Duality (Cordelia Kelly #1): Empath Urban Fantasy

by Hawk, Ryanne

  “Close your eyes, Cordelia,” he said with a smile on his face.

  Busted.

  I lay on a sea of white down and let my mind wander to how big his cock might be and how good he might be at pleasing me. Just as I pictured him naked above me, pushing his velvet piece into me, a soft, silky sensation caressed my clit, and caught off guard, I jumped.

  “Would you relax?”

  “What was—?”

  “If you lay back down, I’ll show you.”

  A yearning sprang from my deep within my spirit, but my mind blistered with the ramifications. “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  I bound from the bed and ran out of the room before I changed my mind. I skidded to a stop in front of my bathroom, and a muffled snore met my ears. I peeked into the living room and spied Zach, asleep on my sofa, curled in the fetal position, his aura a warm amber color.

  “Cordelia?” Sol asked from my bedroom doorway.

  I rested my head against the bathroom entry and closed my eyes, seeking solace. “What.”

  “I’m sorry for pushing.”

  “Me too,” I said as I opened the door then locked it behind me. We both knew a locked door wouldn’t stop either one of us, but the security the lock gave me was enough to make me sigh with relief, and just a hint of pain.

  All my life I’d run—from life, from death, and even from myself. There were days when I was so alone and imprisoned in my own head hours passed by and I didn’t remember a single thing about what I had done.

  My life had been a constant struggle of identity crisis, my head and heart being pulled in two different directions simultaneously.

  The air around me ripened with the pungent scent of black pepper, and sweat dripped down my arms and forehead.

  Outside the door, Sol said, “I’ll wait here. I won’t leave you alone.” A soft thud sounded against the door as I imagined Sol sitting down, leaning back, and resting.

  The room was suddenly too hot, and my heart thundered in my ears. My knees buckled, and I fell onto the springy moss, no longer able to stand under the immense pressure cloying through my system. My eyes burned, my blood scorched my skin from the inside out, and my hands turned cooked lobster red.

  “Oh fuck,” I yelled at the same time the door to the bathroom kicked in, and Sol burst into the room.

  He took one look at me lying splayed on the floor, my skin blistering from the heat, and swore.

  “Your powers are manifesting. I should have known.” He shook his head then sprang into action. He knelt by my side and checked my pulse. The pounding in my ears signaled a rapid staccato; I would have told him the pressure was high had I been able to speak.

  My hands itched and burned from the inside. The sensation reminded me of little tiny red ants crawling all over and eating away at my flesh.

  “Just what the world needs, zombie ants.”

  “There are no zombie ants, baby,” Sol said in a hushed whisper laced with humor.

  I was glad he found humor in my pain.

  “Not at your pain, Cordelia, just trying to take your mind off the pain.”

  My mind spun and I blurted out, “I need to stop talking out loud, but I don’t know when I’m doing it.”

  Sol laughed, and the sound cooled my skin for a moment. He began to whisper, chanting in a language I didn’t understand.

  “What are you—”

  “Shh, I’m concentrating.”

  I thrashed on the floor, sending pieces of dirt flying, and Sol rested his hands on my naked hips as he pressed me down, trying to keep me contained. Or still. An electric pulse surged through my body, and my back arched in a deep bow. My feet dug into the moss, almost planting or embedding myself in the floor like a shoot.

  I tried to visualize roots growing from my feet and limbs to hold myself down. My brain recited a pagan prayer. “Mother Earth, Spirit Mother, please send me the most positive energy and light possible in this time and space to watch over me and those I share this experience with. Send to us the highest force or forces possible to keep us safe, focused, and positive in our intent. In return, we give thanks and gratitude, love and positive light, for the universal good of all. Blessed be, so it is.”

  “I never manifested full powers before. I’m scared.”

  “I have. Don’t worry, you’ll be all right.”

  I opened my eyes and stared into his. They conveyed worry, determination, and a hint of something else, something darker. “Why are you afraid?”

