Destiny United (13 page)

She nodded.

He flashed a savage smile then stepped even closer, his
scent washing over her like a wave. His gaze locked with hers, pinning her with
an intensity that burned her very essence. Sparks shot down her spine. Her
thighs clenched when heat surged to her core. How could a man affect her so
strongly with just one look?

“Are you sure about that kiss?” he asked in a buttery
voice. The tension was so thick she could scarcely breathe.

Though it took a lot of effort, she managed a small nod.
When he turned away, she inhaled a deep breath, unpeeled her limp body from the
wall, and muttered, “You could have just
asked
me to stay in the room.”

“Somehow I don’t think it would have had the same
effect,” he answered over his shoulder as he opened the door. He paused in the
doorway, his smoldering gaze still turning her insides to mush.

She wanted either to push him out the door and slam it
shut, or yank him back in and tackle him on the bed. She settled on staring
dumbly instead.
That’s me,
she sighed to
herself,
always the go-getter.

 “Lock the door behind me,” he said. “And don’t open it
for anyone, understand?”

“Why do you always ask me if I understand after you give
me orders? You do realize I’m not five years old, don’t you?”

“Since you don’t follow my orders anyway, does it
matter?”

“No. So maybe you should stop barking them.”

“Barking? Is that what I’m doing?” A smile played at the
edge of his lips.

Not able to withstand his presence any longer she tried
to shove him out the door. It was like trying to move a brick wall. “Yes.
Barking. Just like a little poodle. Now go!”

His chuckles lingered as his body glided down the hallway
like a jungle cat on a leisurely stroll. Pushing the hair from her face she
exhaled a deep breath then shut and locked the door. She picked up the bag to
start packing when a firm knock made her jump. Without thinking, she opened the
door.

Marcelo stood in the hallway, his brows raised in disapproval.
“I told you not to open the door.”

“I knew it was you, moron.” Not exactly true but he
didn’t need to know that.

“Liar.”

“Suck it!” She tried to slam the door but he caught it
with his hand.

In less than a second he had her back to the wall, his
hands up against it on either side of her head. “Is that an invitation?” he
purred.

Yes. No! Maybe?
Having a
hard time finding her voice, she cleared her throat. “No,” she answered softly.

He stared down at her for too long. Lightening danced in
his eyes. Her gaze dropped to his lips. At the memory of his spicy richness her
tongue darted out wetting her own lips. She stopped when he leaned in so close
his nose brushed a piece of her hair. Her eyes fluttered closed, her knees
wobbled. He inhaled deeply and moaned.

Next to her ear his breath whispered against her. “Lock
the door.”

 Her eyes flew open and he was gone. Finally she
collapsed onto the floor. What the hell was that? And even more important, why
the hell did she like it?

“You are doing wonderfully,
Aila,” Marcelo whispered in her ear as they waited in line at the car rental
office.

Xanax and several cocktails had made the plane ride to
Denver bearable for Aila. Arriving with a slight buzz had been enough to get
her through the airport, but when they’d reached the office, the effects had
started to waver.

But Marcelo had dragged her in anyway. His arm wrapped
around her waist held her up when her knees would have buckled beneath her. She
had started to hyperventilate outside the office door, but he had coaxed her
down with an almost hypnotic voice. When that hadn’t worked, he made awful
jokes that either had her erupting in giggles or rolling her eyes.

“We’re nearly done.” His sweet breath against her ear
almost had her melting into a puddle on the floor.

Even when he wasn’t actively flirting, Marcelo oozed
sexuality. He probably couldn’t help it even if he wanted to. That was going to
be a problem. Aila may have changed names – and species – but she wasn’t ready
to give up on her relationship with Jimmy. A strange thought clouded her mind.
Was it really Jimmy she was attached to? Or just routine? Normalcy.

As she pondered the words, she caught her own lie. There
hadn’t been anything normal about her life before this. There definitely wasn’t
anything normal about it now. She went from hiding from the world with alcohol
and pills to hiding from the world with alcohol, pills,
and
pointy ears and fangs. She never expected to be
living the American Dream, but now she could officially kiss it goodbye.

