Kairos Page 9

  “Sulwen, I don’t know how to tell you all of this without you freaking out and jumping from the car. So I’m going to pull over, and we’ll sit and discuss it that way.” He looks over at me and I nod.

  I count the mile markers as they pass us by until he finds a travel center and pulls over to park in the shade. He leaves the air conditioner running, but it’s of little consequence as a familiar heat creeps up my neck. Hot flash. Shit.

  He turns in his seat to face me, and I take a deep breath. Here it comes. I’m ready. Green eyes look straight through me, and I shuffle in my seat to find a comfortable position. Once settled, I raise my eyes back to his.

  “I didn’t meet you by chance. It was planned.” He stops and gauges my reaction before continuing. Evidently satisfied I’m not going to bail, he continues. “You know how I told you I was a historical researcher?” I nod. “Well, I research artifacts too.” He pauses. “Among other things. But the point I’m trying to make here is that I research and track down very important artifacts. Specific. Very specific. And during my research, I discovered you.”

  I frown and shake my head in confusion. He reaches over and takes my hand and squeezes to see if I’m still with him. I squeeze back. I focus my gaze on his lips because his eyes are closed off and blank. It’s unsettling, and I’m nervous enough as it is.

  “What do you mean? Why were you studying me?” I have a feeling I’m not going to like what he has to say, but for some reason it’s not coming as much of a surprise. I’ve always known deep down that something was different about me. I can’t explain it…I’ve just always felt it.

  “I wasn’t looking for a who. I was looking for a what.”

  “I don’t understand.” I shake my head and try to put together what he’s telling me. It feels as though I’m standing on a cliff’s edge. I can see water below, and I know it’ll be cold if I fall, but until that crisp, first blast of icy wetness bursts across my skin like a thousand needles…well, that’s what this feels like. It’s the proverbial train heading straight for me and I know the impact is going to kick my ass, but I’m still standing and watching as it draws near.

  He clears his throat and sits quietly for a couple of minutes. He’s thinking of what he should say. Seeming resolved, he continues. “Your bloodline is the oldest in all of Scotland, and within it a particular ability flows. This ability is like no other on this planet. It is unique to the blood and carrier. I know this sounds crazy, but please just hear me out before you pass judgment.”

  “I’m listening. Please go on.” My head is spinning, but I give him the benefit of the doubt and decide to placate him. My heart is sinking with every word that leaves his mouth. It wasn’t a who he was looking for but a what. His words keep repeating in my mind as I simultaneously begin to feel as if the shattered bits of my person are being put together. This is the something ‘more’ that I’ve always felt inside of myself. This finally explains how I knew deep down inside that I was different.

  He leans back into his seat and stares out of the moonroof. It’s getting late in the evening, and the sky is turning beautiful shades of pink and orange. The birds are quieting down for the coming dark, and the noise of traffic in the background has subsided. Everyone is going home to their happy lives, and I’m sitting here feeling like mine is hanging in the balance of a teetering pendulum. Fuck! Please just tell me and end this misery already. I’m dying here. Can’t he see that?

  He sighs and begins again. “This world isn’t what you think it is. Christ! The whole fucking universe isn’t what you think it is.” He runs his fingers roughly through his hair. It’s the first time I’ve seen him do this…I don’t know what to call it. He’s just not acting like the Logan Thatcher I’ve spent the last two days with.

  This is not the man I shared a funnel cake with. Or the man who held my hand up when the roller coaster flew down the hill. This is not the man who licked beer foam from my nose while we visited Oktoberfest at Busch Gardens. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  He turns to face me, and his expression is sobering. “Okay. I’m going to tell you everything. No half-truths, just the raw truth.” I look into his eyes and nod. I’m ready. I can handle this. “We live in a parallel dimension. All the myths about vampires and fairies are true. They exist, but not on this plane.” He raises his hands and uses them to show me what he means. “You see, we are this lower plane.” He moves his right hand. “And a dimension parallel sits adjacent to us right here.” He moves his left hand parallel to his right with an inch or so between them. “Between these parallel dimensions is what we call The Great Barrier. It’s a protective shield between the world of magic and ours. In this other dimension, the creatures you were afraid of as a child do indeed exist and thrive within.” He pauses and looks up from his hands to see if I’m still following. I nod, and he continues.

