So much for obedience training.
The music stopped.
Shit! Cara sprinted after her, gravel crunching under her sandals as she rounded the corner.
In the distance, Chloe stood on the stairs with her tail swinging frantically. A guy wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and boots sat perched on the top step of the porch, petting her vigorously. His tawny blond hair fell down around his face, obscuring it from view. A guitar lay next to him. There was something familiar…
He looked up and tucked his hair behind his ears. A dimple punctuated the wide smile that broke out on his face. “Hey, don’t you ladies owe me breakfast?”
It took only a moment for her to recognize him and for a curl of his energy to reach her. Brett! Cara’s heart quickened. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been wearing a baseball cap with his hair hidden underneath. But there was no mistaking that show-stopping smile.
Reflexively, she smiled back. Several times since their chance encounter back in March, she’d wondered if he would ever take her up on her offer.
Brett stood up from the stairs. With a slow, sexy swagger, he headed in her direction, Chloe leading the way. He was even more attractive than she’d remembered, with high cheekbones and a chiseled jawline in a face that rivaled Michael’s. Even though she was spoken for, there was something about Brett that elevated her heart rate.
He caught her gaze as he came closer. Those eyes. Gah! A sexy, bright blue. Absolutely panty-melting in an unassuming, “I’m not doing this on purpose, I just have nice eyes” sort of way.
The pull of Brett’s energy was even stronger now than when she’d first met him, sucking at her in a way that made her lower half clench and warm. For the second time today, her body betrayed her for a man who wasn’t her fiancé.
Cara wanted to hang her head in shame. Instead, her feet unconsciously carried her toward him. Before she knew what’d happened, he’d swept her into the firm muscles of his chest. Faintly familiar, his touch crackled over her skin, making her momentarily forget the world outside of his arms.
His breath warmed her hair. “It’s so good to see you. I planned to call you and collect on that breakfast.” His words rang true and sweet on her tongue. Had he been lying, she would’ve tasted bitterness. A newly awakened ability, tasting truth and emotions added a new dimension to her everyday communication.
He leaned back, wearing a puzzled look. “Hey, you seem taller for some reason.”
Cara swallowed, thinking fast. It was true. Even though Brett was slightly over six feet tall, they were closer to eye level with Cara’s extra couple of inches. Unable to come up with a plausible explanation, she looked at him innocently and shrugged, still in his arms.
His lips turned back up in a smile. “My imagination, I guess.”
A blush colored her cheeks. The clean, fresh smell of his soap, or maybe it was his shampoo, drifted her way. She resisted sinking her nose into the warm skin of his neck and inhaling.
Oh, please God. Enough. She gently pushed her way out of his embrace. Being that close to him was too intoxicating. If she didn’t create some distance between them, her knees would give out.
As delicious as Brett was, Simon was the only one with the key to her heart, making this even more unnerving.
Yikes! What the heck is wrong with me?
“It’s really good to see you, too,” she said sheepishly and pointed to his guitar lying on the porch. “Are you working on a song? I heard you singing from the road.”
A look of worry momentarily passed over his face. “Yeah, did you like it?”
She nodded vigorously.
He tipped his head, motioning her toward the porch. “Can you stay for a few minutes? I’ll play you the whole song.”
“I’d love to,” she said, having time to spare before the caterer arrived. Brett had told her he was a songwriter when they’d met, but based on the small bits she’d heard from the street, he could really sing.
She glanced around the wooded property as she followed him back to the columned porch. In addition to sharing the private lane leading to individual driveways, all three estates had once shared one huge wooded parcel of land that had been subdivided sometime during the nineteenth century. “Wow, this is gorgeous. Is it your aunt’s place?”
“Yeah. She’s traveling on business in Europe.” He sat on the porch and rested his boots on the steps. Reaching for his acoustic guitar, he maneuvered it into a comfortable position on his lap.
“What about your uncle?” Cara sat down beside him.
“He passed away a while ago. He was a lot older than my aunt.”
“Oh,” she said softly, feeling slightly awkward, and then cleared her throat. “I guess we’re neighbors. My house is on the right as you head back out.”
