Duality (Cordelia Kelly #1): Empath Urban Fantasy

A Cordelia Kelly Novel

Ryanne Hawk

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author, Ryanne Hawk.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

“For the Sun that warms my heart, lights my path, and burns in my soul.” ~ Author Unknown

This book is dedicated to you—My readers and friends.  For my husband, children, and my family by blood and by choice—always follow your light.

"What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined for life? They are there to strengthen each other and to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories."
~George Eliot

Step into my world, where emotion reigns and blood spills...

My name is Cordelia Kelly and I'm an empath. I know what you're thinking. In fact, I know what you're feeling, too. I could use your emotions against you or free you from their constraints. My choice, really, and depends on my mood. You see, I filter both light and dark emotions from humans, but which I chose depends on which side of me is in charge.

I'm an aberration and unique. Not fully light, nor fully dark. Not accepted by anyone, but wanted by everyone. Mostly for their own amusements or nefarious purposes.

Except for Sol Winterborn. He sees the real me.  Fate throws us together to unravel the mystery of my grandmothers death, but we have to choose our destinies. The problem is I've been found by those who want me dead, and Sol has deep rooted secrets of his own.

My only choice now is to fight... or die.
 The road is dark, yet I follow the light.

For now.

Reading Order:

•
    
Duality

•
    
Torn in Two  (Novella)

•
    
Night of the Wolf (featuring Zach from Duality)

•
    
Righteous

Duality

DEDICATIO
N
:

Blurb             

Table of Contents             

Prologue             

Chapter One             

Chapter Two             

Chapter Three             

Chapter Four             

Chapter Five             

Chapter Six             

Chapter Seven             

Chapter Eight             

Chapter Nine             

Chapter Ten             

Chapter Eleven             

Chapter Twelve             

Chapter Thirteen             

Chapter Fourteen             

About Ryanne Hawk             

“We can be redeemed only to the extent to which we see ourselves.” ~ Martin Buber

Sol Winterborn turned and watched the cold rain slide down the window, casting the world into tiny prisms. The last few days a deep melancholy stole his breath and had him glued to the frigid glass, watching the droplets slide down. Each of those droplets a vivid reminder of how his life had gone by without purpose or meaning. Now he found himself searching the night sky for answers to questions he didn’t know.

Darkness surrounded their dingy motel room suite, and Sol’s skin itched, a sense of foreboding digging into his pores. He paced the floor, listening to the moans and cries of pleasure or pain wafting from the bedroom as Pandora ravaged her latest flavors. Her skilled seductions would make even a loyal married man unzip his pants and plunge his cock into her wet and warm channel, much to his own demise, but still.

She oozed sex and charm; her pheromones called to every male species within miles of wherever she was. Men were Pandora’s meal of choice, especially human males, but she also liked to suckle on the life force of unsuspecting females, whether they were willing or not. Resisting the call of her pheromones was a herculean task. No matter your orientation or relationship status.

Pandora was a powerful creature, but he’d grown weary of her antics and remorseless energy. Her demons haunted him, even as he slept. He dreamed of blood, death, destruction, and mayhem. He’d lost the glimmer of light he’d captured long ago, and now he feared he’d be swallowed by the pitch-black vileness of her aura.

Despite his own gifts and manifested powers, Sol was not immune to the seduction of gluttonous carnal desires. In fact, his gifts and his own innate cravings made him even more susceptible than mortal men to the enticement of the flesh. Sadly, he had finally come to realize he couldn’t continue to ally himself with only the blackest of souls. The path he traveled with Pandora at his side was a road leading him directly to eternal damnation. The temptations around him had become too much to ignore, and he’d found himself doing things he’d swore he’d never do again.

Like partake in life draining orgies.

The cleansing rain called to him stronger and deeper than he’d ever thought possible. The droplets sang a song to his heart, of light, of truth, and of peace. There had been so much darkness in his life, and in the dark he’d seen unspeakable horrors. After what seemed like a decades long slumber, maybe it was his soul crying out for light that caused the rain.

