snippet of new work

Thanks for the congrats here's some new work from me

its unedited so forgive typos and spaces like this()
it means I am not sure what I will do with it.

Rachel Cade’s

One of A Kind












































Chapter One:
Flowers and Sunlight

Paris, France


Autumn was far more majestic than anything she’d ever seen in a movie. Three hundred and sixty degrees of perfection. A gray shifting sky loomed above the bare trees, illuminated by recently lit street lights. A few sparse couples walked by, their steps slow and languid. They appeared as eager to abandon their surroundings as she did.
Vanessa Walker, alone, her first time in a foreign country must have appeared the fool, staring up at the sky wearing a gentle smile. breathing in the air of an ancient, hauntingly beautiful city, holding flowers she’d purchased for herself, an hour earlier.
Her whole life she’d wanted to come here, so many times she’d never thought she’d make it, that her dreams would be relegated to the pages of books and the scenes of a film. But there was nothing like your own experience. The wind caressing your hair, the light sound of traffic and music, the smells that wafted from the doors of numerous cafes.
It was all just right. A moment she’d worked so long for, one that was just her own.

Her cell rang.
Closing her eyes she sighed, so much for that.

Without looking she answered it. “Yes, dad.”
“V ... I need you to get back to the hotel.”
“Sure.” She quipped against gritted teeth.
“Responsibility beckons.”

In fifteen minutes, she was sliding her key card into the door of (). A glass shattering startled her, she quickened her pace down the short hall of the suite to the living room, just as she turned the corner, shouts of two people stung her ears.
Vanessa’s mouth dropped as she saw a giant of a man, in head to toe black, holding a sword against her father’s chest.
They didn’t acknowledge her, and the man was speaking in a foreign language. She barely heard him as she began to scream.
Grasping a vase, she threw it at him with all her might, praying it would give her father enough time to escape.
In a swift movement, his sword moved in a semi circle, slicing the vase horizontally, cutting the numerous flower stems as water spilled like a liquid star across the room. The crash of the glass was ear splitting.
Her father was yelling at her to run, but his cries were drowned out by her heart beat. Time froze like the ice blue glare that immobilized her.
Over a space of time unmeasured, something changed in his eyes as he stared at her. The fierceness of his features dissipated, at the same time she wondered if she would pass out from lack of air. It was then she began to sway, and like the long cape that shifted behind him, her world went black.
“God, I’m sorry.” He kept saying it, over and over again. The shifting pitch of his voice, the rapidness in which he spoke, followed by long pauses, caused her heart to quicken on awakening.
“What’s going on?” She croaked out, shifting on what she guessed was a bed. Her head hurt a hell of a lot. When she reached for her forehead, it was cut off by a cold, clammy head. Her eyes flew open, and she realized it was day light.
“You hit your head.”
“How did I do that?”
Anthony Walker’s expression was pained as he stared at his daughter. “I’m not sure. I went downstairs for some magazines after I called you, and found you up here near the table. A doctor came to see you, he said you were going to be okay.”
She grimaced, feeling confused and a bit embarrassed. “But that’s not me though. I’m not the type of person to just - pass out for no reason.”
Her father offered her no response. He just rubbed her arm, the intensity of his glare made her uneasy. Then, after a time, he said he had to leave for a meeting, but not before making her promise she wouldn’t leave the hotel.

1031 A.D.
“It didn’t go very well.”
“What happened?”
Anastas Calabria leaned back in the great chair. He crossed long, leather clad legs as his brows knitted over his eyes. “I came for her, and he refused me. I didn’t take it well.”
“At least five hundred souls now wail under brimstone for the times you haven’t taken it well.”
Anastas let his Spanish gold coin flip skillfully between his knuckles. A cheap parlor trick he learned at four that somehow continued to amuse him.
“What did you do?”
At his old friend’s accusatory tone, the coin moved faster between his knuckles, oblivious to gravity, restlessly shifting like his thoughts. “I decapitated a vase.”
“And the girl?”
“Still in Paris.”
“Why?”
“Her father, requested another day with her.”
His friend’s voice became shrewd, curious. “And you obliged? Dare I susp-”
“How many centuries have I had to endure your cynicism, Rorick?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Anastas squinted at his fiend ignorance. Without humor Rorick asked. “Do you suspect the father will do something underhanded?”
To this Anastas laughed out loud. His teeth glinted against the haunted daylight outside. His smile was as treacherous as the wolves that often bayed at his side. The chuckle that followed was quite boyish. “And what will he do? Hide her from me?”

