Kate Evangelista - Til Death

“I’m on vacation.”

“Illumenari go on vacation?”

“We have dental and medical, too, in case you’re wondering.”

I kicked his boot. “Jerk.”

“Admit it. You like it when I get snarky.”

The name of the second class sunk in. The voice in my head—which didn’t bother me as much as it should—had said I needed to find the guardian. Could it mean the Illumenari? “Tell me about the Guardians.”

Thankfully, he moved on. “They guard. We don’t complicate the naming of things.”

“Guard what exactly?”

A grunt then a pause. The plug seemed to be giving him problems. “Whatever’s assigned to them?”

I thought about it. He said he’d protect me. “You’re an Arbiter, right?”

“Yeah.” He tsked like he’d bitten into something bitter. “Now, shut up and let me finish.”

He waited. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from talking.

Only then did he continue. “There’s the Legacy. Almost like special ops. They get sent on the most difficult cases. And lastly, the Council. They control everything.”

“Everything?”

“They assign the cases. Everyone answers to them. They’re the judge, jury, and executioners.” He slid out from under the car, went to the hood, and removed the oil filler cap.

I shuddered at the last part about the same time our American History teacher came to mind. “Is Mr. Sloan an Arbiter, too?”

“No, he’s Legacy.” He placed the cap beside the wrench and the drain plug.

A newfound awe for our history teacher blossomed in my chest. A special ops Illumenari? Could Mr. Sloan be any cooler? “You told me he’s retired. Why? He’s so young.”

A taut silence followed.

Dillan leaned against the driver’s side door and folded his arms. He focused on a point beyond where I sat. “There are many reasons for someone to retire, Selena. Sometimes people burn out. Others get really injured and they can’t function well anymore. Then there are others who lose everything, even their minds.”

“Where does Mr. Sloan fit into all that?”

“The losing their minds part.”

A pinch of pain stopped me from asking more personal questions. I knew what it meant to lose everything. I spent a whole year of my life not really in the present, so I got the “losing their mind” part, too. I moved on to a different question.

“That time you were poisoned” —I shivered— “how’d you heal yourself?”

He rubbed the charm on his cuff until his sword materialized. Dillan, ribbed shirt, sword. I nearly fainted. Oblivious to my reaction, he clutched the grip with one hand and pointed at the opaque gem.

“This stone connects the natural abilities of an Illumenari to the outside world,” he said. “Call it power, magic, chi, whatever. The point is…Illumenari can use the energy within their body to manifest anything needed by using the stone as a catalyst. That afternoon, I used it to heal.”

“That explains the blue sparks.”

“Correct. That was my energy. But at my current rank, I can only heal small wounds. If the scratch was any deeper than it was…”

Our gazes locked then. The steely blue of his eyes turned stormy. With sure movements of his wrist, his sword returned to its charm state. Then he pushed away from the GT and, in purpose-driven strides, stalked toward where I sat.

Not once did I break eye contact. The tip of my tongue darted across my bottom lip. My skin prickled at the raw strength of him barely tamed by the grace of his stride, the confidence of his stance, the arrogance in his stare. He’d hooked me. I saw it in his eyes. I understood then what made wild animals so beautiful. I never wanted to tame him.

I swallowed. Hard. The temperature in the garage rose. The smell of motor oil and metal and sweat bordered on intoxicating.

No smile. Not this time. He bent down until his hands rested on my legs. His fingers gripped my knees, but not hard enough to bruise. He distributed his weight, so I didn’t bear the brunt of it. Tortuously slow, his face inched its way closer to mine. When I shifted to meet him half way, he pulled back and waited until I moved away again. It almost physically hurt to keep still. Whoever said patience was a virtue didn’t have Dillan’s lips so close. I wanted to scream.

His dark chuckle vibrated into me, gathering just below my navel like golden honey. He let the tip of his tongue travel the edges of my mouth, sending a crash of thrilling awareness to the pads of my feet. I gasped, and he charged in. Yes. Got my Pop Rocks fix. He playfully explored the underside of my tongue, finding ticklish corners that had me giggling then moaning into his mouth.

I threaded my fingers through his hair, delighting in the softness of each strand. No gel today. Maybe because he knew he’d get all yummy, sexy, sweaty this afternoon. I couldn’t get enough of what he gave, needing more and more of the friction until I had to force myself to come up for air.

He had other ideas. Those sinful lips traveled down the column of my neck. He nibbled on my pounding pulse. It made my back arch. Pleasure and pain fused into one smooth sensation. He soothed the place he’d bitten with a small lick then traveled the length of my collarbone to the other side of my neck. I’d lost all coherent thought when he reached the delicate curve of my ear.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” he whispered.

“No.” I tried to twist away to put some space between us, but he grabbed the back of my neck and held me prisoner. He wasn’t done tormenting my ear apparently.

“Come with me tomorrow.”

“Where?” More a gasp than anything else.

“Just say yes.”

With my eyes still closed, I imagined the word YES. A quick nod came out instead.

“Close enough.”

…

I sat alone on the porch, waiting for Dillan to arrive. At breakfast, Grams and Gramps went about their day as if I didn’t wake up shrieking my lungs out again, like the night before the field trip. My throat still hurt from it.

The rumble of the GT’s engine broke through my funk as it drove up the gravel path. I launched off the top step and ran toward the driver’s side even before Dillan could get both legs out of the car. I leapt into his arms and buried my face in the hollow of his neck, breathing him in. I used the contact to keep me in the present, remind me I was still alive.

“Hey, someone seems happy to—” A pause. “Selena? You’re shaking. Fuck. What’s going on?” His hands rubbed up and down my back, pressing me closer to him.

I shook my head.

“Babe, come on,” his voice filled with concern, “you’ve got to talk to me.”

Breathing in and out one more time, I moved back and plastered a smile on my lips. “Don’t call me babe,” I teased even if the endearment was enough to push all my fears away.

He tilted his head to the side. A glimmer of doubt entered those blue eyes. “Get in.”

The sweet scent of leather had a strangely calming effect on me. “So,” I said. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Are you going to tell me why you were scared shitless?”

I flinched. “Bad dream.”

He gripped the steering wheel. “Bullshit.”

“Don’t you have bad dreams?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question.”

My stomach churned. I wanted to take the lie back. The urge to confess, to share, overwhelmed me so much that I had to choke down the truth. My throat ached with every gulp.

As if sensing I had no inclination to elaborate, Dillan exhaled. The tension in his shoulders melted. For the entire drive into town, we didn’t speak. I thought he was mad at me until he reached out and traced a line from my temple to my chin as he pulled on to W. Main Street. I let the touch happen. Something told me he needed the contact more than I did.