The sweet song called to his essence, his core foundation, and he found he couldn’t deny it any longer. The low vibrations calmed his heart, settled his rolling stomach, and urged him to leave. Run away and find the source of the beautiful clean music. In his mind he pictured a lighthouse amidst the jagged rocks dotting the shore, pointing the way for ships lost at sea. He’d been lost for a long, long time, and he wanted to go home.

Sol opened the door and walked outside onto the balcony. The water soaked through his clothes and plastered his hair to his face as wind whipped in all directions, swirling with chaos. The temperature plummeted from a balmy 90 to low in the 70’s with the freak downpour. However, standing in the storm felt like someone out there hugged his soul and wrapped his emotional aura in a warm, safe cocoon. The veil of darkness clouding his mind and his sense of right or wrong was momentarily washed away by the ethereal glow of the light in the rain.

The flash floods had been occurring more and more frequently, following him wherever he was. Days of torrential rain with pounding force. The monsoons were curious.

After a few stolen moments of peace, Sol turned and walked back into the dank room and made his decision. He grabbed his suitcase, hurling all his belongings inside, including his clothes, special toys, private possessions, and his toiletries. He glanced around the space one more time then turned the handle of the door to the bedroom, preparing himself for the carnage waiting inside.

“Mmm, Sol, you’ve finally come to play.” Pandora’s melodious voice, with all the warmth of a venomous viper, snaked around him, and he nearly walked out without telling her goodbye.

Sol avoided her question and her eyes as he checked for anything he might need or want.

“What are you doing?”

“Gathering my possessions.”

He heard her jaw snap shut, and he looked over at her spread on the bed surrounded by three men and two women. Most of the bodies barely breathed, her having drained them of their energy, and the ones not dead had nothing left to struggle or fight with. They lay like cattle for slaughter or batteries for the damned. The cloying sweet stench of sex and despair hung in the air the way vultures hover over a rotting corpse. In the past, he’d been in the middle of that bed with his mouth clamped on the quivering flesh of a woman as her body writhed through multiple orgasms. Often Pandora would share the men with him, and she’d cackle with glee while he consumed all the nectar from a spouting shaft. Now the whole scene just filled him with disgust.

She burped. “Excellent. I’m almost done here. Help me clean up, and I’ll be ready in a flash.” Her high-pitched excited tone railed his mind, sounding as though steel claws scratched metal.

“No, Pandora. I’ve had enough.”

“Enough of what, you twit?”

He squared his shoulders and turned to confront her. Eddies of raw magic rolled from him “This. Everything,” Sol said as he waived his hands around in frustrated disgust.

“Me? You’ve had enough of
me
?” Pandora screeched and bounded from the bed, hell on preternaturally fast feet.

“Yes.”

She punched at him, but he dodged and grabbed her wrist as her clawed hand flew inches from his face. Angrily, he bent her arm back as he shifted positions and wrapped his arm around her neck. She stumbled against him and gasped in pain. In a blink he’d poised himself behind her, effectively pinning her movements with his sheer size and strength.

He whispered into her ear, “Clean up after yourself, Pandora. From now on you’re on your own.” She struggled in his grasp, and gasped at the amount of anger pulsing through him as he sent wave after wave of stinging bees at her skin. Ugly blisters oozing a vicious black bile erupted all over her naked body. He cut off her shrieks of pain and her air by tightening his grip around her neck. Sol held her tight and let her whimper in silent agony for a long minute before he mercifully ceased his mystic assault on her flesh. Just as quick as they burst, the blisters disappeared.

He turned her to face him then, letting her see in his eyes he seriously was done with her. He searched her face for a hint of love, of light, of anything remotely kind. Her lips snared his eyes. Lips forever stained the color of blood from all the lives she had consumed over her hundreds of years. She opened her mouth to speak, but something in his face must have stopped her because she shut her mouth without saying another word.