Vanessa stared at the panoramic view of the majestic city, the Eiffel Tower off to her left in the distance. Today, there was finally some sun after days of clouds and rain. Why should she stay in the hotel? They were only going to be in Paris for a few more days while he attended meetings. Who knew when she would get the opportunity to visit again?
Downstairs, she was about to head out of the door when she noticed the only figure that would be familiar to her in Paris, her father. He tending bar, his favorite pass time, in what looked like an intimate conversation with some random woman. Is that why he wanted her to stay in her room? His constant conclusion that she was still six years old irritated her to know end. She was twenty three years old, old enough to have gone through the pain of being abandoned by her father, and a few others to boot. She stormed out of the hotel gritting her teeth against her thoughts. She was so over it.

After running down a cab, she gave many thanks that he spoke English, so she wouldn’t have to force him to endure her sketchy seventh grade French. She asked him to to her to the Parc Floral.

Once again, the pictures did it zero justice. She shared more than a few bonjour’s with fellow tourists, but she was far more enraptured with the fact that this modern day Garden of Eden was still on Earth for people to enjoy than to get caught up in any friendly conversation. As usual, she wondered off from the crowd to be alone. She found herself on a winding isolated pathway that was lined with red, pink and purple flowers, and dense trees that blocked out most of the sunlight.
A slight grin hit her face, for a moment, with her knee length preppy dress and white Mary Jane slippers she felt like Alice in Wonderland. All that was missing was a bow in her hair. In her haste she realized it might have been a good idea if she’d completed her Sandra Dee ensemble by wearing a sweater, gently she rubbed her arms as a wind chilled by fall crept up behind her.
When she emerged from the trees an audible gasp hit her.
A pond stretched out in front of her, flanked with (), ducks rested in the embankment while a blue sky stretched farther than her imagination in front of her.
Pursing her lips, Vanessa felt her chest constrict at the beauty surrounding her. For some reason, she felt almost unworthy to be there.
Swallowing, she let the emotion subside. As much as she tried to be strong and optimistic about her life, negativity always found someway to creep up her spine, holding her immobile. She was constantly secretly waiting for the other shoe to drop.
With a deep inhale, she willed it away, just for once she wanted to live in the moment, without her heart giving way to the pain of her past, or her dread of the future.
Crying out, she tripped forward, her vision became a blur of clouds and sky before she fell back with a thump. “Ohhh.” She groaned.
“Are you alright?” She realized she was laying on top of a prepared picnic. About to spew twenty apologies she tries to gain her footing, causing a teetering champagne flute to dip forward, splashing against the underside of her thigh. Gasping at the sudden coldness, her face grew hotter.
“I’m so sorry.” She babbled, maneuvering into some kind of crap walk so his whole the whole lunch would be spared from her backside. She made it safely to the grass before scrambling to her feet.
“Gosh, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s quite all right. Are you okay?”
No.
The reaction called out from her soul. The flowers that covered her dress should have just wilted and died then. The action would have mimicked the emotion that drained from her face. Quickly she found herself averting her eyes from the jarring, deep blue irises that thoughtfully assessed her. She blue out a breath, in a split second, the entire visage of his face was tattooed in her memory. A full plush mouth was outlined by a graceful, strong jawline. His high cheekbones were flushed slightly pink by the wind and framed eyes she was afraid to look into.
He gave her the impression of a Roman Emperor, especially with his ink black hair cascading passed his shoulder in perfect waves. Suddenly the impeccable surroundings began to pale in comparison.
In the moments that followed it suddenly dawned on her that she was staring at the man’s ruined picnic setup. Still not looking at him, she apologized again.
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I was waiting for someone, but I’m afraid she won’t be coming.”
Vanessa’s facial reaction made him chuckle.
Still sitting, he raised his hand. “I’m Anastas Calabria.”
Smiling gently, she took it. “Vanessa Walker, klutz at Large.”
He gave a mocking frown. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I wasn’t paying much attention either.”
“Would you like to sit down?” He released her hand, and began smoothing the rumbled white table cloth, that, thanks to her was now stained with champagne.
“Do you think she’ll show?"
A gust of wind reminded her about the champagne on her thighs. The friction of the air against it made her shutter.
“I’ve been waiting for her for a while...”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you like apologizing?”
Her eyes widened. “No. I mean - I will if I need to. I was just saying, I feel bad that she stood you up.”
How does that even happen, she wondered.
“Please sit down. I wouldn’t mind the company. I’ve been feeling like quite the jackass sitting here by myself anyway, trust me.”