“So that’s why you’re in the neighborhood,” he said. “I wondered who’d bought the Haskins place.”
She blushed. “I, um, acquired it right before we met.” Before digging herself into a hole, she said, “Anyway, I’d hoped that you’d eventually take me up on my breakfast offer. I just didn’t realize it would be this soon. You seem fond of this place.”
He looked down at his guitar. “You could say that. I’ve been coming here every summer since I was ten years old. My aunt and I are pretty close. She and my uncle couldn’t have kids, so I was like the child she always wanted… at least that’s what she used to tell me.” His cheeks turned pink as he spoke while his fingers found the strings and played a quiet melody.
A smile touched Cara’s lips as she imagined him as a young boy. She sensed an underlying vulnerability that warmed her heart.
Glancing up, he caught her gaze. “Can I play you that song?”
“Absolutely.” She wrapped her skirt around her legs and gave him her full attention. Chloe trotted past and leaped up onto the cushioned wicker sofa at the far end of the porch.
“I just finished writing this one,” he said and played the song she’d heard.
His fingers moved expertly over the guitar strings, delivering a rock ballad accompanied by a flawless tenor voice singing a song of love, loss, and finding a way home. His evocative sound kept Cara enthralled, and the expressive look on his face as he sang had her magnetized. The corded muscles in his arms worked as he played. He had beautiful hands with long, graceful fingers. On his right hand he wore a silver ring, but no other jewelry.
When the song ended, he glanced her way. “What’d you think?” he asked, and then tensed as if bracing for potential criticism.
Cara shook her head, her mouth open, speechless.
“That bad?” he teased.
“Brett, that was amazing! With a capital A. You’re really good. You should be in front of a crowd. Have you ever considered one of those shows like The Voice or American Idol?”
He shrugged, giving her a sheepish look. “Not really.”
“Well, you should,” she said emphatically. “I mean it.”
Shifting next to her, he smiled wryly. “You really think so?”
Far from a musical expert, she could still judge talent when she heard it. “Um… yeah.”
“Thanks,” he said, his cheeks turning pink again.
“So, who do you consider your largest musical influences?” she asked.
His fingers picked away on the guitar, and he gave her a mischievous look. “How about I play some of my influences, and you guess the song and the artist?”
Cara’s face lit up. “I’d like that.”
“They may stretch you a bit. I tend to like the classics,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I grew up on classic rock and grunge thanks to my dad.” It was the newer stuff that presented a problem for her. Bumping his arm with her shoulder, she said, “Play me some songs.” Like an old friend, she was just as comfortable with him now as she was the day they’d met in the café.
His laugh was full and rich. “You got it.” He played a tune, choosing the final chorus to tear into, hitting all the high notes fl
awlessly.
Cara, feeling like she was on a game show, shouted out, “ ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ Led Zeppelin! Impressive. Not many people can give Plant and Page a run for their money.”
He smiled and teased, “Oh, you liked that? I love a girl who can appreciate Led Zeppelin.” Then without missing a note, he moved on to the next tune and peeled out a surprising selection.
Cara stared, incredulous. “ ‘Suspicious Minds,’ Elvis Presley? You weren’t kidding when you said you liked the classics.” She’d only gotten that one because her grandmother was an Elvis fan.
He gave her a thumbs-up and rapidly moved to the next tune. “ ‘Evenflow,’ Pearl Jam!” Cara said.
As Brett moved to the fourth tune, a chill passed over Cara, her senses suddenly on high alert. Gazing in the direction of the woods, she was no longer paying attention to Brett.
Chloe jumped off the sofa and raced past them, her hackles raised. A vicious bark rose from her throat, echoing through the surrounding trees. Her eyes turned to blue lasers as they scanned the property, her bark reaching an ear-piercing crescendo.
Cara froze. The hairs prickled on the back of her neck and her skin turned ice cold. The last time this happened…
Pain slammed into her head with the force of a bulldozer. Brett dropped his guitar next to her. She looked through squinted eyes to see him clutching the sides of his head, too. Fighting it, she grabbed Brett’s hand. “Run!”