He closed his eyes and turned his face away from her hauntingly beautiful, yet deceitful face.

Sol abruptly pushed her away from him, turned, and left the bedroom, shutting the door with a quiet, final snick. A banshee wail met his ears as he picked up his bag, opened the door, and went to find the source of his soulful music. His lighthouse.

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects It. “ ~ Edith Wharton

The dim bar on the corner beckoned me with outstretched arms.

Come to me. You need me. I will fill your every desire.

My feet moved and the sound of heels clicking on pavement pierced my skull as I walked in a dreamy fog to the rusted metal door boasting a small, grimy window.

I inhaled the potent scent of despair, the intoxicating mix of defeat and hatred. A pounding reverberated in my head, and I realized my heart thundered for the first time in months, maybe even years.
How long had I lay dormant?

Not anymore. No more chains, no more leash, no more locks. The time had come for
me
to shine.
She
could be the one bound and gagged from now on.

I opened the door and embraced the darkness.

As I stepped through the entry to hell, all eyes focused on me. I’d dressed for this excursion wearing dark jeans tucked inside knee high black leather boots. A blood red shirt and black leather coat shored up the “don’t fuck with me”, or rather, “fuck with me if you dare” attitude.

My ears rang and a small, weak voice cried out for help inside my mind, and I shook my head trying to dislodge the pathetic sound.

Fuck you, Cordy. I’m in charge now.

A low sound raked its claws down my brain and whispered in a furious tone,
“I’d closed off this part of us. I locked you up tight and leashed you for a reason! You’re a killer, and you can’t be trusted.”

I just laughed and shut her out. Two can play at this game. For years she thought she’d tuned me out and forced me gone. I’d just been bidding my time, waiting for her to become complacent and weak, and now? Here I am. Ready to react and devour.

I’m so hungry. Let’s get this show on the road.

I kept my eyes downcast so I seemed lost and confused as I made my way to the bar, drinking down the delicious decadence wafting around the room. I don’t remember the last time I fed properly. I had no idea what drew me to this particular hole-in-the-wall, but perhaps the reek of misery dripping down the walls called to me. 

The world had grown dark as I rested, but the vile events of late gave me the strength I needed to rouse myself from my slumber and take a tighter control over my lighter half.

I reached my hand up, careful to raise my shirt to show some skin to the bartender. The slicked up, washed out pallor of his skin told a story of hard drinking, hard years, and hoards of women. Pity he wouldn’t have enough to satisfy me, but I couldn’t resist fucking with him. A girl’s got to have a little fun. His eyes slithered up and down my body, and the heat from his stare pebbled my nipples. His gazed locked in on my flesh poking through my flimsy shirt, and I knew he was mine for the taking. Well, if I was really that desperate.

“Well, hello there, pretty lady,” he said in a voice laced with desire. “What can I get for you?” Rank lust leeched from his pores, and I basked in the long lost feeling of power the deeper hunger gave me.

Be careful what you ask for, Mr. Bartender.

I smiled and bit my bottom lip. “To be honest, what I’d like to do is come around the other side of this bar, drop to my knees, and pull what I’m certain is an impressive hunk of manhood out of your pants. Then suck the life out of you.” I sighed. “But for now, I’ll have whatever’s on tap.”

His face blanched at the same time his pants tented, probably not used to women being so forward. Well, I wasn’t your typical woman.

Waiting was not one of my fortes, so I turned around, pressed my back against the dirty bar while he poured my beer, and perused the room. Sweaty men and skanky women milled around, drinking away their years and problems. Why did people feel the need to use alcohol to cope? I suppose to a down on his luck man, a few drinks made any woman, or man, look decent enough to fuck, and the alcohol lowered their inhibitions.