  He nibbled his lower lip and gave me a half smile. “Who said I was worried?”

  A flash of hot heat whipped through my bones. Then the metallic tang of chill roared over me, freezing the inferno as it raged, soft as snow falling against my skin.

  A faint hiss and sizzle sounded in the bathroom.

  My fingers ached and I welded my eyes shut. The pain intensified every time I breathed in, and I decided I didn’t need to breath anymore.

  “Cordelia, for God’s sakes, you can handle this. Take a damn breath.”

  I gasped and inhaled, my lungs near bursting from the frantic intake of oxygen. Then my hands shot open and the room filled with the awful stench of burning flesh. I opened my eyes as flames blasted from my stinging finger tips just as Sol jumped on top of me and threw my arms above my head, shoving my hands under the moss into the dirt, smothering the fire. The towels in my bathroom blazed and pieces of wallpaper singed off and drifted on a soft wind.

  Sol’s face was inches from mine, his warm breath fanning across my face, awakening every nerve in my body even further. Our gazes met and locked, his eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he rocked his body against mine unconsciously. He held both my wrists above my head, and I lost myself in a sea of longing as I stared up into his serious face, my entire body still smoldering.

  He lowered his head a fraction then parted his lips on a low exhale. His tongue snaked out to wet them just as he closed the distance and fused our mouths together in a soft, yet searing kiss. He pressed his chest against mine, the rough fabric of his shirt a stark contrast and much needed jarring from the manifestation of my powers. He sank into me, and I melded myself to him.

  He released my wrists, running his hands down my arms then cradled my face in his strong palms, pulling up away from me for a moment. He stared into my face, lines etched in his skin as his heart thumped against mine. “Cordelia” was all he said, and the way he said my name had my gut clenching and my core buzzing with need and fear.

  I couldn’t think in his presence; he overwhelmed me. Every iota about him ensnared me, incensed me, and intoxicated me to the point all I wanted was to belong to him.

  “Show me, Sol. Show me you want me as much as I want you.”

  Sol dropped his forehead on mine and softly rubbed noses with me with his eyes closed. “I don’t think I can be what you need, Cordelia. You deserve better than me.”

  His hands caressed my sides, the outer edges of my breasts, and then he rose up onto his knees and elbows, opening his eyes.

  I locked my legs around his waist, preventing him from going without a fight, and boy, was I ready for a fight. My head throbbed, my heart hurt, my body felt pummeled and abused, but I wasn’t letting him go.

  “No. Sol, you’re wrong.”

  His body jerked and tensed. “I am wrong for you.”

  “Or maybe you’re perfect for me.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “How can you know you’re so wrong for me?”

  He looked away, his eyes sad. “I will never be able to live up to your expectations. You are too much light, and I am too much darkness. I’d eventually fail and let you down.”

  I reached up and touched his face, drawing his gaze back to me. I wanted to look into his eyes and soul as I confessed. “Sometimes it feels like I’m holding up an iron chandelier with Swarovski crystals hanging from everywhere and powering the light all by myself. Eventually I’m going to get too tired, burn out, and dro
p the chandelier, breaking all the crystals and turning off all the lights. Some days, it feels like there will never be anyone close enough to help hold it up with me. Everyone watches from around the room, planning how they can add their crystals on too. They are dealing with their own shit and trying to get rid of some of their own drama, and so they come to me.

  “I only have two arms. I can’t light the world up, keep people safe, and remove the dead weight at the same time without the whole thing falling apart and toppling over on top of me. Anyway, that was very melodramatic. But sometimes it’s quite crushing being me.”

  He looked puzzled above me. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I secretly hoped you might be the one to help me hold the chandelier up. To keep my balance or pluck the dead weight off me.” I sighed. “A sounding board and a mirror, I guess. Maybe that’s wrong of me, and I’m truly sorry. I shouldn’t have put so much weight or pressure on our relationship, even in my own mind.”