Smoothing her dress she reluctantly sat. She seemed to have a hard time figuring out what she wanted to do with her hands. All that was missing from her dowdy dress was a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Her features were fairly gentle, the straight dark brown hair that stopped a little passed her ears was windblown, probably more out of place than she realized. From what he could make out she was around five seven, her figure slight, and almost abnormally delicate bone structure. His index finger and thumb could probably wrap around her wrist twice.
How someone so tiny could throw a vase at him, was quite perplexing.
Fully aware that she was stealing glances at him, he was curious to know what she thought of him, even as he continued to size her up. Her skin was a rich brown and rather flawless. The only markings on her face was a smatter of tiny moles along her left eye. They were barely noticeable. But since he was inspecting her like she was livestock, he did notice.
In a sea of women, would he have recognized her? Been drawn to her as he should, a women he’d waited for ... for centuries?
The answer was no.
He gnashed his teeth.
“What if your date does up?” She asked. Just then he saw it, a shrewdness in the depths of her eyes. Of course it was just a flash, then it was gone, hidden by lengthy day lashes.
“Well we wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?”
She laughed shortly, resisting the urge to cover her mouth. He was glad, she had a nice mouth, her smile revealed deep hidden dimples in each cheek.
“What brings you to Paris?”
“I’m traveling with my dad.”
“Ah, a father daughter trip.” He moved to his basket, pulling out two clean champagne bottles. “That sounds nice, from America?”
She nodded. “Where are you from? I know you have an accent I just can’t-”
“Cyprus.”
“Oh.” She breathed in a approval, he wanted to laugh at her expression, but refrained.
“Have you ever been there?”
Shaking her head, the shyness crept in again. “I’ve seen pictures.”
Still eyeing her he filled both flutes without spilling a drop. “That’s not quite the same thing.”
“I realize.” She agreed nodding. “I don’t drink.”
“Everyone drinks in Paris.”
“I’m sure everyone drinks in Cyprus too, or where ever you are.” She teased, playing with the buckle on her white shoe. That was a neat trick by the way.”
“What?”
“Not spilling any of the champagne, they didn’t even overflow. How many times have you done that to get so good?”
He licked his lips. “I uh -” He grinned. “It sounds like you are trying to politely say, I may be a gigalo?”
She laughed, holding up her hands. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be, I think I would have to have several more buttons undone and twice as many gold chains to qualify for that.” Her laugh turned into a snort, which she promptly cut off with her hand.
He offered her the glass, but she still held up her hand in refusal. “Really I don’t. Besides, if I really wanted to partake I could just lick some off my thigh-”
“Now that would be a neat trick.” He sipped on one glass. “I hate to waste good champagne. Do you think the ducks would like some?”
“Getting a duck drunk? I think you could go to jail for that.”
“Not in France.” He countered.
There was a silence that followed where there amused glance at each, flipped on a dime and turned into something else.
“I was going to explore the rest of the park.” She said hastily standing.
Anastas sighed. “Well, that means I have to pack up all this stuff if I plan to join you. And then I have to - walk -”
“What’s wrong with walking?” Her damp legs caused her dress to stick, and she had to pull it away from her skin. She was more concerned with the task than looking at him, so from his vantage point, still sitting, he caught glimpse of a marvelously shaped thigh muscle.
“Nothing. But if I am playing the Euro-trash lush today, I’m supposed to hate it.”
He quickly packed, refusing her assistance both times she offered.
“There all done.” Squatting he was tempted to bow like a magician while she clapped for him.
“Well done too.”
He stood to his full height, and she stumbled back. There was awe and trepidation mixed in her expression where just a moment before there had been amusement. Pushing a wayward lock of hair behind his ear he briefly wondered if she hated what he was wearing. He had no love for modern fashion and almost had to be drugged to get into the white button down shirt and black slacks he was wearing. And the shoes? He had no idea who this Gucci man was but he needed to be bludgeoned.
He was about a foot taller than she was, it must have caught her by surprise.
“Uh - Sorry.”
Vanessa appeared to come to her senses. “What?” A nervous chuckle bubbled from her. “It’s okay. I just, you’re really tall - and b - really tall.”
He tilted his head. There was a softness to her eyes,framed in those thick lashes. “You’re embarrassing me.” He joshed.
Anastas wanted to move closer to her, but her heartbeat, it was too fast. He could almost feel her pulling away from him.