On my right, a man sat on a dingy stool with his head in his hands, staring down into his drink. His aroma reeked of a decline in pay and a bank foreclosure on his home. His wife left him for his best friend, and last week someone dented his car. On my left a dark man brooded up into space, eyes vacant. His scent held me hostage for a moment longer than usual, and I closed my eyes to decipher his auric message. The bite of frost and damp urine spun around me along with an impression. This man had terminal cancer and debated whether to kill himself now to save himself agony or try the treatments to make his family happy.

In the farthest corner of the small dumpy room, a man sat hunched over a table, shuffling a mug between his large hands. I couldn’t make out his features or anything else about him from this distance, and his aura felt like glass, which was strange. Perhaps I’d lain dormant too long, and my empathic skills were rusty. Anyway, if he was in this place, he must have been as desperate as everyone else.

Ah, delicious demons. Which of them should I choose to play with?

Suddenly, the small hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and the tickling sensation of tiny ants crawling up my arms warned me of danger. My head swiveled left and right, but the source of my alarm eluded me. I swallowed a deep breath. I’d been locked away by my goody two shoes other half for who knows how long, but I still remembered the sensation of being watched or stalked. I should know because stalking unwitting prey coursed through my blood, a gift from my father’s heritage. The subtle shift of unseen psychic vibrations in the air reminded me of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but the pulsation spoke to the darkness inside me the way a long lost lover haunts your memories.

Behind me, the clink of a glass meeting the scarred wood counter jolted me to turn around. I handed my money to the bartender, sliding my fingers over his wrist as he leered at me before he turned and walked to the other end of the bar. I raised the glass to my lips, tongued the rim, and saluted him, enjoying the foam. I basked in the way he drank me in like a man in a desert, and I was the oasis.

I sidled closer to Mr. Money Trouble and whispered low into his ear, “I can make your pain go away. I will fulfill your every fantasy.”

He blinked and met my eyes. I pressed my leg against his, my rough carnality wrapping around his aura, drawing him closer to me, and twining my essence with his.

“I won’t even charge you. I just want to fuck.”

I nipped his ear lobe with my teeth then trailed the tip of my tongue down the side of his neck. He tasted like a salty walnut, and I shuddered. Not my favorite nut, but I reached down and ran my palm over his cock. His manhood sprang to life under my touch, and he hissed in pleasure. The sweet scent of his instant arousal sent a jolt of need from his cock through my hand to my twitching sex.

A sudden vicious buzz forced my head up and around to meet the deep brown eyes of a large man behind me. I straightened, taking a small step away from the man now desperate for me.

Fuck.

I hadn’t even heard the big guy approach. He must walk on air, or I was so distracted I lost a handle on my surroundings, either way—not a good sign.

Stay calm. Nobody knows who you are, or what you are. You’re fine.

The dark eyed stranger leaned into me, bracketing his arms around me, and fixed them to the counter. Part of me was terrified, and part of me was completely aroused by the danger this man exuded. I righted my head and stared straight ahead into the cracked mirror above the whiskey shelf, keeping him in my line of vision, but also watching the rest of the room.

His velvet voice near my ear said, “You don’t want them. You don’t really crave what they offer. “

I watched, fascinated as the man behind me leaned closer, and his tongue snaked out, lapping my lobe for a mere second. His teeth scrapped down my neck and then he retreated, stepping back away from me. His touch sent tendrils of heat coursing through my veins. I caught a whiff of his scent, and a wave of nostalgia washed over me. He was the source of the danger.

The sudden loss of his heat pissed me off, and if I’d had claws, they’d have been out and ready to rumble. Some older empaths manifest animal traits. Claws, longer teeth, horns. I’d heard of some who can shift forms they are so old. Luckily I’d never met any—I was too busy running away and hiding from life.

He backed away far enough for me to turn around and face him. He stood easily over six feet, and I had to look up into his eyes, which were half hidden by the shitty bar lighting.

“Oh, and you do…really? You think you know what I want?”

A shiver coursed through me at how black his eyes appeared and how they bore into me, almost as if he was reading my life story.
Was it a trick of the light or something more sinister?
My own pupils reacted to his nearness and the dominant way he invaded my space. The sensation overwhelmed me, and my vision sharpened.