After settling into their rented Mustang, Marcelo drove
them far above the speed limit through the Colorado roads. Aila had never been
this far west. The mountains loomed ahead as the scenery changed from city to
desolate winding roads amidst deep forests. To her surprise, the farther they
got from civilization, the more relaxed she felt. Strange, she’d always been a
city girl. But when she stared into the overgrown trees surrounding them, she
couldn’t stop a sweet sort of warmth growing in her chest. She felt…at peace.

“Tell me about yourself,” Marcelo said, interrupting her
thoughts of the forest.

She smiled shyly. “Umm…what do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “Anything you want to tell me.” When she
furrowed her brow and bit down on her bottom lip, he prompted her. “Didn’t you
say you liked movies?”

She nodded.

“What are your favorites?”

She arched a brow. “Truly? You want to hear me talk about
movies?”

When he shrugged again, she eagerly launched into a list
of her ultimate favorites in each genre. Most of them he’d never heard of, none
of them he’d seen. So when he suggested she recount one of her favorites, she
was in heaven.

An hour later, when she’d summarized the entire plot of
P.S. I Love You
, misting up at several parts, he had
used his fingertip to wipe under her eye where one tear began to fall. Maybe
she was extra emotional due to her own dynamite storytelling, but it was the
sweetest gesture she could remember in a long time.

“Aila,” he said, after she’d laughed at her stupid
femininity. “Will you tell me about your childhood? About foster care?”

She wasn’t a reluctant storyteller in that regard.
Growing up in foster care was cut and dry. Repeating the facts as she’d done so
many times to countless boyfriends and counselors was easy. So that was exactly
how she started. She told him about the eight foster homes she’d lived in. What
her life was like moving from one home to the next, no permanency, no
consistency, no one really committed to her. But soon she strayed from her
usual dry tale. For reasons she didn’t understand, she spoke to him from the
heart, revealing things she never had to anyone else.

The last foster home she’d lived in eased her through the
teenage years. She’d wanted them to adopt her. She had put all her faith in
them. How could they not, after having taken care of her for four years? She
had craved their affection, their devotion, their love. But they hadn’t wanted
the lifelong responsibility of another child – they had four grown children
already. The rejection stung terribly.

“I can still remember the day the social worker sat me
down just before my eighteenth birthday,” she said to Marcelo. “She read me
some options for leaving the foster care system then expected me to decide
right then and there what my future would be. Like I was picking out a new
hairstyle. Ultimately, I decided to take the help the state offered. They’re
paying for me to get my business degree. But I learned a bitter lesson about
life that day. People never stay.” She shrugged though her hands shook. “And
I’ll never have a family.”

After the meeting with the social worker, Aila had cried
herself to sleep in the bedroom next to the very people who had hurt her. A few
months later she’d packed her things and said goodbye. They had been sweet to
her and promised to call frequently but it hadn’t dulled the ache in her heart.
And in the three years since she’d been on her own, they’d never called.

 “I don’t know why,” she said. “I would have made an okay
daughter. I didn’t disobey them, I followed all the rules, I was respectful. I
used to wish someone wanted me. Prayed for it every night.” She stared down at
her hands, absorbing his patient silence. “Then I grew up.”

She was so embarrassed about her pitiful confession she
couldn’t manage to look at him. He had been so quiet through it all, she’d
probably bored him.
Stupid! When are you going to learn
to guard yourself better?
She sighed. Maybe Sage had it right. Maybe it
was safer to shut off her emotions – build a wall around her heart.

Then a warm hand rested gently on her knee. “Aila,”
Marcelo said. “You would have made a wonderful daughter. Anyone would be lucky
to have you.”

Damn, he sounded so sincere she almost believed him. It
brought a small smile to her lips even as she was shaking her head in denial.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She refused at first, not sure if she could keep her
emotions in check.

He gave her knee a slight squeeze. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, she did. His eyes were warmth – cinnamon and
smoke – they penetrated straight to her soul.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you, Aila. I mean it.”