“Anastas? Anastas?” He could have cringed. His jaw snapped and he turned to see the sinewy form of Loena, sauntering up to him in all black. “Darling I’m so sorry I’m late!”
His head jerked back to Vanessa, who was already retreating. Her lips parted to say something, and she thought against it, turned and practically ran off.
Chapter Two:
“I’ll take what’s mine.”


“You bitch.” He muttered.
“Why?” Loena asked. “Because I ran her off? Was that really her?”
“Leave. You’ve done enough damage.”
“Were you - were you courting her?” The word might as well have been a disease to her.
“Since when is what I do any of your concern?” He could feel the heat behind his eyes, steam might has well have risen from his shoulders. Not only was had she made him look like a cad, but she’d also been eavesdropping, which he should have known. How could he have dropped his guard?
By the time he turned to her, she was gone.

“Where were you?”
Vanessa sighed at her father’s exasperated tone.
“I just went out.”
“After you promised me you would stay in your room?”
“What am I five?” She pushed passed him. Her heart was still pumping in her chest from running out of the cab to the elevator. Then speed walking toward the suite like the devil was on her heels.
How could she have humiliated herself like that?
“I was worried about you, you fell earlier, I just - didn’t want anything to happen to you.”
The sincerity in his voice manifested guilt she tried to ignore. “I just went to a Park. I know we’ll be leaving soon. I just wanted to see some of the sights.”

Cyprus

Anastas yanked the shirt off his back, ignoring the buttons as they skid across the floor in a thousand directions. The pants came next, tossed in any direction behind him, completely forgotten.
“I take it things didn’t go well? Were you forced to amputate a couch this time?”
“Shut up.” He gritted. He fell back against his bed. The cool breeze rushed in from the ocean, he shut his eyes against the feeling of it against his skin.
A water filled scrying bowl, gently shook with the laughter of Rowan, his mentor, in midevial England, one hundred centuries earlier.
After embarrassment faded, Anastas slowly filled him in on what had passed between them, which abruptly ended with the very unwanted appearance of Loena. If Vanessa had given him a chance, he would have explained that the haughty brunette was in fact his cousin. Who was he kidding, she probably would have run faster.
“I just don’t see how I am going to do this.” He admitted.
“This whole experience will go a lot easier for both of you if she actually likes you before you tell her. If she actually knows you at all. No modern woman wants to be tossed over some strange man’s shoulder and get whisked off into another time.”
Anastas cut his eyes at the bowl. “You’d be surprised, have you read some of the romance novels they write?”
“Romance novel?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’ve been reading them and watching, these romantic comedies, which art quite repeatetive by the way, and in them, men often do just that. And the novels are written by women for women, so how do you plan to refute that?” He added dryly.
Rowan uncharacteristically sucked his teeth. “Fantasy and reality are seldom the same thing. Have I taught you nothing?”
Anastas raised himself up on his elbows. “Besides the fact that she probably assumes I’m some eurotrash playboy, she’s also leaving soon. I can’t continuously show up where she is, she will become suspicious.”
“She should have been suspicious after you showed up out of thin air in the middle of a public park, or when you almost killed her father with that barbaric piece of steel you insist on carrying. You’re not playing fair, Anastas. You are holding all the cards and she has none.”
He thought on it for a moment. As usual, the bastard was right. Nose flaring he countered with, “Well, I’m the older one.”
“Let’s just pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Can’t I just take her, and be done with it?”
“Fine, you will do as you wish. But I’m warning you, you’ll be taking the easy way out.”
“I could tell her that we belong together, that she’s my sacred mate or something.”
Rowan sighed. “Do you feel like she’s your - sacred mate?”
He stared out beyond the stained glass doors, past his property to the mediteranean horizon, the irredescent blue sky flanked by the aqua blue ocean. Inhaling deeply he answered.
“No.”

Her father wanted to talk to her. Of course he did. Just like the trip was supposed to be about them spending time together. Instead, it was her sight seeing by herself, while he went to meeting and conoodled with strange women. She shouldn’t have felt slighted by it, yet she did. It would have been wonderful if she had more control over her emotions. If she could see a situation wasn’t right for her, that someone’s affections would never be forthcoming; if she could just turn off her feelings and move on. It was all she wanted. Yet, she could never do it.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, subconciously she’d decided her exterior would match her mood, and had chosen to where heavy eyeliner, giving her eyes a cattier appeal. Red lipstick had been applied, but she wiped it off, deciding it was too bright. Her dark relaxed hair was just barely curled, brushed back haphazardly with her fingers.
Leather jacket, worn jeans and a white t shirt completed her ensemble. It was a step up over the flower dress from the previous day. “Right.”