A look containing a mixture of confusion, fear, and pain passed through his eyes as she pulled him roughly to his feet, her Nephilim strength taking over. As Chloe guarded the front of the house, Cara’s hand locked onto Brett’s and she hauled him in the opposite direction.
Chloe’s powers as a Sentinel would keep the demon at bay until it transformed from the black, inky haze into the ten-foot, satyr-like monster with red scales—if no one destroyed it first.
Cara sent a silent, telepathic scream to her Guardian team and Simon as she and Brett raced deeper into the woods behind his aunt’s house. She maintained her iron grip on Brett as they ran, not slowing down as tree branches scratched and jabbed at her exposed arms while she protected her face with her free hand. Chloe’s barking grew more distant behind them.
A single thought drove her—keep Brett safe.
She could feel the pounding of his heart in his fingers, his panic coloring his energy as he followed alongside her.
Suddenly, Brett’s hand was ripped from hers and he was gone. Before she had time to react, a second Guardian scooped her up from behind, knocking the wind out of her and lifting her off the ground in one swift movement. Both of the Guardians were cloaked, so neither the Guardians nor their passengers could be seen. Angels flying through suburban Connecticut wasn’t something the Angelorum wanted featured on the evening news.
The pain disappeared and Chloe stopped barking, signaling the demon had been taken care of by one of the Nephilim back at the house.
Her back securely tucked into his chest inside a strong embrace, she recognized Isaac’s energy behind her as they flew above the trees. “What the hell, Isaac?” She asked, winding herself up into a nasty snit while her heart bucked like a bronco. The wind whipped up under her skirt as they flew.
She and Isaac had started out on the wrong foot when they’d met during Kai’s rescue. Since Isaac was Simon’s best man—and now her official Trinity Guardian—she needed to bury the hatchet… eventually. But she was still pissed that he blamed her for Simon’s near fall from grace. Like it was her fault he’d lied to her. But in her heart of hearts, she suspected his iciness had more to do with the fact that Simon’s first love, Calliope, had been his sister.
Isaac’s voice was calm. “If that’s your way of asking about the demon, it wasn’t sent for you. It was hunting Brett.”
She’d been about to rip him for falling down on protecting her, but instantly deflated when she heard his reply, frowning so deeply her eyebrows almost touched. She must have heard him wrong. “Why would a demon…” The answer came to her as she asked the question. “Brett’s Angelorum?”
“Messenger blood, but he hasn’t been Called yet. He doesn’t know. He’s been protected since he was a child. That is, when he’s not sneaking off to hide here in Connecticut.”
“What do you mean, sneaking off to hide?”
Isaac hesitated. “Sorry. I shouldn’t even have told you that much.”
“Shouldn’t have told me that much? Why does everything have to be such a damn secret? A heads-up would’ve been nice,” she snapped.
For a split second, Cara had the urge to bite the arm closest to her mouth. Instead, she released an exasperated sigh, and the memories of the hellish week she’d found out she was a Soul Seeker came crashing down on her. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for Brett.
Isaac circled overhead rather than landing. “Why are you circling?” she asked, still annoyed.
“I figured you might need a moment, and I wanted to give Constantina time to arrive.”
“Constantina’s here? Why?” Cara asked anxiously. Every time Constantina left the Sanctuary, she put herself in danger. Her energy practically threw up red flares for the Dark Ones. Was Brett also one of her charges? Cara’s rapid speculation gave her a brain cramp.
“I’m sure you’ll find out. I’ll take you down now.”
Cara watched as they descended through the treetops, the ground coming up to meet them. Being a Guardian’s passenger was more like being on an amusement park ride than experiencing the sweet sensation of flying people have in their dreams. Lucky for her, she didn’t get nauseated riding roller coasters.
When they landed and uncloaked, Brett looked shaken and green under his tanned skin. He sat on the top stair leading to the porch. Two towering, dark-haired Guardians flanked him, wearing the traditional uniform—black pants, T-shirt, and duster. Chloe sat in Brett’s lap, licking him gently on the arm to soothe him.