  In that instant I realized I’d started falling in love with him. Love is never easy, and it often comes at the wrong time or when you least expect it. Love is messy and complicated, but true love is the ease of communication, the effortlessness of allowing the other person to be who they are, and enjoying their presence and company despite their flaws and faults.

  I started to shake from the force of truth as tears pooled in the corners of my eyes, deep from within the wellspring of my soul.

  “Baby, I am undeserving of your love. I’m so fucking flawed it’s not even funny. I’ve done things that would make you cringe and turn away from me. Horrific and terrible things.” Remorse oozed from him in waves of salty tears.

  I reached up and wiped his tears with my thumbs before letting my own finally escape and slide down my cheeks. I couldn’t speak around the sobs choking me. Instead, we spoke with our eyes and hearts, never needing to utter a word, his feelings and mine so intertwined. His soul sang to mine, and mine sang back to his. A low, slow, and deep melody only we could hear. I pressed my lips to his, just once, licking the salty taste of sadness then put my head back down.

  A myriad of conflicting emotions swept over me, and my heart exploded in my chest with a rush of feeling. His, mine, I wasn’t sure.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at Sol from under hooded eyes. “Do you believe an emotional, physic connection will make sex better or more intense? Is rapture as much a state of mind as a physical response to stimuli?”

  Sol locked eyes with me, and a smile radiated from his entire being. “Emotional sex is so powerful and consuming in a way primal sex is not.”

  “I've never had an emotional connection with any of my partners. Not really. I always craved that level of intimacy, but never achieved it. I don't want to be lonely anymore. Will you make love to me, Sol?” I didn't notice I'd started to cry again.

  He gently wiped my tears and whispered, “You are my light. My beacon when I am lost. You call to me in a way I can’t ignore.”

  “Will you hold me, please? I need to feel connected. I need quiet and peace. I’m on fire.” I laughed a little. “Literally and figuratively.”

  “There is no way I could hug you, snuggle with you, spoon with you and not desperately want to make love to you or fuck you—probably both at the same time. Is that what you want, Cordelia? You have to be sure.”

  “So do you, Sol.”

  “Would you like to know my real name?” he whispered into my ear as he bent down low and put his arms under me.

  “Sol isn’t your real name?”

  He shook his head, scooped me up off the floor, and uttered, “I’ve never told anyone my given name. It’s Sisko. Sisko Solomon Winterborn,” he said as he carried me towards the bedroom.

  I tasted his name on my tongue, the sweet and sour mix settled into my memory bank, and rightness eased the burning.

  “What would you like me to call you?”

  He gave me a devilish look as he tossed me on the bed. “Right now, you can call me, ‘Sir’.”

  "For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul." ~Judy Garland

  Chapter Eleven

  “I want—” I snapped my mouth shut, looked away, and stared out the window into the pre-dawn morning. The world outside remained in the grey void, the peaceful moment before the sunrise cast the demons out of the world and sunshine ruled the earth once more.

  “What do you want?” he asked as he crawled over me onto the bed and lay beside me.

  Unsure how to answer without giving myself away, without giving him a way to hurt me, I continued to stare out the paned glass as tiny rays of color peeked through the rain splatter and peppered my floor with prisms of unfiltered happiness.

  He reached over and grabbed my chin, pulling my face back toward his, and I helplessly locked eyes with him, his aura tugging me deeper, holding me closer, forging a bond so deep in love I barely saw straight.

  “Tell me, Cordelia.” He rolled his large body over mine, and his heat permeated me on every level. Physical, mental, internal, all my passions ignited.

  He rested on his arms above me, and his strength called to the primal being inside. A complex layer I didn’t fully understand because I’d never experienced this deep and profound ache in my life. In the honest moments of my mind, I feared he would break me when he left. I feared giving him the power to hurt me, but I had no choice. The words wanted to escape and move into his heart.