“Where the hell did you come from and how long have you been watching me?” I asked before taking another sip of my beer and licking my lips.

His eyes tracked the movement, and I had a moment of intense lust surge through the core of my veins. Lust is easily recognizable as the ache flows fast through your blood and makes you clench your muscles in anticipation of endorphin release.

I pushed off the bar and moved closer to his body, trying to get a read on him, on his emotions, his desires, or rage. His aura made me ache.

He reached out and tucked a hair behind my ear then caressed my cheek in his meaty palm before ducking down and regaining the upper hand. “Won’t work on me, sweetheart.”

Oh, fuck. Play dumb. He has no clue. He probably just thinks I’m a hussy trying to get into his pants, some kind of human street whore.

I played my role and grasped his hand making a show of checking for a ring. “You married, then?” I asked with a hint of flirty seduction, just enough to throw him off and make him wonder.

He pulled his hand from mine and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nope.”

“Not into redheads?”

“Love ‘em, as a matter of fact.”

I smiled and gave him the full wattage. “Are you going to answer my other questions?”

He laughed a truly wicked laugh, and his eyes shone with mischief. “I was sitting in the back of the room, and I’ve had my eyes on you from the moment you walked through the door.”

I turned towards the back, and the man whom I couldn’t read was gone. Shit, this wasn’t good. Now confusion settled in. “Who are you?”

“I got tired of waiting on you to take notice of me, so I decided to make myself known and stop you before you hurt someone. If you hadn’t been so intent on these hapless souls, you would have seen through my magic right way. I sense enormous power in you and something else I haven’t encountered in a very long time—a kindred spirit. You are much more than meets the eye.”

I should have seethed with rage he read me so easily when I couldn’t tell anything about him. I should have grabbed a beer bottle and cracked the broken glass over his head or maybe kneed him in the nuts, but I did none of those things. For reasons that totally mystified me, this stranger soothed the savage in me.

“You are one strange man,” I finally stammered.

He reached out and ran a fingertip down the side of my neck. “Want to dance?”

A voice exploded into my mind as the lighter half of me barked out,
“No! Don’t Delia. Leave him alone. Please. Don’t hurt anyone again.”

I stomped my foot and screamed in my head, “
It was one time! One time and it was a fucking accident!”

I closed my eyes and sought the place in our head that housed the box. I opened the box, reached in, pulled out the ball gag, and fastened the rubber piece over her mouth. Then I pushed her down, locked her into the floor chains, slammed and bolted the door, and opened my eyes.
“How do you like being locked up?”

“I’d love to,” I said with a huge smile.

He seemed riveted by me, and I swear he read my thoughts. I shivered under his gaze as pleasure spikes pricked my skin. Finally, he took my hand in his much larger one and turned around, walking towards the rear of the bar. Electricity raced between our laced fingers, and the sting of pleasure was something I’d never experienced before. The resonance danced up my skin and settled down, strumming softly over the fine hairs of my body and caused my internal energy to hum.

He let me go for a moment as he walked towards the old jukebox, and then a slow number came on. He moved with a natural charisma, an innate rhythmic movement that made him appear as if he was listening to the beat of some music only he could hear. The leashed power and grace he exuded snared me faster than a sale on Jimmy Choo’s.

He wasn’t handsome, not by Hollywood standards, but there was something just so freaking interesting about him. He had a smooth, swarthy complexion, and I couldn’t peg his heritage if my life depended on it. His deep and piercing eyes went from chocolate brown to pitch black in a heartbeat. He wore his unruly black hair pulled back into a ponytail that reached the nape of his neck. I don’t know what anyone else thought when they looked at him, but he made my girlie parts tingle.

My brain fogged and my limbs became pliant as he pulled me close to his body.
Putty
? Yes. Putty was the word. I melted like heated putty. What was wrong with me?