Heartless — Nathalie Gray

His fall from grace came in the year 117 A.D. Cursed for the last two thousand years, Gaius roams the earth, always one heartbeat ahead of his own personal hell, but always a step behind salvation. Until an irreverent, modern woman crashes through his defenses and teaches him to never give up. Unfortunately, hope always comes with a price.

To My Readers: I've always been interested by curses. Not the words (well...), but the power of a person's hate. I've always wondered, what if a curse took shape, followed its target everywhere it went. A tailor made hell. This is such a story. Gaius did a bad thing two millennia ago and is still living his punishment. When Anne-Marie stumbles into him, she can't resist trying to help this handsome stranger with the wounded eyes. But the curse isn't done with Gaius. Not by a long shot.

EXCERPT FROM HEARTLESS

When they said one's life flashed before one's eyes, they didn't know what they talked about. For Anne-Marie, all she saw was a muzzle flash that burned bright little suns in her vision. Tiny flecks of something sprayed her face as if someone had taken a pepper mill to her. Thunder made her ears buzz and heat buffeted her even through the hood when the shot went right over her shoulder. He'd missed?

Behind her, a long fizzling sound made the hairs stand on her arms. Anne-Marie turned just in time to see the thing that had chased her recoil from the roof, a broken marionette flopping madly, long, barbed appendages dancing like bacon in a pan. It'd followed her after she'd jumped? It'd been right there behind her. Had the man not fired at it…

A violent shiver rocked her. A gag reflex squeezed her throat. Please not here, not now.

His face a mask of rage, he grabbed her by the sleeve and yanked her down. Rain seeped into her pants when her knees knocked against the granular tar. Her heart beat hard enough to worry her. Saliva tasted sour.

“What the hell -- ”

“Shh,” he hissed.

Below, the monstrous thing continued to fizzle and hiss. Beneath the sounds, the clangs of metal and the uneven scrape against brick alerted Anne-Marie the thing had reach the ground. The hiss deepened, diminished. Then nothing.

He'd hurt it? How could this thing be hurt? What was going on?

As soon as the sound stopped, she pulled her sleeve from his grip, crab-walked to a safer distance. Keeping him in front where she could see him.

Standing, he slid the monstrous gun back into his coat. Anne-Marie jumped back a step when he came for her. He might have shot that thing back, but it didn't mean he could come invade her space. When she bounced on the balls of her feet, hands loose at her sides, he seemed impressed neither by her speed nor her fighting stance. She might not be a martial arts expert, but she sure as hell could knee a man where it hurt.

But the man lunged quicker than she'd ever seen anyone move. Despite her late but sound elbow block, he gripped her by the front of the jacket and hoisted her to his face. Only the tips of her boxing boots touched the ground.

“You could see it. How could you see it?” he demanded. A trace of accent lifted certain syllables from the rest. His voice sounded rusty from disuse.

Anne-Marie had never believed in any sort of mojo, karma or anything more esoteric than the power of a good Evil Eye. Well, before that thing had crushed her car and chased her up a building. Then been shot back by a guy who could hold her up by a hand.

But she couldn't deny the surge of emotions swelling inside her as soon as his hand touched her. The same she'd felt as she retrieved the canopic jar. Great sadness and melancholy then a rage that knew no bounds. In his eyes the color of green amber, she saw it all reflected. Weariness like an old pain. She only noticed then how hollow his cheeks were and how tired he looked. So tired. This man had been broken, either in his heart or in his spirit. Something bad had happened to him. Very bad.