Of course I will. I’m fucking cursed.
Thinking of mates made his attention zero back in on the mystery woman. She couldn’t have been much taller than five feet. Everything about her triggered his inborn need to protect and to claim. The tiger in him roared with satisfaction.
Mine.
His nostrils flared, and for a split second he feared his hands had shifted form in front of everyone. He had to glance down at them to be sure he was still in human form. He nearly cut and run from the area, fearing he’d do the unthinkable and turn into a fucking tiger.
He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
All he did know was the woman called to him on every level possible. She couldn’t be his mate. He’d decided on a whim to return to his hometown in an effort to avoid fate. He’d outsmarted destiny.
Hadn’t he?
She continued to stare in Jon’s direction and it felt as if all around him ceased to be. All except him and the mysterious woman. Her sweet smell reached him. She smelled of a mix of lilacs and roses. It reminded him of freshly washed linens and running free. His body hardened and his lips parted more, the unlit cigarette falling to the ground, all but forgotten.
The man near her thankfully moved on, leaving her be, which was just as well because Jon wasn’t sure he’d have handled it much longer. He stared at her through his dark sunglasses, every ounce of him keenly aware of her presence.
She turned slightly, appearing as if she were nudged when nothing was around her. Hurrying away in the direction of the seats, she left him standing there, dumbfounded, his tiger still restless, his cock still hard, and his head a confused mass of jumbled thoughts.
None of them made any sense.
The only thing that seemed to be clear was he had to be closer to her. He had to touch her. To smell her. To taste her.
“Get a fucking grip,” he whispered, shaking his head as he ran his hands through his closely cut blond hair.
More people poured in, all taking a seat as a man stepped up to the podium. He tapped the microphone, drawing their attention. Jon had nearly forgotten why he was there, his gaze was still locked on the dark-haired beauty who seemed to be saving a seat for someone as she shook her head and put an arm out, keeping another from sitting next to her.
His senses heightened again. Was she waiting for a man?
He’d kill him.
He’d rip the fucking guy’s head off and shove it up his ass.
The animal side of him rushed forward, wanting to burst free. It nearly made it.
Stumbling backwards, he sucked in a deep breath, his thoughts rushing with memories of the last eight months. Of standing on the sidelines watching as his teammates met their mates one by one, each man turning into a crazed maniac in regards to his woman. Each alpha male seeming to surrender themselves instantly to what the fates had in store for them.
The sound of his blood pumping faster filled his ears and adrenaline spiked through him, heating him, increasing his need to fuck or fight. It was animalistic and basic.
Exactly as he’d seen it happen to his brothers-in-arms.
“Shit,” he said more loudly than he should have as his gaze locked on the woman.
The letter had warned him he’d meet her this month—his mate. His perfect match. The woman he’d quite possibly lose right after finding her.
“No,” he shouted, drawing attention from the gathered crowd. Jon ignored their stares, looking instead at the back of the woman’s head as she seemed to be carrying on a conversation with thin air.
The very idea that something could happen to her nearly brought him to his knees. He’d had every intention of avoiding his fate. Of doing all he could to keep from meeting his mate—for her own safety. He had a sinking feeling that his actions had played right into the hands of the Powers that Be. And if his body was right and the woman was his, he couldn’t walk away now. He couldn’t leave her to fend for herself.
The letter’s words of warning continued to play in his head. They were cryptic yet ominous. Was he who brought her end about?
“William Absion,” said the man at the podium, jerking Jon from the frenzied state of his thoughts.
Chapter Five
“Ooo, he’s still looking at you,” said her grandmother with nothing short of glee in her voice. The woman actually clapped and then giggled as if she were a schoolgirl. There were times when dealing with her grandmother felt a lot like dealing with a child. She suspected being dead was quite liberating in itself.
Tori faced forward, refusing to turn around and look at the tall, blond man. When she’d first spotted him, she thought he was a spirit, but then she quickly realized he didn’t feel like the departed. But he didn’t feel like the living to her, either.
He was something else.
Something she was having a darn hard time avoiding staring at. She was sure she’d been close to making an even bigger fool of herself than she already had when she’d nearly fallen while he was watching her.
Her cheeks flushed and she lowered her shoulders, embarrassed by her lack of social grace. She bent her head and her grandmother continued to nudge her.
“Yes, he is still looking right at you, sweetie,” she said. “He’s a handsome one, isn’t he?”
“Please stop,” Tori said softly, already embarrassed enough by her behavior in regards to the stranger. She didn’t need told he was handsome. She’d figured that much out on her own. Actually, handsome wasn’t the right word for him. Sexy, alluring, dangerous even.
“Who is she talking to?” asked a woman in a yellow sundress, sitting behind Tori.
Tori pretended as if she didn’t hear the woman, but it was hard not to, considering how loudly the lady was talking to her friend. “Is she mental or something?”
“Maybe,” replied her friend. “She saved a seat for her invisible friend.”