  “Everything as we know it would change if the protection between our worlds were to fail. Evil, such as you could never imagine, would rain terror and war upon humankind. Have you ever heard the old adage ‘history repeats itself’?”

  “Yes. My father used to say it all the time.” I smile fondly at the memory and look back at Logan. His face is deadly serious, and I feel my face fall as the memory fades and I’m forced back to the here and now. I’m beginning to the think the man I have developed feelings for is seriously unbalanced. Just my luck, I knew this was too good to be true.

  “It was told as a reminder to the mortals who survived The Eternal War so that they could pass it on to their children and so forth. They wanted us to remember that all is not what it once was. These parallel dimensions are unique because thousands of years ago they used to be one and the same.” He takes a deep breath and a quick swig of water. “There are greater beings out there, Sulwen. More powerful than you or I could even fathom. Their power is so great and their magic so strong that they began to create other life forms. As real as you and I, but stronger, more powerful, and most importantly, enmortal. They can live for thousands of years and never age, grow sick, or die. But they can be killed.”

  He looks at me, and I nod for him to keep going.” The important thing you need to know is that The Great Barrier is upheld through magic. This magic runs a cycle and then has to be…recharged, for lack of a better word. Only a druid from a particular lineage is powerful enough to perform the ritual.” He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair. “You see, the barrier blocks the crossing from their plane to ours, and it requires a great deal of magic infused at certain intervals to do so. This is where you come in.”

  I recount everything he’s told me and contemplate what it is he’s not telling me, or has, but I haven’t figured out yet.

  “So what you’re saying is that I’m this druid you need to perform the ritual. You want me to do this to save our world from impending doom? What was this weekend, Logan? Did I mean anything to you other than your precious mission? You lied! How can I trust you?” By the last word I’m yelling, and I can’t control the rising tide of anger inside of me.

  His eyes darken and narrow as his face takes on a rigid expression. “I’ve never used you Sulwen. How can you say that?” He slams his fist down into the dash, causing me to flinch and pull back from him.

  “Fuck, Sulwen. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I would never hurt you. I swear!” He looks at me pleadingly. “It’s just that…this is all so deadly serious. Do you want proof? Is that what you need? I can understand that; hell, I would ask the same. I’ve been raised to do what I do, so this is all encoded into my DNA. I understand that you need time to process. But don’t look at me as if everything we’ve shared is a lie. Don’t look at me like you don’t know me because no one has ever known me like you do.” We both sit there for a minute in the silence. Neither one of us brave enough to look at the other. Then he reaches over and gently takes my hand in his. Our eyes lock and a sense of connection charges the air between us.

  Logan gives a defeated sigh and says, “I used to t
hink my life had a purpose—until I met you. Now I realize that what I believed was my “purpose” was really just an excuse to make me feel like I was alive—when all I really felt was dead inside.” A tear slides down my cheek, and I move quickly to brush it away. No one has ever touched a part of me the way Logan has.

  “Please, Sulwen. You have to trust me. Our lives depend on it.” His voice dips, and the hard lines around his mouth fade. He pleads to me from the sizzling depths of his sea-green eyes, and I can’t refuse him. This is Logan.

  Oh God, I want to cry. Please be strong. Please be strong. Please be strong, I repeat over and over in my head.

  “Sorry.” The word passes as a whisper over my lips. He releases my hand, and I begin wringing the seat belt in my grip as if it’s a wet rag. His hand gently covers mine, and I release a deep breath. His touch completely disarms me.

  “Don’t be.” His tone is soft and reassuring. He squeezes my hands and then releases them. “Just promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said.”

  I nod. This seems to placate him because he puts the truck in gear, and we pull back onto the interstate.

