The Mythicals: Saving Her Destiny - The Mythicals: Saving Her Destiny Part 15
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The Mythicals: Saving Her Destiny Part 15

All the more reason she didn't want Duncan here-she didn't want him to tie up his fate with hers. He deserved more than that.

Unaware of her inner turmoil, he waved his wand and a platter of cheeses, meats, and fresh fruit appeared. "I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

"No. Why are you still here?" Cara asked.

He held a piece of cheese. "Because I'm not leaving you."

Chapter Twelve.

Cara stared at Duncan, her brow furrowed as he swallowed the piece of cheese.

"Why would you stay?" Her words echoed in his head, a complete thought, yet he could feel so much more-confusion, anger, frustration. So many of her emotions were laced with the words, he took a breath before answering.

"I have to see this through," he replied. And how else could he articulate it? Just being here, next to her, in the desert of all places.

Alone with her. Truly alone with her. Not where someone would stumble upon them, not at a cafe where they were chatting over coffee, or even at her parent's house where her mother or father might come in.

No phone to answer, no nosy neighbors, nothing.

Just the two of them.

For the first time in eternity.

It hit him hard how beautiful she had become, how much she'd matured both physically and mentally. The wetsuit she wore hid nothing from his gaze, and he took in the curves of her sides, of her hips, as the curves moved in one fluid motion, those lines that made the gods stand up and take notice. She truly was a work of art.

He'd realized when he first met her that she'd be attractive-her eyes and face shape already alluded to it, but it wasn't until now that he could truly see how she'd matured into a great beauty, since he'd first met her.

Such a change.

Such growth.

He smirked at how she'd grown up, the differences between her now and the young lady he'd met so long ago.

"Why are you laughing? You heard him, I barely have an hour left," Cara said. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she brushed them away.

Seeing her tears sent a shockwave of ache through him. This was the last time he'd ever be around her.

The last time he'd ever get to see her.

"Do you find this satisfying? Watching me die?" She pulled her knees to her chest again, the wet suit groaning as she moved, and she laid her head on her knees, looking away from him.

He felt like a jerk-who knew what she thought he'd been smirking over. "I'm sorry. I was just remembering."

She turned and looked at him, her eyes glossy from tears unshed. "Remembering what?"

"When I first met you."

"Glad I can still amuse you in my final moments." She crossed her arms and looked away. "You don't have to stay if you're just going to laugh at me."

"And I said I'm not leaving. I won't leave you alone to die." He scooted into her and put his hand on her shoulder.

She twisted back toward him again. "I don't know if that's the nicest thing I've ever heard, or the most demented."

"Here," he said and waved his wand again. This time, he materialized a cup of Fairy Tea and handed it to her.

She sniffed it, and a bit of a grin spread over her face. "You sure you want to give me this?"

"You remember the last time, then?" He would never forget saving her that day.

Cara hesitantly took the cup. "I remember not being able to sleep for almost a day, I was so wired." Yet as she thought that, something else made her cheeks turn several shades of pink.

A thought he couldn't hear.

Intriguing... He'd always been able to hear most anyone's thoughts whenever it suited him. To see that Cara's learned to shield things from him-that was very impressive.

Her warm cheeks, along with the bit of her dimple from whatever that secret thought was kicked him hard in the gut. And lower places.

Stars, she was beautiful. Her black hair was almost dry and it fluttered around her face as the desert air flickered through the two open walls of the cabana.

He tried to keep his own wandering thoughts under control and pressed the cup into her hands.

"It might make you feel better."

Cara took a sip. He watched her throat move as she swallowed-which made him feel like a heel, because he wanted to taste that bare skin.

Again.

He'd tasted her once-a long time ago. It had been impulsive at the time-fun that turned intimate. He hadn't meant to let his guard down around her like that-to show her how he felt, but when the chance came, he'd taken it.

In the moment, he'd felt a connection, a need for her, something he'd not felt for anyone in a very long time.

Yet after, she shifted-her attitude was almost blase about the kiss.

It must not have affected her as much as it had him, because kissing her had turned him into a confused mess.

She hadn't been a charge of his, or in any way under his protection, so there truly was no reason why he couldn't be attracted to her, yet he felt so strange about it. She'd only been twenty at the time-very young compared to his almost three-hundred years.

The emotions had been so strong he hadn't known what to do. So he'd avoided Cara for nearly a year. When they finally saw each other again, whatever it was that had left him so flummoxed obviously had not affected her, because she'd greeted him with her usual enthusiasm.