Brett’s eyes bulged when he spotted Cara, fear written on his face. “Are you okay?”
Her lips tipped up into a wan smile. “I think I should be asking you that question. This is just another day at the office for me,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too sarcastic.
Cara nodded at the Guardians standing on either side of Brett. “Noah. Zeke.”
Noah gave her a smile and a small salute while Zeke sauntered over to give her a hug. A rakish smile crossed his baby face.
“Good to see you, doll,” he said, picking her up and lifting her feet off the ground. She had gotten to know Zeke during the rescue. Simon and Isaac had practically raised him as a young Nephil. Unlike Isaac, with his ice-blue stare, Zeke didn’t make Cara feel like a villain. A young Guardian by Nephilim standards at sixty-three, he had an irreverence that Cara found refreshing. She was quite fond of him. His warm, brown eyes were always filled with a touch of mischief.
“Put me down, Zeke.” She chuckled.
He squeezed her tighter. “Gotta get my hugs in before Si gets here. Don’t want him to fly into a jealous rage over me touchin’ his girl,” he teased.
“Funny,” she said with a smile as her feet touched the ground. “Is it safe for me to take Brett for a walk?”
Isaac ran his fingers through his blond brush cut and looked up from his phone. “Simon says to behave and yes, you have ten minutes.”
His words made her bristle. Behave? What? Then she remembered. Simon had observed her first meeting with Brett and their “almost kiss,” sparking a little unhealthy jealousy.
She cocked a brow at Isaac and smiled wickedly. “If Simon wants to tell me to behave, he can tell me himself. But if he knows what’s good for him, he won’t.”
He snorted and shook his head, muttering something she couldn’t hear.
Ugh. Nephilim men. For all their modern ways, Simon and Isaac hadn’t completely outgrown their Victorian roots.
She beckoned Brett with her outstretched hand; he nodded and put Chloe down. Walking over to her, he willingly placed his hand
in hers while his haunted stare searched her eyes for answers.
Lacing her fingers through his, she squeezed. “It’ll be okay. Trust me?” she whispered.
Without a word, he licked his dry lips and nodded again.
She pushed soothing energy through her palm and he relaxed under her touch, closing his eyes for a moment. She turned toward the woods and led him along beside her. “We’ll be back,” she yelled over her shoulder.
“Zeke will patrol until Simon arrives. Call him if you need him.” Isaac’s calm response came from behind them.
When they were out of earshot, Brett started to speak. “Cara—”
Cara pulled him to a stop, giving him a look of empathy. “You must have lots of questions.”
His hand was sweaty in hers, the haunted look still in his eyes. For some reason, she felt fiercely protective of him. She wanted to take care of him like Michael had taken care of her. She beat back the odd desire to run her fingertips over his naked skin, chalking them up to the Nephilim hormones running recklessly through her body.
Brett swallowed and dropped her hand. Agitated, he ran his fingers through his tawny-blond hair, and pointed back in the direction they came. “What the hell was that back there?”
She gave him a half-smile. “Which part? The demon we were running from or the Guardians who swept us up and flew off with us?”
He paled at her question. Hmm… maybe she needed some sensitivity training.
Brett stepped back, fear suddenly filling his eyes. “What are you?”
His words stung like a slap in the face. “A woman, last I checked,” she said, hurt. Not a lie, yet not the whole truth.
His shoulders slumped and his face went slack. He looked at the ground. “I’m sorry. What about me then? Why was that thing after us?”
She touched his shoulder. He didn’t back away this time, but rather held her gaze, searching.
She replied with the best answer she could think of. “You’re special. That’s all I know.”
The naked vulnerability in his eyes tugged at her heart. “What does that mean?”
She wished she could tell him but it wasn’t her place. Besides that, all she had right now were her suspicions. Now she knew how Michael must’ve felt the night they met. Having been in Brett’s shoes recently, she knew he’d need someone, and she was determined not to let him go through this alone. Her role suddenly shifted from pupil to teacher.
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