Her face felt flush and she turned quickly to stare out
the window. The gray sky darkened as they headed into dusk. Her eyelids grew
heavy with the lull of the engine and the fading light. Just when she
contemplated another nap, the sound of screeching tires erupted around them.
She turned to look out the back window and saw two sleek black cars following
them. Not just following them, trying to run them off the road! The adrenaline
burst had her heart pumping in less than a second.

Marcelo cursed as he watched through the rearview mirror.
“You buckled?”

She nodded, too stunned to speak.

He ran his gaze quickly across her body. “You might want
to hold on.”

Without giving her time to question him, he pressed on
the gas and they flew down the windy forested highway.

“Marcelo, what are we – Ahh!” she squeaked when a thud
hit the back of the car and propelled them forward. Marcelo got control of the
car but seconds later it was thrust forward again, a slicing metal sound
indicating the bumper was dragging.

“What are we going to do?” she yelled over the raucous of
engines and Marcelo’s cursing.

Before he could answer, a definitive bang indicated
someone had fired a gun. The back window shattered as the bullet whizzed
through the car. The only reason Aila knew it hit Marcelo’s seat was because
she could smell it. Metal and gunpowder.

Marcelo grabbed the back of her head and pushed her down
in the seat. “Get down!”

Everything happened so quickly she could barely keep up.
The car was rammed from both sides and swerved, screeching and skidding but
stayed on the road. Glass shattered all around them while she covered her head.

“Take the wheel,” Marcelo demanded.

What? Oh, hell no! “I- I can’t!”

Not wasting a minute arguing, he scooped her out of her
seat and switched places before she could refuse. When she took her foot off
the accelerator, he barked, “Don’t you dare! You keep that pedal to the ground,
do you understand me?”

He’d clearly gone mad. Before she could question his
obviously dwindling judgment, he said, “I’ll be right back.” Then he
disappeared.

Her jaw dropped and a sort of strangled squeak left her
mouth as she now found herself driving alone down a deserted highway at 100mph
with two cars trying to run her off the road.
Great, I
just fucking entered a real life version of
Need for Speed
.

***

Marcelo
traversed
to the
back seat of the closest car. He slammed his elbow into the passenger knocking
him out cold. The driver was trickier. The sorcerer pulled power into one hand
and a red ball of light flickered with lethal energy. He held his arm up and
steady, his eyes narrowed at Marcelo. Just as he released it, Marcelo forced the
man’s hands forward at the last second. The Bolt flew from his palm and
shattered the windshield. Marcelo covered his eyes with an arm. The driver
screamed as shards of glass cut his flesh. The Bolt rammed into the Mustang,
catapulting it several car lengths ahead. Aila screeched but kept her foot on
the gas and stayed on the road. He smiled with pride as he snapped the
sorcerer’s neck then
traversed
back to the car.

“You’re doing great,” he said from the back seat.

She gave a startled yelp.

“Have you done this before?” He tried to keep her talking
while he ripped through the back seat until the fuel tank was exposed.

“Oh, yes. Every Tuesday and twice on Fridays.” She may
have been joking but she sounded like a ball of nerves.

Marcelo dug a cotton shirt and a lighter out of one of
the backpacks. He shoved the cloth into the fuel tank.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Aila asked in a hysterical
tone, watching him in the rear view mirror.

“Getting us out of here. When I say go, I want you to
take your foot off the gas, move to the passenger seat, then cover your head
with your arms. Understand?”

A look of sheer panic crossed her face. “I…uh…but –”

“No time for questions.” He peered out the back window as
the last car raced to catch up. “Just follow my instructions and we might make
it out of this alive.”

She nodded her head stiffly and her hands gripped the
steering wheel tighter. In no more than three seconds he’d lit the rag, dove
for Aila, then rolled out the car door keeping her tucked into his body. After
several rolls, he yanked her to her feet then pulled her into the shelter of
the trees. Two seconds later, the car slid off the road, slammed into a tree
and exploded. Aila grinded to a halt, stopping him with her, and spun around to
watch the damage. The last sorcerer’s car screeched and swerved trying to avoid
the ball of inferno, but it failed. Aila stared at the effects of the
collision, her eyes wide and her body stiff.