Page 21 of Lana Pecherczyk
Perhaps he glimpsed her emotions teetering on the edge of collapse, but he finally abandoned his games.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Blake.”
“Blake, look at me.”
She didn’t want to. Instinct warned her that she’d never resurface once she locked eyes with him, but she needed to know. She looked up.
“Your world is gone,” he said. “It was turned into a wasteland after a nuclear winter. You’re one of the lucky few humans who survived.”
“Few? Like how many? A few thousand? A few—” Something in his expression strangled the words in her throat.
“I only know of nine other women from your time. Maybe ten.” His eyes softened. “Everyone you know is dead.”
She blinked. Stared. Then, she laughed so hard that her ribs ached. Tears blurred her vision. When she could breathe again, she wiped them away and said, “Good one, mate. For a moment there, I thought you said…” Her words withered as she caught his solemn expression. She glanced over at the cracked vase—the familiar, older,ancientvase.
Suddenly, her lungs refused to work.
“Where’s me phone?” she gasped out, hyperventilating, eyes wide. “I need to speak to Jeff. Me husband.”
“You have me.”
“I don’t want you!” she shouted.
His brows rose. A hardness formed in his eyes. “The feeling’s mutual, Sparkles.”
“I want to talk to me dad. Me brothers Mick and Johnno. Jimmy. I need to—” She lunged and palmed his chest, snarling, “Where’d you put me wedding ring? I want it back. I want?—”
He seized her wrists with one big hand and held them wide so that she twisted and fell against him.
“You’re not getting it back!” he shouted. “Forget about your fucking husband. He’s dead!”
Tears burned her eyes. “You’re an arsehole.”
“So they keep telling me.”
“A fucking cunt!”
“We’ve established that.”
“I hate you.”
“Mutual.”
“You don’t get to decide?—”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His eyes blazed with murderous anger as he pushed her off and seized her hand, forcing it open. That’s when she noticed the blue ambiance in the room wasn’t natural. It emanated from glowing marks down her arm, the same as his. How had she missed that? But before she could question it, he dropped a sprinkle of tiny cold objects into her palm and said, “It’s my job to decide what stays and what goes.”
“Why?”
The anger drained from his voice. “Because I’m a Guardian. Metal and plastic block the flow of mana—magic. It’s my job to ensure forbidden substances are destroyed so that life continues to flourish after the nuclear winter, and so your greedy human ancestors don’t ruin what’s left of this planet.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. His gaze darted down to the blue marks, then back up to her face. “Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me. I’m your Well-blessed mate. Whoopdie-fucking-doo.”
He rose, towering over her, and then strode out. The curtain swished behind him. When she glanced down at her palm,she found diamonds. Not just the ones from her engagement ring and wedding band, but every hidden gem she’d bedazzled onto her phone. He’d painstakingly plucked out each one and discarded the plastic.
Diamonds were all she had left of her world.
These little rocks held so much value back then, just as her phone had been her lifeline to people she thought were friends, family, and her entire identity.