Like nothing had happened.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that way with him. Even now, knowing what was likely going to happen to her in the next hour, the urges came back-his wanting as strong as ever.

Not to mention his desire not to leave her. He would not let her die by herself.

"Do you remember that day?" Cara asked.

"Which day?" he asked, jarred from his warring thoughts.

"That day, when you read my palm?"

He nodded. "Yes." The same day they'd kissed, he'd read her palm, in hopes to find something to cheer her up, make her more excited about the prospect of the future so she wouldn't dwell on her ex-boyfriend and his infidelity.

"It said it would be eight years until I was with the person I'm supposed to be with."

"Yes," he whispered again and mentally started counting backwards to when that was. He had a sneaking suspicion the anniversary wasn't that long ago.

"That was eight years ago, last week." Cara confirmed his mental math.

Duncan's stomach dropped. Had someone new come into her life? Was there a boyfriend he knew nothing about? Someone who would miss her when she was gone?

Duncan would. Their friendship was so special to him-he had nothing to compare it to. No one he'd dated in the last fifty years had as much of a connection to him as Cara. When he woke, he wanted to talk to her over his morning cup of tea. Every day.

More than that, he wanted his own Happily Ever After. Like his brother Ewan and his sister-in-law Christy had.

Yet the one person he felt closer to than anyone in the Realm was this banshee who was about to explode. And here she was, having found someone that he'd predicted would come to her. Her own Happily Ever After.

He should be happy for her. He knew that. Nonetheless, a pain built in his chest that felt like it would rip him apart. One that grew worse when he thought about her with someone else than losing her all together.

He coughed down the pain. "Is there... Do I need to, uh, contact someone for you?"

Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. "That isn't why I bring that up."

"So why?" If she didn't have a new boyfriend, why would she mention that palm reading?

"You said I would find my destiny in eight years. That I would be with the person I was supposed to spend my days with in eight years." She met his gaze, her eyes dark, her lashes lowered as she clenched the cup.

"I'm sorry I was wrong, Cara."

"I don't think you were." She nested the cup in a crook between two of the pillows and tilted her chin down. The wafting aroma of the tea wrapped around them-both sweet and tart at the same time, distinct and unique, like this moment between them.

It clicked in his head where she was going with her train of thoughts. Who she meant.

He put his hand on her chin and brought her head up so he could look in her eyes-eyes that sparkled so beautifully.

She meant him.

His gut roiled, because there was nothing more that he wanted than to be with her. Yet, she wasn't immortal like him. She was a banshee with a mostly mortal life span. He still had a good fifty or sixty years on his FID contract.

How could they- "Duncan?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"Will you do something for me?"

"Anything you want," Duncan replied as he pushed away his thoughts-obsessing about futures was a moot point. He wouldn't live past today anyway-if her scream erupted, it would take him right along with her.

And he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left her now. He'd lived a very long life, if he was going to die, so be it. At least he'd be with Cara.

Her hands trembled as she took another sip of the tea. He guessed she was only pretending to be calm. She sat the cup back in the little nest of pillows.

"Kiss me?"

He blinked. "What?" Had he heard that right? Had she just asked him to kiss her?

"Will. You. Kiss. Me?"

She had asked him what he thought she'd asked him.

She shook her head. "It's okay, forget I asked. I'm sorry. I just... It seemed so likely, that maybe...yeah. The whole about to die thing is making me think crazy stuff. Never mind. Just, forget it, okay? I thought maybe, since, well. Yeah. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry." She scooted away from him.

And it hit him. Hard.

Exactly what she meant. Exactly. And he felt like a bonehead for not realizing it immediately, bringing up the palm reading, the eight years, all of it.

Her.

And him.

He was her destiny.

"Yes," he whispered. "I would be honored to."

She faced him, her mouth open in a little aO', her eyes wide as she stared at him.

He stroked her fingers with his and leaned in closer to her. Their hands laced as he brushed her cheek with the back of his other palm, and then he cupped her face. Her skin was so soft, so smooth-it felt more wonderful than the finest silks.

He ran his thumb over her dimple.

"I always loved this dimple," he whispered.

She raised her eyebrow. "My dimple? That's kinda weird, fairy."

"I'm a weird guy."

She smiled. "But you're my weird guy."

"Yes," he whispered as his thumb slid over her jaw, then across her lips. "I am yours, Cara. I think I always have been."

She inhaled a breath.