of Zak rolling around in bed with Veronica and god knows who else.

  "We've been together many years," Veronica continued, voice cutting, "I know him like no other woman, and only I can give him what he needs. What he really needs."

  "Whatever." Georgia shrugged, faking a casualness she didn't feel and climbed into her truck, wheels spinning and stereo blasting. Psycho bitch.

  5

  Zak listened to the roar of Georgia's truck as she left.

  "What a woman." She intrigued him. She was the reason he had moved to the other side of the world. When the dagger, the first blade, had activated his ring he'd traced it. It had brought him to her doorstep.

  He'd managed to infiltrate her dreams, but not her mind. The first night he'd visited her sleep he hadn't been prepared for the surge of desire that had flamed between them. He'd never felt anything like it. It was as if the fires of hell had consumed him, burning him to his very soul. He hadn't been able to stop himself from returning night after night, her warm flesh tempting him; her soft lips moaning as she'd writhed beneath him, begging for release.

  She was more potent in the flesh. In person, she appeared wanton and gorgeous and Zak had trouble catching his breath. He'd managed to stop himself from throwing her onto the dining table and sheathing himself in her. Just. It had taken a considerable amount of control. Such sensations were foreign to him. He usually took what he wanted, when he wanted it. Georgia was different. He didn't want to just take from her; he wanted her to give.

  "Well?" Frank asked from the doorway.

  "She's an enigma. I can't read her." In five hundred years there had never been a mind he couldn't enter, read their thoughts, play with their memories or even wipe a mind clean if he so desired. Except for Georgia Pearce.

  Frank chuckled at the stunned look on his face, enjoying seeing his boss so rattled. "Why do you think that is?" he asked

  Zak shrugged. "I'm pretty sure she's a seer. But even so, I've met seers before and been able to read them."

  "Could it be because she awoke the blade? That is has some power over her?"

  "I don't know. But I’m going to find out." No matter how attractive he found her, no matter how the burning need to possess her was ever present, it did nothing to explain how a seer who was able to block him happened to end up activating the first blade. He didn't believe in coincidence or chance. There was more to Georgia Pearce and he was determined to find out exactly what it was.

  The following morning Georgia drove over to Zak's place, iPad and tape measure on the seat beside her. She'd spent the evening nutting out a few concepts for the master bedroom and had transferred them to her iPad to show Zak.

  Designing the bed had kept her mind off of the man himself, although it was a double-edged sword considering it was his bed she was fantasizing over. For the first time in a month, he didn't visit her dreams, but that didn't stop her from dreaming of him, of the feelings he aroused in her. She'd tossed and turned as she'd dreamt of his hands on her, then the unwelcome presence of Veronica in their bed, touching him. He'd rolled from her and into the other woman's arms and Georgia had wanted to cry. The dream had ended with the vision of him dead and she'd woken in a panic, heart thundering in her chest.

  She knew her visions weren't set in stone; they were only true at the time of her viewing them. People changed their minds, and that in turn could change future events. That's why Georgia didn't like to reveal her visions very often. If people didn't like what they heard, they took action to avoid it, but sometimes, that action led to the same result. Fate could be a bitch.

  Frank met her at the door this time and let her in - she eyeballed him as he took a step toward her, then quickly stepped back without frisking.

  "That's more like it," she grumbled, clipping her tape measure to her shorts pocket and clasping her iPad to her chest.

  "Is Zak around? I've got an idea for his bedroom."

  "I'm all for hearing about bedroom ideas," he spoke from behind her.

  "Jesus!" she gasped, clutching a hand to her chest in fright, "Do you always sneak up behind people?"

  "I wouldn't call it sneaking when I'm in my own home," he commented. His gaze was as intense as she remembered it.

  "I've got a concept for your bed, plus I need to measure up properly."

  "This way," with a sweeping gesture he indicated the staircase in the foyer. Georgia preceded him up the stairs, acutely aware of him behind her.

  He showed her to an empty room.

  "Let's see what you've got."

  "What?" she gasped, spinning to face him.

  "Your design? Don't you want to show me?" His grin told her he knew exactly where her mind was, and it wasn't on interior design.

  "Oh. Yes. Of course." She'd been standing in the middle of the room, looking around, but came back to him where he leaned against the doorframe. He straightened to look at her iPad, standing so close their hips touched.

  He didn't speak, and Georgia started to feel nervous. Shit, he hated it. Damn, she'd never had anyone hate her designs before.

  "This is really good Georgia," he finally said, "it's more than I was expecting."

  "Oh, do you think it'll cost too much? I could possibly source a cheaper wood."

  "You misunderstand. Money is no object," that dimple appeared in his cheek again, "The level of detail, the design is so unique."

  A blush heated her cheeks. She had designed the bed for him - the sexy hero in her dreams, the mysterious hero in his books, the fantasy that her imagination insisted on spinning around him, no matter how much she told herself to cut it out. She di
dn't know how to respond, so she kept silent.

  "This one, definitely." He touched the iPad. "I'll transfer half the funds into your account today so you can order what you need, the remaining half on completion. Email me an invoice or your bank details or something." He turned to leave, suddenly business-like.

  "Ok."

  "Ooops, forgot - got something for you." He spun back to her, clasping her hand in his and leading her across the room to two doors. Opening one of the doors he flicked the light switch to the windowless room - obviously intended to be a walk-in closet. On the floor were boxes containing top-of-the-line power tools, chisels, hammers, handsaws, basically a carpenter's wet dream.

  "For you." He indicated the tools. "Since I'll need you to work on site it makes sense for you to have a set of tools here at your disposal."

  Her mouth was hanging open. "This is too much," she whispered, turning to him, her eyes shining.

  "Want to show your appreciation?" he leered at her, crowding her.

  Exasperated, she pushed him back. What is it with men and one track minds?

  "I'm not one of your conquests," she muttered, pissed at him for ruining the moment. She wanted to get her hands on the exquisite tools he'd bought for her; now he was the tool.

  "You could be," he offered, his expression hopeful.

  "Pft. In your dreams." She stomped away from him, setting up to measure where she wanted the bed to go.

  "You're already in my dreams, sweetheart," she heard as he left the room, leaving her flustered and flushed.

  Back at home later that afternoon, Georgia had just finished helping the local courier guys load a desk, kitchen dresser, and rocking chair into the back of their truck and was standing outside of her workshop, stretching when another truck turned into her drive. On the back of the tray was Zak's dining table. Following the truck was a familiar yellow Jeep, Zak behind the wheel.