No. Tori had saved a seat for her grandmother, but didn’t feel like getting into it with the women. Grandma may be not of the living, but she was getting a seat, didn’t matter what the women behind her thought. Besides, neither woman was familiar to her. She guessed they were out-of-towners there for the memorial only.
Thank the gods.
In the blink of an eye, her grandmother was gone from her spot next to Tori. Sucking in a deep breath, Tori glanced over her shoulder, already knowing where her grandmother would be—right behind the troublemakers.
Tori shook her head slightly. “Don’t. It’s fine.”
The women stared at her like she was a freak. Tori would have normally sunk away from sight and left, but her attention pulled to the sexy man in the suit, standing at the back of the memorial service, still staring right at her as her grandmother had said.
She gulped.
Heavens above, the man was gorgeous and familiar looking to her. He stood around six feet and had a chiseled jaw line that hadn’t seen a razor in the last few days. The rugged appearance only added to his appeal and was a direct contradiction to the expensive, tailored suit he wore. She wasn’t a fashion expert, but she was betting his sunglasses were designer as well. For a man who looked like his net worth was substantial, there was an air about him that said his life was in total chaos and the calm exterior was simply a façade. Something he wore as a mask to shield others from seeing just how much he did not have himself together.
Then there was the air of danger around him. As if he’d set up a perimeter of sorts and no one was welcomed within it. Anyone who tried might not like the outcome.
He wouldn’t hurt you, she thought, but she wasn’t sure why.
The sense of familiarity returned and she couldn’t help but think upon the old photos her grandmother keep stored away back at the house. Ones Tori had looked through often when younger. She watched the man in the sunglasses, unable to shake the feeling that she’d seen him in the photos before. Old photos. Ones taken a long, long time ago.
Her heart rate increased as her mind spun with possibilities. Was he the one her fat
her had told her of? The one he’d said would eventually come? Something was off with the man. Something was different. The more she stared back at him, the more the sense that he wasn’t of the living as she knew them to be, nor of the departed, settled over her. Such a curious man.
Such a deliciously handsome man.
Such a familiar looking man.
“He is just as good looking as I remember him being,” said her grandmother, suddenly back in the seat next to her rather than behind the women.
She squeaked, facing forward quickly and swallowing hard, the heat already feeling oppressive despite the early hour. She pulled at her blouse, sweat beginning to gather between her breasts, more from her hormones going out of whack at the sight of the new guy than the heat, but she wasn’t about to admit that.
The man at the podium continued to read the names of the fallen soldiers and Tori forced herself to pay full attention. She sensed her grandmother’s jovial mood begin to sour and knew why. They were getting to Tori’s surname. They’d be reading her father’s name soon. His was just part of such a long list. Far too many.
Tori hated war.
She hated everything to do with it. Hated what it did to the men who were part of it and how their own government didn’t seem to care. They used up the servicemen and spat them out. Sometimes, they did far worse even than that.
She thought of her father and deep sorrow rushed through her, saturating every fiber of her being.
Her grandmother placed her hand upon Tori’s, clearly sensing her distress. The old woman smiled. “Your father believed in it all when he signed up. He wanted to make a difference.”
Tori said nothing. The entire argument had been played out more times than she could remember, and unless you were on the inside and knew the unbelievable circumstances surrounding her father’s time as a soldier, it wasn’t worth even bothering to debate it.
And no one could ever know the full truth.
It wasn’t safe.
Grandma continued, “He hated what they did to him, but he still loved his country. He understood that a few did not represent the whole. You need to understand that too. That these men fought for our freedoms.”
She nodded and lowered her head, whispering so as to not alarm those around her as she, from their point of view, talked to herself. “I know.”
“And without war, without the military, I wouldn’t have you,” said Grandma. “Your father would have passed long ago when it was his true time to go. You’d never have been born and that would have been a dirty shame, because you are truly a gift, Tori.”
She knew all these things. She’d committed them to memory and to heart. How could she ever forget the sacrifices her father made to the country, the sacrifices he made for her? She was living proof of it all.
Tears wanted to come, but she held tight to them. If she dared to let them loose, she might never get them to stop. She missed her father greatly. He’d done all he could and loved her with all he had despite what had been done to him. Without him, she’d have been lost in the world and probably would have been bounced from foster home to foster home before ending up in a hospital for the insane.
After all, what she could do was hardly normal. Outside of her father, she’d never met another person who could do what she did. Heck, she’d never even met anyone an average person would consider abnormal. Other than herself, of course. She could see and hear the dead, and that was only part of what she could do.
There were times her gifts frightened even her. But mostly, she tried not to think too hard on them. It was how she got through each day. Other women her age were at college, experiencing life to its fullest, probably dating and going out with friends, but not Tori. She remained hidden away from society as much as she could, all so that she could feel somewhat normal.
She snorted.
Like she’d ever be normal.