  An hour later we pull into my complex, and my safe haven is now within sight. He parks the SUV alongside my Camry and hops out to get my things. I slide my book into my purse and walk to the trunk to meet him. He has my suitcase in hand and is swinging the trunk shut when I approach him. He looks over at me and sets it down and opens his arms. I walk into them and wrap my arms around him and squeeze as tight as I can. His embrace is warm and comforting. I don’t want to leave the confines of his strong arms, but I hear the front door open and know Tonya is coming out to greet us. I feel his lips on my forehead and the brush of his warm breath as he sighs when he lets me go. This is horrible. I feel like I’m losing him when I’ve only just found him.

  No. No. No. This cannot be happening. I want my chance, damn it. My one chance. It’s not too much to ask for. Even if we have to face all of this other shit at least we can do it together…right?

  “You have my number from the text I sent you. I’ll give you time to work this out. I know it’s a lot, Sulwen, but please think it through.” He kisses me quickly on the lips and steps back. As he turns to carry my luggage, he speaks over his shoulder, “But don’t take too long, Miss Macgregor. After this weekend I’m feeling none too eager to leave you.” He greets Tonya at the sidewalk and proceeds to the front door.

  Tonya gives me a big bear hug and a naughty wink. Then she takes my hand and leads me back into the house, peppering me with questions the whole way.

  Chapter

  Five

  The first couple of days away from Logan were a nightmare. I pined for him like a lost puppy. I missed him being in bed with me. I missed curling up in his arms at night. I missed everything about him. But I was also confused and angry and…confused.

  I started work at Becker Pharmaceuticals and for the most part was pretty satisfied with how things were going. Tonya and I quickly fell into a routine, and now the mornings passed with practiced ease. We arrived ten minutes early every day, which gave me time to make some coffee and collect myself.

  But now the days are blending together. I find myself daydreaming of brilliant green eyes staring down while making tender love to me. It’s been twelve days since I saw Logan. I haven’t called or texted him because until today I was so uncertain of what I needed to do.

  There isn’t a mythical being that hasn’t crossed the search engine on my laptop. I’ve read multiple books on druids and witchcraft. I even watched a couple of magic shows on TV, but I quickly realized that it was all smoke and mirrors.

  I have honestly tried to figure this all out on my own. I’ve tried to make sense of what Logan told me, but not having someone to discuss this with is killing me. I’m a naturally open-minded person, but this is a bit much for anyone to rationalize. I have so many questions that need answering, and there is only one person who can give me what I want. I think the thing that bothers me the most is my lack of anger toward him in keeping this from me. I’ve never once been mad or pissed that he withheld the truth. I almost feel sorry for him…how sad is that?

  Today I had an epiphany. Why should I stay away from him? He’s everything I want in a man. He’s everything I need. And, yes, he comes with some rather dramatic baggage, but I’m beginning to think it all makes sense.

  I’ve tried to rationalize it as much as I can, but eventually I just accepted what he said as if it had always been, and it seemed easier to decipher that way. History is only what we’ve been told it is. What if this epic battle he spoke of truly happened? It’s certainly not out of the realm of possibilities. I’ve always believed that in every myth there is some truth, and this just further proves my theory. Yes, there are definite possibilities, but I want proof before I climb onboard the crazy train. So it’s with that thought in mind that I send Logan a text.

  All right. Let’s talk.

  P.S. I miss you.

  I press send and stare at my phone until it vibrates and lights up. I quickly press open and read his reply.

  It’s about time…missed u too! How does 7 sound?

  I read it a second time and smile to myself. He missed me. That’s good, right? Well, it’s not like he’s going to say something rude. Maybe he was just being polite. But then I think about Logan and his direct, no-nonsense mannerism, and I know he wouldn’t have sent it if he didn’t mean it. It’s one of the things I really admire about him. I send him a quick confirmation and close my phone.