  A small piece of me still believed in hope. However minute or unattainable hope seemed, I wanted the childlike wonder. “I want you to love me. I need someone who needs me. But most of all, I know you understand me, and I crave that bond so much that when I’m with you, it’s all I feel. It consumes me. Fires me. Eats at my fine tuned control until there is nothing left of me, but the feel of you in my bones.”

  He clasped my hand and brought it up to his chest, pressing me against his heart as he closed his eyes. Wave after wave of warmth and joy cascaded over me, racing from his hand into my hand, from his heart, down his arms and into my body where the energy circled and settled everywhere it touched—sweet like honey and soft like cotton candy.

  As I watched, his pupils dilated, and the warm color of his eyes bled to black. He smiled with such a boyish grin I melted further. “I love you the way I’ve always wanted to love someone. Without any reservations.”

  “What do we do now?”

  He pressed his forehead against mine. “I have no idea. I’ve never experienced this before. I’ve spent my whole life searching, feeling like something vital was missing, but had no clue what I needed until I touched you.”

  “How did this happen so quickly?”

  “I don’t know, Cordelia. One minute I traveled alone and weary. The next moment you slid under my shields and into my heart and soul. You’re the missing puzzle piece I’ve longed for. I’m not going to question why. We just are.”

  A buzz started in my toes and plaited its way around my legs, up my thighs, caressed my stomach, and zeroed in on my heart that pumped blood faster and faster. The buzz became a roar, like a thousand bees swarming to protect their hive and queen, an endless and piercing sound. My mind was blissfully blank as every ounce of blood fired, and I trembled.

  “Will you tell me of your mother?” I asked with some hesitation, unsure whether he trusted me enough to share, but also because I needed a reprieve, something to occupy my mind. Small talk to settle the rolling waves.

  Sol eased down beside me, and I rolled over and buried my face against his chest. He stroked my hair and down my back. His chest heaved. Then he blew out his breath. “My mother was a product of a Light Royal mating with a human female. She lived for sixty years, until she had gray hair and wrinkled skin. She was lovely.” He didn’t utter any more words, but a soft calm radiated from his fingertips, allaying my worries, fears, aches and pains.

  The slow kindle melted me as if I was a pan of chocolate chips on a stove, a
nd I closed my eyes as waves of comfort washed over me.

  “I love you, Cordelia Kelly,” he whispered so softly as I settled in his arms, I wasn’t sure he’d said the words at all. "We're not only soul mates, you're my twin-flame."

  The dream started so eerily, like they always did. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep until a dense fog eased around my peripheral vision and I became an observer in my dreamscape.

  She sat rigid in her favorite chair and stared out the window, silently weeping away the pain and turmoil. Thoughts drifted and spun, too fast to latch onto. Then they escaped—fat, cool tears dripped down her cheeks and added to the sadness overwhelming her heart. Her soul leaked the agony she held within, never showing the world how she suffered inside.

  Her friends assumed her bright smile and soothing words were natural and internal when in reality they were projected. A facade she cultivated to hide the scared girl, and the sensitive woman afraid to let go and let anyone get too close. The whispered words from her mother cloying around in her brain, “You are cold, Cordelia, and you will never be happy.”

  Outside, the night’s icy slush covered the ground, creating a white world of cold. Barren trees swayed and creaked with the swirling wind; each snap made her body jerk and reminded her of her failures. The weaker branches splintered and fell all around her home from the massive chaos she contained within her spirit. She trembled violently as strife poured out of her and she watched, helpless to stop its destructive force.

  “Go outside,” the wind whispered as the gentle puffs of air rustled her tattered dress, and she stood on shaky legs.

  She opened the door and walked out into the early, brisk, frigid morning. Her breath made long streams of steam as she stepped barefoot onto the stone path leading to the forest. Her heart hammered a mélange, and every step stung her delicate feet, yet she continued on, the gradual numbness drowning out the myriad of sensations she no longer wished to feel.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” she murmured up into the dark sky. She flung her arms out like wings, tilted her head back as she closed her eyes, then dropped to her knees, and opened the floodgates to her heart.