She focused on the man reading names of fallen soldiers from the area. Two long-stemmed roses lay upon her lap. One for her father and one for her father’s best friend. A man her father had spoken of often when she was little. It pleased her to know her dad managed to have someone close to him that he’d trusted.
“Vincent Manzo,” the man at the podium said, making her grandmother gasp.
Grandma was suddenly gone, appearing next to the memorial, her eyes full of unshed tears. Neither woman was sure what had become of her father. He was out there somewhere, at least, she hoped he was. The last she’d seen of him had been years ago. That was when he’d left, leaving her in the care of a young couple, with nothing more than a small suitcase and a box of letters. Her grandmother had passed when she wasn’t even old enough to walk and talk, and leaving a child with a spirit wouldn’t work at all.
And, Tori’s mother was out of the question. After all, Tori wasn’t even sure who her mother was or if she was alive. All Tori did know was she was created by means that weren’t natural. Scientists played a part in her being here and they’d left her father no choice on the matter. But he used to tell her again and again that they gave him a gift when it came to her. She felt more like a curse.
Tori stood and carried the roses with her to the memorial. She laid one of them before the side that held her father’s name. In many ways, he had died during his time in the war. She knew some of what he’d endured at the hands of his own government, but she would probably never know the full scope of it all.
What he had lived through had left him changed.
Different.
More than human.
Much more than human.
And because of what they’d done to him, she was more than human as well. Something no one could label. The men they were honoring died in wars that happened long before her birth.
As Tori stood, her grandmother choked back a sob. Tori wanted to reach out and hold the woman, but knew better. Since no one in attendance, save the already departed, could see her grandmother, it would look very strange indeed.
Grandmother waved a hand in the air dismissively and then looked past Tori at something or someone in the distance. Her tear-filled gaze changed to one of happiness again. Tori suspected her grandmother was looking in the direction of the well-dressed stranger again. Whoever he was, he brought a smile to Grandma’s face, which was saying something, considering where they were and what they were doing.
Grandmother vanished and Tori headed back to her seat, refusing to glance at where the man had been for fear she’d really fall flat on her face this time if she looked too hard at him again.
She took her seat and ignored the whispers of the women behind her. Instead, she listened to the names the man continued to read off and watched other families taking flowers up.
The man at the podium reached the R’s and spoke, “Jonathon Reynell.”
An odd sensation washed over Tori as she stood again, the second rose in hand as she walked toward the memorial once more. This time she would honor her father’s best friend who had died in the same war they claimed her father died in.
The weight of a heavy stare found her, and she could actually sense the person’s curiosity. It was coated in something else—the same hard-to-place feeling she had when she looked at the well-dressed man.
He was watching her.
He was curious.
Very curious indeed.
Could he really be the man her father had told her stories of? Could he be the very man she was now walking up to pay her respects to?
As she got to the spot with Jonathon Reynell’s name on it, Tori reached out, doing as the other families had done, touching the name engraved there. In an instant, she was hit with a vision. Having been plagued with random ones all her life, she knew better than to fight it. The pain alone could render her useless for days if she tried. She gave in, knowing her eyes were spinning to the back of her head while her body contracted. She tried to hold on to the monument, but the slick marble provided no traction.
The image of a tiger flashed through her mind.
It was so fleeting that at first she assumed she’d been mistaken. When she actually heard the sound of its roar, deep within her mind, she knew it was real to her. As quick as it came, the vision went. Sometimes they lasted only a second or two, others lasted minutes. Thankful it wasn’t a long one, Tori made a choked sound, playing it off that she was emotional to keep from alerting anyone that anything was wrong.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but stay hunched over, the vision nearly taking her to the ground. Another vision struck hard and fast, this one painful. In it, she found herself on the shooting side of a long gun—a sniper rifle. It wasn’t her, but the vision didn’t show her the person, implanting her in his place as her visions often did. Her finger curled around thin air, the same way it would have if she truly had a rifle in her hand.
“Momma, forgive me and may God rest the soul—”
The words filtered through her lips, but they weren’t her words. She whimpered and then warmth spread around her as large arms enveloped her body, an equally as large and powerful frame accompanying them, pressing against her back.
She tensed, expecting what always happened when she touched others to happen again—more visions, more voices. There was nothing but silence and serenity. Closing her eyes, she surrendered against the person’s frame, letting him support her weight for a moment as she basked in the tranquility.
A peace she’d never felt before.
Chapter Six
Jon held the tiny slip of a woman in his arms and lifted her. She weighed nothing and he had half a mind to take her straight to an all-you-can-eat buffet and insist she eat until she pop. He would have said as much had he not sensed something was seriously wrong. She went limp in his arms and fear raced through him.
He ignored the gasps of those in the crowd and hurried her away from their prying eyes, away from the service, and into the parking lot of the park. What struck him as odd was that no one followed him. No one in the tiny town seemed concerned if the woman was okay or not. That wasn’t like the Nape Field he remembered from his youth. Everyone cared about everyone.
Separation Zone Page 4