There wasn’t anything wrong with feeling different from day to day. after all wasn’t it a woman’s perogative to change her mind? Especially if one wanted to keep from getting bored. Unlike in America though, wandering the streets of Paris with it’s intricate Gothic architectecture and old world charm, she just didn’t feel lonely.
She’d turned her cell on silent, not caring if her father alerted the U.S. embassy and had set about going where her feet could take her. By noon she found herself exhilerated, as she sat under the shaded over hang of the Le Balto cafe on Rue de Buci in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. Most of the customers appeared to be businesssman, and they were as content to sit behind their wall of today’s paper as she was to delight in the many options of their menu.
Mercifully, the menu was in English and French, so her shoddy use of the language would have to wait for another moment to come into play.
While she waited for her waitress, her eyes drifted down the winding streets that seperated into more streets, she could probably live two lifetimes in Paris and never see everything there was to see.
A waitress passed her, with a delectable plate filled with fruit and crepes. Her mouth instantly salivated at the serving. Stopping at the table directly across from her, the man lowered his paper.
Haunted blue gaze evaperated her hunger. Jaw unhinged, she came to the full realization that it was Anastas, the two date picnic jerk from the day before.
He appeared surprised to see her, and oblivious to the flirting waitress who took a few moments to follow his gaze. When she did, her mouth flattened, and she quickly retreated back inside the cafe.
His waving ink black hair was pulled back in a French braid, he was wearing a gray fitted t shirt over a blue blazer that sat on wide heavy shoulders. He hadn’t shaved that morning, she noticed the faint darkening of his jawline because she was paying way too much attention to his face.
God his eyes were amazing, the muted color of his jacket paled ten times in comparison. The thick arched eyebrows that rested above them were natural, but nonetheless gave him the air of a villain.
But he wasn’t a villain, he was a nice guy, from what she could acertain from the ten minutes they’d met before. And almost rolled her eyes at the thought.
“I see we meet again.” He said finally, to her relief that she wouldn’t be the one to break the silence.
“In a city this big, it must be fate.” What was she saying?
To the detriment of her nerves he stood with his plate, and moved to join her. He was wearing white jeans, apparently low rise, and the silver buckle of his belt rested right below a t shirt that fit like a second skin.
Vanessa’s nervous giggle, and awkward smile didn’t do much to shield the fact that she thought she would leap out of her own skin at the thought of sharing the tiny table with him.
“I need to apologize to you about yesterday.” He said quietly.
She didn’t hide her surprise. “As I recall, I’m the one that ruined your setup-”
“I mean about the interruption.”
“You mean you’re date.” She warned.
Anastas’ tongue his the roof of his mouth and she cut him off as he tried to continue. “You don’t have to apologize. We don’t even know each other.”
Not even a complimentary water, damn, she cursed as her eyes clawed the surface of the table. She pushed her hands under the table.
“It made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for that.” Anastas was leaning forward, his eyes like arctic glaciers on her, the world fell silent and all she knew was the intensity of his gaze.
“Don’t mention it.” She tried to laugh it off. “For the record American girls are suspicious of intense sincerity.”
Anastas nodded as if enthralled by a new revelation. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. Would you like some?”
“What?” Caught off guard by his quick shift in topic, her heartbeat steadied as she realized he was referring to his brunch.
“I see you haven’t ordered yet.”
“I doubt the waitress is coming back.”
“Why not, it’s her job.”
“I think you wounded her heart by not offering her enough attention.”
Anastas appeared authentically unawares. Figured, it was always the pretty ones. Well, the phrase pretty, didn’t quite do him justice. Vanessa clenched her jaw to any other embarrassing adjectives on her mind that might describe him. She’d already practically catalogued his body parts in her head.
“There’s always next time.” She offered quietly.
He pushed the plate toward her. “I’m sure she’ll get over me.” He countered dryly.
A fork materialized in his hand, he offered it to her across the table. The smell of pastry and fresh fruit was cramping her gut, so reluctantly she took it, careful not to touch him.
While she ate his brunch and agreed at the appropriate times while he spoke, she couldn’t help but think how awkward it was, how she felt about him. She couldn’t help but think that after the food was gone, they would say their polite goodbyes and he would leave. How much more boring could that possibly be?
“Have you been to Notre Dame?”
“No.”
“Would you like to go with me?”