  The rest of the day flies by, and before I know it Tonya and I are chatting in the elevator on our way to the parking garage. We reach home without incident and settle into our evening routine.

  I come downstairs after freshening up and start to cook spaghetti. It’s my turn to cook, and Tonya loves spaghetti. She comes down the stairs grinning and taking dramatic breaths of air as she pulls the smell up to her face with her hands. She claims she’s sucking the goodness into her lungs.

  “Don’t want to deprive them of good pasta now, do we?”

  My noodles are almost done when I hear the doorbell ring. I look up at the digital clock on the stove and note that he is thirty minutes early. Hmmm. Maybe he did miss me. That’s a good sign. I bite my lip to keep from smiling.

  He steps out of the foyer and into view. My heart flutters when our eyes meet. My neck gets warm, and red heat floods my face. Breathe, Sully. Breathe. Deep breaths. I channel my inner diva to give me strength as he walks toward me.

  He’s wearing distressed denim jeans with a pale blue t-shirt. He slides his shoes off at the door when he sees mine and Tonya’s there. We’re kind of picky like that, and it’s really nice of him to notice.

  When he raises his eyes again, they burn into mine. They’re a dark midnight green by the time he gets to me. As desire pumps through my blood, I see it mirrored in his eyes. They leave no room for misinterpretation. They’re hungry and searching. He wants some kind of gesture. He’s a little reluctant to take the next step, but he wants to. I can see it in the way his body is tense with anticipation. In the way his hands are opening and closing as if they seek something to hold. Yes…he has missed me.

  I set the stirring spoon down and walk over to meet him. He’s still afraid to make the first move. I take a minute to drink him in. He has shadows under his eyes, and he looks tired. I trace my index finger under his eye and down to his lips. He kisses my finger. I smile up at him. I have missed this beautiful man so much. So very much.

  His arms close around me, and he pulls me tight against his warm chest. I can hear his heart pounding rapidly beneath my ear. But it’s his kisses raining down on my head that flip my heart upside down. He leans down and nuzzles my neck.

  “Mmm. You smell so good.” He places two kisses there and then pulls back but keeps his arms wrapped tight around me. I smile up at him, and he gifts me with his megawatt commercial grin. “I told you I missed you.” He chuckles softly. He finally releases me, and I ste
p back to the pot to check my noodles. He follows and wraps his arms up under mine and clasps his hands together over my belly, my back to his chest, and his chin on my right shoulder.

  “That smells delicious. What’s for dinner?”

  I laugh softly at his childlike curiosity.

  “You are so cute when you laugh.” He kisses my cheek and then rests his chin back on my shoulder.

  “It’s spaghetti. Tonya loves my sauce. It was my great-grandmother’s recipe.” I grab the spoon and scoop some out of the pot. “Here, try it.” I raise the spoon to his lips, and he blows on it and then takes a bite. His eyes close, and he makes a deep, satisfied sound as he swallows.

  “Delicious!”

  “Why thank you, Mr. Thatcher. You are most kind, sir.” I wink at him, and he laughs. He kisses my forehead and pulls away as Tonya comes into the kitchen. I’m surprised she waited this long. She’s generally much more forward when I have a guy over.

  I shoo her and Logan away from the stove. “You guys go and have a seat. I’ll finish up in here and bring it over to the bar.”

  They walk over to the island and sit down on the barstools. I stir the noodles and then fish one out to test it. I blow on it first and then take a bite. It’s good and soft, so I pull them off the burner.

  Using what I call the claw spoon, I scoop the noodles out and place them down in the sauce. I like to mix my noodles with the sauce even though most chefs preach against it. I finish mixing in the noodles, turn off the remaining burner, and carry the pot to the island table.

  Tonya has already laid out a potholder, so I set the pot down there. She hops up and fetches silverware and plates while I pull the garlic bread from the oven. As we sit down, I look up to find Logan staring at me. His thumbs are clutched under his chin, and his index fingers rub back and forth across his bottom lip. My tongue slides out to lick mine, and he stills. His eyes darken.